What is it that we love about very old things? I like nothing more than stumbling upon an old well weathered piece of wood or a rusty hunk of iron. Last night I talked about God’s perspective of time and how time carries us along as it flows. Tonight I’m thinking about our perspective. As time pulls us ever closer towards a destiny we cannot see clearly we can only measure the progress by looking back. Those things were once shiny and new now serve as landmarks. The old rusted trucks, crumbling stone and this old barn are like anchors that help us navigate the raging river of time. It’s even better if there’s a personal connection with the object. I have to wonder if anyone ever passes this barn and relives a special moment? Was there a first kiss that happened here? Was this the place where a spark grew into true love and then into a family? Was this the place where a parent answered a child’s important questions about life’s mysteries while doing the daily chores? Did a grandparent tell stories about when the parent was a kid? Do these stories still echo across the river of time? Yes. I think that they do. These very old things are the sentinels of memories that are still being made today.
Tag: Architecture
Bridges, Music and Life
Life is a lot like music. The musical scale contains only twelve basic notes. And yet, those twelve notes have spawned every song known to mankind. Life also has its basic elements and rhythm. While I’m not a musician myself my understand is that it’s the bridge that ties it all together. As life changes from one phase to the next we look for a bridge to facilitate the transition. Some bridges are shorter than others but all of them are temporary. How bad would your favorite song be if it was all bridge? We’d miss the best part of the song. Life’s bridges may not be the best part of life but they do take us to those places. We just need keep moving forward.
Spanning The Gap
I have been convinced that nothing is impossible with enough planning and effort. I remember that long winding road through the mountains before they built the New River Gorge Bridge. The road was barely wide enough for one vehicle. I also remember the naysayers who claimed that the construction would never be completed and that the span was way too far. I think several people died building the superstructure but I couldn’t find a statistic. The completion of the bridge was monumental. It erased a large portion of the isolation of my area and opened up a lot of economic growth.
Sometimes we as humans have a tendency to isolate ourselves. It might take a monumental effort to bridge the gap between ourselves and others but the effort to bring us together opens up opportunity for something wonderful.
Willingness
Nestled all throughout the Appalachian Mountains are little churches of all denominations. Regardless of the denomination I’ve always preferred the smaller country churches. Perhaps it’s because I’m uncomfortable with large crowds. I feel more freedom in a smaller venue. It shouldn’t matter because it’s the same Jesus in all churches. But Holy Spirit moves on the willing. When a person feels uncomfortable they just seem to close off. It’s not that God can’t reach them or that they are somehow more unworthy than the rest of us. They just become unwilling. Isn’t that what Christ is seeking in the first place? He didn’t come to collect the perfect or the ultra talented. He came to seek out the lost who are willing to follow. We as Christians seem to always be focused on becoming more perfect but I think that we should be more willing and Jesus Christ will do the rest.
An Echo On The River
Tonight’s image is the remnant of the old bridge at Gauley Bridge. If memory serves me it was burned down during the American Civil War. To me it not only represents history but also a lost future. The fog that surrounds the old pylon gives me the feeling of something ethereal like a visitor from the past has come to the future to check up on things. Is it a manifestation of a memory or am I a vision of the future? It’s in these moments when the past and the future seem to collide that fascinate me. Maybe it was the fog on the river and maybe it was the contrast between the old stones and the seedling trees that are growing out from it that seemed to suspend and warp time for me. I can imagine that I can hear a lament echoing out from the fog. It’s a voice from the past warning not to burn bridges and be quick to reconcile with those on the other side of river.
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