There is
something soothing about the sound of a beach, especially at night.
On a sand
beach, the waves have a particular timbre, and the hiss of receding water
develops a distinct rhythm. The same sounds that encourage us to unwind are
also hard at work. We have a sand-glazed bottle that we found on a sand dune on
Cape Cod. Seasons of washing in the tide and sandblasting by the wind removed
all indication of what came in the bottle, and left a simple thing of beauty.
On the rocky
beach where we go in Maine the waves boom against ledges, the boom followed by
soft clattering as millions of tiny stones are rolled together up and down the
shore. It’s a sound that induces almost immediate relaxation, but here again
the strength of wind and wave are at work. Starting off as rough chunks of
granite, quartz or perhaps jasper, the action of the waves tumbles the stones
together, wearing off the rough edges, shaping them in infinite variety, and
polishing them to a high degree of smoothness. The abrasion of stone upon stone
turns chunks of rocks into objects of great beauty.
Some years ago
someone pointed out to me that a stone beach in Maine can show us something
important about Christian community. We come into the church, all of us, from
different families and places, each of us bringing our own particularities. We
look different. We work at different vocations. We have different tastes,
different skills; we have different abilities and different disabilities. All
this difference, with one thing in common: at some level each of us wants to
find meaning, hope, and purpose in our lives. We want to know where we fit in
the overall scheme of things. In
short, we want to know God. All these differences, and we find ourselves
together on the same beach, which we call “church.”
This is not to
deny that life in community can be challenging, and even that it can take an
unhealthy turn. In 42 years of
pastoral ministry I’ve seen plenty of challenge, and experienced my share of
conflict to boot. Now it’s
perfectly true that conflict within our churches can get out of hand, and
people can get hurt. Additionally,
it makes a very poor witness to those standing outside, who far too often
conclude that if the latest scrum at First Church by the Village Green is a
sample of Christianity in action, then they want no part of either. But it is also in the difficult times
that God moves to transform us, and perhaps that’s what we need to continually
recall. Christian community is not
about growing us into nicer people; it’s about changing us into new beings.
Just as the
particular beauty of each rock on the beach is drawn forth by the washing and
rubbing of the tide, so the give and take, push and pull, yes even the abrasion
of being together as church can wear off our edges, bring out our colors and
shape the form of our Christian witness. Sometimes it’s a refreshing tumble as we roll in the surf.
Sometimes there is pressure as the needs of the moment pile us together.
Sometimes we experience the abrasion of rubbing against the ideas and
priorities of others. But if we
stay engaged and connected to one another, our life as God’s people will change
us from lonely, isolated chunks of rock into unique stones of great
beauty. This is possible if we
keep our eyes on what we have in common: our faith, and our desire to live
it. We can be together, can be
rolled about like the stones on the beach, and in the process be shaped and
grown as new persons and as renewing congregations.
Howard MacMullen
© August, 2013
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