sandcastles versus rock

I love flying.  The hustle and bustle of airports appease my restless nature because for that trip there's purpose.. destination.. intention.  And even better, you're surrounded by people traveling to and fro on an unknown journey. I amuse myself by guessing the nature of their travels.  But the true beauty is the view from an airplane.  I love gazing down at the world passing smoothly below.. the fields create a patchwork of greens and browns, with buildings scattered about like toys. Hills and valleys seem to melt together; only the extreme mountain peaks or gorges contrasting against the otherwise flat landscape.  At night, the city lights combine to create a picture with the effect of a light bright, but with a warmth and uniqueness that colored bulbs cannot provide.  Watching the earth slide away under the plane, my view broken my a periodic puff of cloud, I feel a strange detachment.  There's familiarity with the landscape below, but yet it seems fake.. like a painting. And moreover, its untouchable.  My interest in fellow travelers is replaced by curiosity of the earth dwellers.  I wish for a huge telescope to gain close snapshots of their lives.  Little dots move along winding, snakelike dark paths of road.. carrying people to unknown places.  Are they happy or sad?  Will they be joining friends and family tonight or spending time alone?  Do they feel fulfilled or empty?  Have they seen my airplane and wistfully longed to be flying as well?  Interestingly as these question arise, the sense of importance and excitement in traveling seems to leave and is replaced by an uneasy, all to familiar restlessness. I am detached, removed.  As the sun sets with brilliant hues of orange and red and the landscape below fades away to a deep darkness, leaving only the hum of the plane's engines, I seem to return to present... settling back to enjoy the rest of the journey.

I do not fly very often, but all too frequently I feel such detachment which breeds restlessness... as though I'm a plane in the sunset, with nowhere to land.  Its fabulous to travel through the skies, but part of the thrill accompanies the landing; the accomplishment of the trip reached.  But imagine flying from airport to airport, without completing or fulfilling a purpose... no one to greet and welcome you home.  Switchfoot's song continues...all I see it could never make me happy, and all my sandcastles spent their time collapsing. Although I can identify with the sentiments, I do not fully understand the reason there seems to be no destination or place to rest.  All I know is at times, I feel stuck watching history repeating...and grow weary.  But thankfully, the song doesn't end there.

The tricky bit about sandcastles is that they are made of sand...and very easily destroyed by water, wind, or people's careless trampings.  While intriguing and fascinating to see, they're nothing to depend upon. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash (Matthew 7:26).  Seems obvious: don't trust sand.  Instead, look for solidity, strength, and assurance in rocks - all other ground is sinking sand.  Although such logic makes complete sense and proven repeatedly by experiences... it can be difficult to ignore the sand.  After-all, sand is far more interesting.  It can be molded and shaped, mixed with water or left dry, it can hide objects or fall like silk through a sieve.  But at the end of the day, it will not last. Regardless of effort, desire, creativity or time the design will collapse; each grain of sand falling into anonymity with millions of others.  As if we were never there.   And so.. the plane moves on, searching for another more dependent and sustainable location to land.

Let me know that you hear me, 

Let me know your touch, 

Let me know that you love me,

Maybe we will learn to stay with the rock... and let that be enough.