Rocks

It was one of the best parties I’ve ever attended. Beautiful site, incredible food, aged wine, stimulating, supportive friends. Allan gave the party for Brenda, his wife who turned 60. The focus of course was on Brenda. So I was surprised when Brenda and her friend Nancy came to Jane and me with little gifts. They were in appreciation of our roles in leading a just completed tour to Luther Land in Germany.

One of the gifts was a small rock, nothing more than a pebble. It was picked up at the Wartburg Castle in Germany, the site where Luther was held safe from those who sought to kill him. We had explored that castle, stood where Luther stood, peered in the cubicle that was his home for 9 long months. This little rock spoke to our friends saying, “Take me to Mel and Jane.” They did. It is indeed a precious stone.

Stones have not always seemed so precious to me. When as a young child I dug in the dirt, pesky stones prevented me from digging very deep. When I picked cotton and the knees on which I crawled down the rows landed on a stone it really hurt. Years later I fought a nasty legal action against a corrupt construction company which only took stone from a church/school site instead of leveling the site for construction of the building.

I spent more than 2 years on a church fund-raising effort built upon a Biblical theme of an Old Testament stone set up as an icon for remembering the greatness and goodness of God.

And now this little stone takes on surprising meaning for me. Like Luther, I struggle. Like Luther, I get upset with the institutional church. Like Luther, I feel like hurling things at evil forces. More importantly, like Luther, I find something outside myself to rest upon, to hope upon, to rely upon: a Rock of Ages.