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When Heaven Falls Silent: Zoë's meditation

This evening is Sancuary, Tyne and Wear's very own alt-worship service. Tonight's theme is 'When heaven falls silent', which those planning the service have had much fun discussing. Zoë is doing a quality meditation and she's said I can pop it online :-) so if you're sitting comfortably...

The wise man built his house upon the rock,
The wise man built his house upon the rock,
The wise man built his house upon the rock and the house on the rock stood still.

The foolish man built his house upon the sand,
The foolish man built his house upon the sand,
The foolish man built his house upon the sand and the house on the sand fell flat.

The rain came down and the floods came up,
The rain came down and the floods came up,
The rain came down and the floods came up and the house on the rock stood firm.

So you diligently, faithfully seek out your piece of firm rock. A plot far away from those faithless sand dwellers and you build your house on the rock, sweeping away any trespassing grains of sand. This house is strong and towering, a permanent, unfaltering landmark.

Through the windows, God-light pours in and there is growth. This is a fertile place. You grow and you are happy; content and comfortable. From time to time the rain comes, beating on your front door but you can hardly hear it, just a distant pattering reminding you of those who were too faithless to tell the sand from the rock.

As time passes you wonder if the rain is becoming more frequent, and whether the storms are persisting for longer? But surely this cannot be, rain is not the experience of a rock builder. But the rain persists, beating on the front door, filling the drains, running down the windows, seeping through the keyhole. When the rain has passed, you notice outside, the puddles are filled with sand and there is a patch of rising damp creeping through your kitchen wall.

Around your plot a gulley has formed, a gulley which is filled with sand. With more rain, it becomes deeper and wider, stealing away your plot, threatening your foundations. Inside, what began as a few tiny black spots has now grown into a thick black mould which covers your walls and hangs thick and stagnant in the air.

The rains come until your plot is half, a quarter, an eighth of it’s original size, surrounded by a trench of thick sand. One day your decaying house, with it’s crumbling foundations, collapses into the surrounding sand, swallowed forever. Now, as you stare out from your tiny rock island, you realise it has become impossible to tell the sand from the rock, the black from the white, everything you have ever known has become a murky grey.

You pin your eyes to the horizon desperately waiting for a passing soul who might explain how to recover what has been lost. When finally you see someone trudging your way, you go to ask your questions but at the last second decide it would be better to pretend you had always been a sand dweller than try to explain your displacement.

“MY GOD MY GOD WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME”

But my child, in this barren, desert wilderness you must remember those who have gone before you, those who have walked this lonely path, heavy with their questions and sad in their souls. You must remember that after death, there was life and that just as the sand has come from the rock so it can return again. You must take your questions and boldly ask them, unafraid of what others might think, and following the footsteps of Jesus, walk this sand dweller way.

November 08, 2006 in Emerging Church |

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