My friend Paul was sharing with me a
story about a recent trip to the mountains where he had an odd spiritual
experience. It all started while walking with some of his friends along
mountain trails on their way to an overnight camp out. As he was crossing over
a stream along the way he randomly picked up a rock to take along with him,
something he did quite often on
treks such as this one. It wasn’t a
particularly interesting or colorful rock. He really had no specific motive for
picking it up initially other than that it was black and it felt good in his
hands. Almost reflexively he pulled the rock from the cold water, dried it on
his shirt, and placed it in his pants pocket as they continued up out of the
stream and up along a newfound trail.
As the group of friends made their way
up the mountain they happened to pass an older gentleman coming down the same
trail. After a brief bit of friendly chit-chat one of Paul’s friends asked the
older man if he had any words of wisdom for their group.
“You mean, like a mantra or
something?” the old man asked. “Yeah, something like that,” Paul’s friend said.
The older gentleman took a short moment to reflect and then he said, “I’ve got
just two words for you,” he said. “The first is ‘Immanuel’, and the second one
is ‘Maranatha’.” The group nodded their heads and smiled, and after a bit more
chit-chat the two groups parted.
As they continued walking, the
conversation in Paul’s group shifted to discuss the meaning of the words the older
gentleman had shared with them. No one was certain what they meant, but Paul
made a point to remember them so he could look them up when he got back home.
Eventually the group arrived at the
cabin where they had planned to spend the evening. One of the women in the
group asked Paul if he had ever prayed before. He said that he sometimes
meditated in the mornings, but had really never prayed before. Something about
the interaction with the old man made him feel like he should start to pray, or
at least to try, the next time he was enjoying his morning meditation.
That very next morning, Paul woke up
and went about his usual routine of meditation. He began to think about what
had happened the previous day,and did his best to pray about those words and
what meaning, if any, they might have for him. He was also holding on to the
rock he had found in the stream the day before. The rock that he had selected
at random and placed almost absently into his pocket was nestled into the palm
of his right hand as he sat, eyes closed, on the floor.
Suddenly Paul felt the urge to open
his hand to look closer at the rock. As he opened his hand and looked at it
closer he almost did a double-take. There, clearly and naturally formed across
one side of the stone was the unmistakable form of a cross. Paul sat silently
and looked at the rock. He wondered now even more about the meaning of the
events of the previous day.
Sitting in my living room, telling me
this story, Paul pulled out the rock and handed it to me. I was amazed at his
story, and even more amazed to actually hold this rock in my hands.
The shape of the cross was
unmistakable, but clearly not man-made at all. The shape had been formed along
the surface eons ago when the rock was first formed, and etched by the constant
erosion of the stream it had been pulled from only weeks earlier. Now it was in
my hand and I could easily imagine what Paul must have felt when he first
opened his hand and realized the significance of the stone and the image that
marked it.
I was reminded of the Proverb that
says, “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of Kings to
search it out.” (Proverbs 25:2)
Paul and I discussed the method that
Jesus used to teach people about the Kingdom of God during his ministry on
Earth, how He told stories that made people wonder and how He never seemed to
answer a question unless it was with a question of his own. Paul had been given
a riddle of sorts and now had the privilege to work out what it all meant. Paul
shared with me that, so far, all he knew for certain was that he was supposed
to tell his story to people, and not just anyone, but people who would be
likely to appreciate it. I felt honored to hold this stone in my
hand and to have heard Paul’s amazing
story. It was with some reluctance that I handed the stone back to him.
In his search for the meaning of this
experience, Paul had printed out the Wikipedia definitions of the words
“Immanuel” and “Maranatha” and he unfolded the papers and passed them to me. He
and I talked about these words and I expressed to him my sincere curiosity
regarding his journey to discover the meaning of this rock that had found him
in the stream.
In many ways I envied my friend Paul
for his opportunity to learn the meaning of this mysterious rock and the two
corresponding words left to him by a stranger on the side of a mountain.
As far as I could see, Paul had been
given the words, “Immanuel” (which means ‘God with us’) and “Maranatha” (which
means ‘He has come’). He had been given a rock with a very obvious cross on it
to accentuate those two words. A rock which he would not have picked up had
they crossed the stream a few feet to the right or to the left, and which he
admits he might not have picked up at all considering the randomness of his
choice of stones there in the stream. He was also encouraged by his friend to
pray and that next morning all of these various elements converged together to
spark his imagination and his journey of discovery regarding the meaning of the
message. This is why Jesus loved to use parables to teach his disciples, so
that when the meaning was finally discovered, the person would own the truth
and treasure the revelation. When someone gives you the answer you don’t value
the information as much. When
you’re handed the keys you lose the
thrill of the chase and the joy of discovery.
I pray that even more people will
discover a stone in the stream or cross paths with wise old men bearing clues
to the journey of life. We all need more questions to work out with fear and
trembling. We all need to seek the Truth.
Maybe the clues are already all around
us?
Maybe we’re just not paying enough
attention?
All creation cries out and pours forth
speech, day and night. Sometimes even the rocks cry out.
