Rebuilt from the Rubble

A Reflection from Marlbork Castle

Today, my family and I wandered the winding courtyards and towering red-brick walls of Malbork Castle, nestled on the banks of the Nogat River in northern Poland. The Gothic grandeur of the fortress, originally built by the Teutonic Knights in the thirteenth century, is breathtaking. It’s hard to imagine, as you stand beneath its high arches and peer through its arrow slits, that only a few generations ago, much of it was nothing more than rubble.

During World War II, Malbork Castle was ravaged. It was first hit hard by aerial bombardments and then by fierce ground battles. After the war, what remained of this once-mighty fortress was barely more than broken brick, scorched timber, and shattered dreams. The destruction seemed total.

Photo: The picture I’ve posted shows the devastating damage of the war. But look closely. In the background, you’ll see the soaring towers and restored halls. That’s the Gospel in a snapshot. Ruin and redemption, side by side. It’s a picture of resurrection.

Meticulously, piece by piece, archaeologists, historians, and artisans began the labor of love: a restoration not of speculation, but of precision. They studied old sketches, paintings, and architectural records to determine what each corner, hall, and chapel once looked like. Where stone had crumbled, they laid it anew. Where history had been scarred, they dared to hope and to rebuild.

As I looked at a photograph showing the bombed-out shell of the castle juxtaposed with the towering glory behind me, I felt more than historical awe, I felt a sermon rising from the bricks.

Because this is precisely what God in Christ through the Holy Spirit does with us?

Some of you reading this may know exactly what it feels like to be reduced to rubble. Maybe you’re there now. Life has shattered you. Grief has gutted you. Sin has left you broken in ways you don’t even know how to name. The structures you once stood proudly within—your integrity, your marriage, your faith, your future—have collapsed. And you wonder if there’s any way back.

Malbork Castle stands today not as a ruin but as a witness that restoration is possible.

But here’s the key. Restoration doesn’t begin by staring at the rubble. It begins with a vision. The craftsmen who rebuilt Malbork didn’t sit and weep over what was lost; they fixed their eyes on what it was supposed to be. They studied the blueprints, the drawings, the history. They let the original design shape every stone they set.

Friend, you and I have a blueprint too, not etched in parchment, but embodied in a Person. Jesus Christ is the vision of what we were made to be: whole, holy, fully alive. He doesn’t just show us what to become; He makes us new. His Word gives shape to what’s been misshapen. His grace supplies the materials. And the Spirit of God does the work no human hand ever could.

But it all starts with surrenderr.

You can’t rebuild yourself out of your own ruins. That’s like handing bricks to a ghost. No, you must give the rubble to the Grand Architect. Yes, I’m talking every cracked dream, every haunted regret, every sinful fracture. You don’t need to have the plan. He already has it. He’s had it from the beginning.

Psalm 147:3 says, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

Isaiah 61 promises that He gives “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of despair.”

I don’t know what rubble you carry today. But I do know this: the same God who raised Christ from the dead is still in the business of rebuilding broken things. And unlike any earthly castle, you’re not just meant to be watched, you’re meant to be inhabited. God is making you His dwelling.

Malbork is a castle reborn. You can be too.

Restoration may be slow. It may be costly. It may not look like what you imagined. But if you trust Him with your ruins, He will shape you into something beautiful, something true, something whole.

He hasn’t given up on you. He never did. So lift your eyes from the debris and fix them on Christ. Let Him begin the work. Brick by brick. Day by day. Grace upon grace.

And one day, like Malbork against the Polish sky, you’ll stand not as a shadow of what once was, but as a witness to the Redeemer who rebuilds all things.

-Blake Hart