A Rock Song
It’s four in the morning and I can’t sleep. I get up and try to repeat my night time ritual, in the hope it will somehow help me to fall asleep when my head hits the pillow, but no. I am more awake than ever. I listen to the wind roaring in the trees. I listen to the wind roaring from my husband’s lips! My mind starts to wander and race as I realize I won’t be getting any more sleep this morning.
I remember a friend of mind telling me about an exercise she did with her Bible Study group. The reading was about the woman at the well. They were to imagine that they were an inanimate object at the scene, and describe what they saw, heard and felt. I think I might give it a try since it is obvious that I have plenty time on my hands!
At first I found myself identifying with the woman, a sinner, but she seems pretty ‘animate’ so I close my eyes and try again. I picture a well made of stone, much like a wishing well, but without the roof. All around the well is sand, dry burning sand, rising in hot, shimmering dunes. Behind my back is probably a village, but from where I stand I see only the rock of the well and the sand.
What should I be? A bird? A cloud? A rock? Yes, I think I’ll be a rock. Not one of the perfectly hewn rocks that make up the well, but a misshapen rock that the well builders have thrown to the side. Although I have one flat, perfect side, the rest of me is uneven and of no use to anyone, so here I lie. Years of wind and sand have all but covered me up. I lie here alone, unnoticed, useless, but wait …
A shadow has fallen over me. It belongs to a man. He is sitting on the side of the well talking to a woman. I don’t know who he is, but his shadow is cool. It fills me with hope, and somehow I begin to smile, despite the empty life I have led. I can hear him talking to the woman, and I think I should be listening. I’m sure his message must be important, but all I can think about is… I hope he comes closer!
The woman hands him a drink and, joy of joys, he comes over and stands beside me. He doesn’t step on me as so many have done in the past, but he acknowledges my presence and then stands there, right beside ME! My pain and loneliness disappear! I am healed! I know Him now: he is the Christ, my Redeemer, my Healer.
Again I try to listen, but my mind wanders to another place, another message.
“Why waste your breath moaning at the crowd? Nothing can be done to stop the shouting. If every tongue were still, the noise would still continue. The very rocks and stones themselves would start to sing!”
I am overcome with joy and I long to sing with my brothers. “Hosanna, King of Kings!
Hosanna, Lord of Lords!
Hosanna, redeemer of the misshapen!”
I have been made whole. The rock that the well builders have rejected may well become the cornerstone of a temple or a great monument, or maybe even a McDonald’s.
He’s going now. He’s on his way, but I know that even though He is gone He will be in my heart forever. What can I do to show that I have changed when I’m still almost invisible, still buried here in the sand? I know! I can quietly pray for the people who come to this well, starting with that woman right there. (She’s so lucky; she actually got to talk to Him!) I pray that she heard the message that He had for her, special and unique, just as mine was special and unique. I pray that as she labors with her heavy burden He may refresh her, just as I have been refreshed. May she be healed and filled with joy. May her heart and soul be filled with the song that all we rocks sing.
Hosanna, King of Kings!
Hosanna, Lord of Lords!
Hosanna, Redeemer of the misshapen!
Alleluia! Amen!
