Culturally Irrelevant

The other day I was walking by a new housing development and noticed a builder laying stone for the exterior of a house. It was really cool stonework, so I took the sidewalk that ran along the site. As I got closer, I was surprised and shocked by what I saw.

Actually, it was what I heard that first caught my attention. It looked like the builder was talking to someone, so I assumed there was another worker behind the wall that I couldn’t see. But then I began to hear several other voices. As I listened, I realized there were a number of conversations going on, but the only person I could see was the guy laying stone. Out of curiosity, I managed to take a few steps closer and get a better angle.

Then I saw it. There were no other workers around, just the builder. And he was definitely talking…to the stones in the wall! And they were talking back to him. More precisely, they were carrying on conversations, with him, with each other. I couldn’t believe it! I looked everywhere for a hidden camera or a van with tinted windows to make sure I wasn’t the object of some elaborate practical joke.  OK, no mysterious van nearby. What’s going on?

Looking back towards the house, I was transfixed. Within seconds I began to notice that it wasn’t just the stones. It was the entire job site. Boards, nails, stacks of re-bar, tools, piles of hardware…all talking and interacting. I began to feel like I was in some kind of sci-fi-twilight-zone.

The job site was typical, kind of messy but with a general sense of order and process. And here was this man by himself just working away, carrying on conversations with all of the stuff around him. He was sweaty, smiling, obviously enjoying his work. I could hear a dozen different conversations going on as stones and timbers were laughing, encouraging each other, making sure they were lined up and staying connected.

Every now and then a couple stones would get into an argument about which of them should be above the other, and then that would set off similar arguments among other stones and even some of the tools. I saw one stone actually throw itself off the wall onto the foundation. There was a loud crash and dust went billowing as the builder went over to inspect what had happened. The little rock was badly chipped on one corner and groaning quite loudly as the builder bent down to pick it up. I couldn’t hear everything it said, but it sounded like it was complaining about where it had been placed on the wall. Something about it wanting to be on the front wall next to the main doorway rather than the side wall. The builder just listened and nodded his head while the little rock talked, quietly dusting it off and holding up the piece that had been broken off. He set the stone off to the side, said something inaudible, and then went back to work.

I stood there for a long time, watching the builder and listening to all the conversations going on. As the sun began to set I knew I had to get home, but it was hard to tear myself away. The one thing that impressed me the most was how all of these materials had minds of their own, free to do as they pleased and go wherever they wanted, yet they were content, for the most part, and even happy, to be where the builder placed them. Many of the older tools were encouraging the newer tools and giving them tips. The bigger, more visible pieces were congratulating and honoring parts that were hidden or less noticeable. And, for the most part, everything stayed where it was placed. I began to wonder if certain sections of the wall had ever agreed to split off and do their own thing, or if any of the tools ever went on strike. I mean, how could a builder work with tools and materials that had a mind and will of their own? It was a wonder that this work was even standing, yet there it was!

Finally, I watched a perfectly good piece of lumber get covered up with a stone and some mortar. I can still hear its muffled little voice laughing and carrying on about how great the house was looking from his perspective. As I walked away, his voice trailed off. I think he was telling the builder how excited he was about everything getting finished so the owner could move in.  I didn’t see the builder’s response, but I’m sure he was smiling as he wiped the sweat from his face.

1 Peter 2:5 “…you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”