This Easter season, something jumped out at me. Rocks. You may say it is a reach, but I noticed the word throughout the traditional scriptures of the Easter story. The rocks that would rejoice if his disciples did not, along that palm-strewn entrance to Jerusalem. The rocks that split in pieces when Jesus breathed his last. I could go on, but I want to visit about those first.
Rocks singing hallelujah! Can you imagine. Once I had a close friend that was seriously ill, close to the end of his life. He suffered Alzheimers and I had said my good-byes some time back. However, I had a trip planned out of town to the beautiful hill country of Texas and I hated to leave him and his family at such a difficult time. They urged me to go and I did. My prayer along the way was for God to "nudge" me regularly to pray for my friend and those he loved. I just knew I would get caught up in the beauty of the landscape and forget these folks. But it was just the opposite. Everytime I saw a sunset, viewed a valley, a craggy rock formation, or sat amidst a field of wildflowers, they just screamed at me. I am not exaggerating. They literally praised God and I could not help but join in, lifting the name of my friend and family to Him in the chorus. It was an incredible experience. So I can imagine singing rocks!
The rocks in pieces, I can see that too. If rocks could sing, why wouldn't they be able to grieve. To mourn and wail in the sounds of an earthquake, fracturing and flinging their stony arms abroad, bemoaning the pain of His death. An earth that so celebrated His coming, now so distressed by our ignorance and neglect of its Prince of Peace. Yes, I can see rocks grieving.
Rocks - who'd have thought it. Maybe pet rocks were not such a stupid idea after all.
