Legacy

"...not on tablets of stone but on tablets of the human heart" (2 CO 3:3b).

I saw a monument this weekend in the middle of the Wyoming prairie built to honor the Ames brothers of Massachusettes who were instrumental in building the first transcontinental railroad. The monument was erected on this high plain in 1882 at a staggering cost of $65,000 and at the highest point on the railroad at just over 8,700 feet. It's an impressive 30 foot high granite structure resembling a pyramid with the portraits of both men carved into red sandstone towards the top, and the noses of both men appear to be eroding. It was built on a choice site beside the rail line and was a centerpiece of the town of Sherman, Wyoming.

There is no trace of either the town of Sherman or the old rail line. Both have completely vanished long ago.

All that remains of what once was is this odd monument so strangely placed in the lost space of the Wyoming prairie. With the exception of a few ranchers and wayfarers like myself who wander off the beaten path, this monolith, I'm sure, goes largely unnoticed. To be honest, I didn't stumble across it by accident but found it because my brother told me it was there. I was amazed at its immensity and a little amused at its peculiarity.

Having our legacy written in stone is important to some. We erect monuments to commemorate significant events and place headstones on our graves as proof that we were once here. Whether we inscribe our name in marble monuments or carve our name onto the bark of a tender aspen tree, it seems like we are grasping for a little bit of permanence that will out-live our presence here.

Proof that we existed. Something that says our life here mattered.

I love walking through old cemeteries to see the dates on the tombstones and think about what life must have been like back then, but even the finest crafted stone can only extend the reminder of our existence by a 100 years or so. Eventually, the stone will erode and be returned to the earth from which it was hewn. Our best efforts at gaining permanence and validity in stone and structure are temporary at best.

I don't really believe that our structures validate our existence or measure our success. We can obsess over our buildings as though they validate our existence and provide proof that we've "arrived". Often, I've heard that a church isn't a "real church" until it has its own building. For some people, they believe personal success is found in owning your own home rather than in renting. Although these structures provide a sense of permanence, I feel we miss the point when we base so much of our security on what moth, rust, and decay will eventually claim.

In the Kingdom of God, what matters is what is passed from person to person. The scriptures teach us that Christ is building a spiritual house with living stones, not one of bricks and mortar. The love of God is inscribed into the hearts of men, women, and children, and we are His legacy...participating with Him in loving and serving the world in which we live. Our lives don't become legitimate because of what we build but are legitimate because of Who's identity we carry in our lives. Our success as a church or as individuals is not in building or owning but in passing the love of God from person to person. It is His Spirit that keeps this spiritual house alive from generation to generation.

Religion builds institutions and trusts structures, but Jesus calls us to invest in people the same sacrificial love and grace that has been invested into us. Our legitimacy doesn't come from the number of years we've existed or the number of monuments and buildings connected with our name but is, instead, something much more spiritual...

...and much more real.