You’ve probably heard it, too: ‘If these walls could talk.’ In the case of centuries-old buildings, wouldn’t it make fascinating listening/reading if they could tell the stories of the people who inhabited their rooms? If they were residences, the families who lived in them. If they were castles, the royal courts and highly esteemed visitors entertained there? If they were military buildings used as headquarters during conflict, all the strategies developed in their war rooms. If they were poor workers’ dwellings, the struggles for survival and the celebrations at every minor blessing. If churches, the music, the prayers, the sermons. Each edifice, though solidly established in the ground, immobile, sturdy, noble, had the benefit of a front row seat on many ‘journeys,’ from the lowliest and humblest of tales to scandalous skullduggeries, from happy groupings of folk loving life and one another to the ugly dark machinations of power-hungry despots. I think they could fill entire libraries with their recountings with something of passionate interest to every listener/reader.
A friend would often say that the only constant was change, implying that even if there were no obvious signs of evolution, there were advances being made, that the story was ongoing, that despite all external evidence, much was afoot. I truly think that’s how our stories of new life are as well. We may have the impression that all is stagnant, but much is in progress unawares. It reminds me of a video presentation of marsh life where all appears completely still to the naked eye, nothing at all happening. However, at the micro (nano?) level it is an entire, industrious world hard at work, with a host of tiny creatures moving about, eating, building, hiding, swimming, climbing.
Whether we feel, spiritually, as stuck in place as a building, or as apparently inert as a marshy plain, it is important for us to remember that we’ve been recruited by the Master Designer, the Planner of all Planners. He is always at work in us, crafting, molding, correcting, reshaping, yes, glorifying. He must be, because He has chosen us to flesh out the Mission, to establish His Kingdom, to embody the life of His Son, Jesus, to invite others to join us on the journey to the Father’s heart. What are the tales these lives of ours, hidden in Christ in God, are spinning? Who is listening/reading these lives? Who is hearing Jesus’ invitation in the listening/reading? Who is still longing for an opportunity to listen/read? Maybe Jesus is sculpting us as his love story, with or without words, a signpost, a lighthouse, a candle in the dark. PD