sand castles and beginning again
[my year in review station 17]
sandcastles and never ending tides
an excerpt from my work,
Life In Review: An Interactive Guide to Deconstruct Faith Toward Hope
I never set out to purposely deconstruct my faith. And, I certainly have never been out to destroy the faith of others. Over time, over many experiences, the faith I once knew started falling apart. It was not all at once with some kind of grand declaration. It began to happen, much like the tide comes in at the beach. All day you can work in the sand, building an intricate and elaborately beautiful castle. You can play in it, take selfies around it, and even invite others to join in and collaborate the construction of it. But at some point, the evening comes. The sun sets, and with it, the water rises. The water first comes to the edge, seeping in only around the lower, easy to reach areas. But over time, the water crashes against the more established structures. The ocean tide pours in through the rooms and barriers, across the decor and event to the most fortified towers. Nightfall brings with it an even a higher flow. Soon the sea has replaced any evidence of that which was built.
By morning, yesterdays work is gone.
The beach is new again.
We could stop there.
And this story would take a different turn.
It would be a story of destruction.
A story where no faith is left.
A cleared beach and a cleared faith.
And yet, this is not my story.
My story is one where I trek to the beach the next morning. My family and friends join me in inhabiting the sandy coastline once again. The salty air fills our lungs like hope comes with the sunrise. We see the tide-wiped beach as a canvas to build on again. While we will certainly remember the castle from the day before — it will always have an echo; we reimagine what might be built anew this day. We create with no illusion of withstanding the tide. We build the sand knowing there is a perpetual creativity and reshaping effort ahead.
Why would we ever build again, knowing what we know about the tide?
This is summer, it is the time to build! We are not tasked with controlling or avoiding the tide, but living with it, and playing on the beach once again. The question we will better answer is not so much, WHY, but WHAT.
What will we build today?
Okay okay, I know. Jesus said something about building your house on the sand. We are to build on our firm foundation, the Rock; so that our faith will stand firm against the tide. This, I do understand. I don’t mean to ignore or make light of such a valuable and beautiful picture of faith. However, I feel like my faith looks a lot more like the castle build to willingly receive the tide and be reshaped again. You see. I believe Jesus is the Rock. I believe there is a firm foundation in Christ. And yet, I also believe that rock we actually build on is often our own need for control, certainty, and expectation we put on God that has little to do with anything Jesus invites us into. I think we’ve miss the point of Jesus as Rock and Refuge, of solid foundation and cornerstone. We have worshipped a rock and in doing so, become one. A stone pillar. A marble statue. An inflexible, “I’ll do anything as long as you don’t mess with my understanding of life” kind of perspective.
Debbie Blue paints a picture of the Scriptures that speaks to this metaphor of rock, Maybe (The Bible) is more like an octopus than a rock, something more wriggly, something you can hardly keep track of, but it draws you in. And messes with you a little. It’s not a thing that is laid out flat on a page; it’s more of a creature that interacts with you to help you undergo something, dismantle something, usher you into relationship . . . The Word of God isn’t a series of flat narratives with clear points; it’s a wild unmanageable, ‘moving, living organ.’
- Debbie Blue, From Stone to Living Word
What Blue does with the Scriptures, I want to inject in our entire view of Jesus as the Rock. I think I can identify way more with the invitation Jesus gives Peter to take a step on the top of the crashing wave rather than some sure footed secure and guaranteed stable rock solid path. When sure footing is assumed, there is less relationship needed. When we get used to the sure footing, we then demand and expect this to continue. Life however, offers no sure footing. This is why I really struggle with the Rock metaphor. I too easily confuse Jesus as Savior to mean Jesus save me from the hard things in life. Blue says all of this unwieldiness, “ushers you into relationship.”
THE TIDE OF DECONSTRUCTION ALWAYS COMES IN
. . . MAKING THINGS NEW.
Observe what the previous person built.
Now wipe it clean.
REBUILDING WITH TIDES IN MIND
Take any combination of the molds before you and build your world anew.
As you create, consider the deconstruction story of the sandcastle.
What resonated with you regarding the story of the sandcastle? How does this station help you consider the work our church is doing to reframe faith? What is scary or uncertain to you about deconstructing faith?
