Hooked on Rocks, Part Two

The jury’s still out.

After finding gems in purchased buckets of dirt several weeks ago, we decided to try our hand at digging up our own dirt.

At one site, we paid to dig in some tailings from area mines, and spent about an hour looking for “color” in a pile of rocks and sand. Three different employees gave us three different ways to go about this. I was drawn to the white rocks but was quickly told that was just rock. It’s a lot harder to find color in dry sand.

We didn’t feel very successful, but when we sat at the sluice and washed our “keepers,” we discovered we had several nice sized garnets, as well as lots of quartz and moonstones. My husband thinks quartz is so plentiful that it’s not worth the effort, but it is pretty and can be made into some nice jewelry, so we kept it.

The second place we tried allows you to dig in the “mine” or to hunt for stones in the creek. We thought the mine sounded more promising, so we opted to dig. We discovered the mine was really just a series of open pits spread over a wide area, so we had no idea where to start.

It was Labor Day weekend, and the place was really busy, so the staff had no time to provide much instruction. We asked for advice and were told to “find the deepest hole and dig there.”

What we found was red Carolina clay with some layers of soft rock. We asked other diggers, but everyone else was a first-timer, as well. Finding “color” when the clay sticks to everything was even harder than finding it in dry sand. We picked through spades of clay, selecting a handful of rocks to examine more closely at the sluice. After washing the clay off, we had a few stones that might be garnets or emeralds, and again, several quartz-like pieces.

Unfortunately, the staff helping with identification had long lines and we decided not to wait to find out what we had found. For all we know, we may have brought back more red clay than gems, since the clay seemed to cover everything we wore, as well as our tools.

We came home with a determination to learn more before we go digging on our own again. It helps to know what you’re looking for.

I guess the spiritual application is this: God knows the treasure that is hidden inside each one of us. Sometimes it is not revealed to others—or even to ourselves—until we are washed clean by Jesus Christ.

Electronic Touchpad for Life

Life seems more like gymnastics than a race. But I think I’d prefer a race.

When Michael Phelps won the Olympic 100-meter butterfly by one-hundredth of a second, the electronic touchpad provided a clear, black-and-white decision. Even more than the slow-motion photography, electronics removed all shadows of doubt.

In gymnastics, diving, and tumbling, by contrast, the decisions are made by a complicated system of difficulty ratings and judges’ points. The variation between judges sometimes makes you wonder if they’re looking at the same competitor, or creates questions about objectivity. How can one individual’s dive be rated both a 6 and a 9 by different judges?

It sometimes feels as though we’re being rated in how we live. Did the way I treated my husband today deserve a 9.5, or was it only worth a 7.0? Was the lunch-table conversation with my co-workers worthy of a gold medal, or would we have been out of medal contention?

Fortunately, the only judge that matters in life is God. And He doesn’t play favorites, or use a complicated scoring method. In fact, He really has given us an electronic “touchpad,” of sorts. All He asks is that we “touch” His Son, Jesus Christ. “Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me’” (John 14:6, NIV).

If we receive Christ as Savior and seek to follow Him in all we do, we don’t have to worry about the score. All God asks is that we put forth the effort. He doesn’t judge us on how well we do, just that we ran the race.

But a “no decision” is a “no” decision. There are no silver or bronze medals when we die. Either we place our faith in Jesus and get to spend eternity with Him, or we don’t, and we will be separated from God forever.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize” (1 Corinthians 9:24, NIV).

It's Easy Being Green

Being green is all the rage these days. Seems like it happened faster than it takes to pump a dollar’s worth of gas. Who was talking about being green three months ago?

Now, everywhere you turn, some company trumpets their latest earth-friendly initiative, or tells you how you can join the “revolution.” My credit union has a “green” url, according to their Web site. Isn’t the Internet inherently “green”? It eliminates the need for paper, stamps, gas to go shopping, and energy for phone calls. (Okay, that last one is tongue-in-cheek.)

I remember when being “green” was ugly. It meant you were unreasonably jealous. No one would admit to having this weakness, and if you were accused of it, you would get even more upset.

Then, of course, there were the little green men from Mars. And you certainly didn’t want to claim that distinction.

Not that I have a problem with saving the earth. After all, “the earth is the LORD's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it" (Psalm 24:1, NIV). We should do all we can, within reason, to preserve natural resources and protect the environment.

It’s just that I wonder why so many people can become evangelists for creation, but they’re ashamed to speak up on behalf of the Creator. They’re eager to learn ways to save energy, but few are willing to go out of their way to know the Savior.

Jesus promised, “Stand up for me against world opinion and I'll stand up for you before my Father in heaven. If you turn tail and run, do you think I'll cover for you?” (Matthew 10:32-33, MSG). I pray that you will be willing to stand up for Christ against world opinion, so that He won't be ashamed of you when your life on this earth is over.

Hooked on rocks

I think I’m hooked.

Last weekend, we went hunting for gems. Not dig-in-the-dirt, get-muddy-all-over kind of rockhounding, mind you. We took the “easy” way, for now, and bought buckets of dirt, which we sifted through screens over a flume. Maybe we’ll try the messy, dig-your-own kind of treasure hunting next time.

But this time, we were rewarded with lots of rubies, a few sapphires, some amethyst, and, best of all, a big emerald. Actually, this rock is about four inches in diameter and contains at least 3 emeralds. The jeweler at one of the mines estimated their combined weight will be about six carats. Pretty exciting. I can’t wait to see them after they are cut.

Oh, wait. Getting them cut is a problem. We could have left them with a jeweler at the mines. We’d have to wait at least six weeks to get them back. Instead, we’re hoping to find someone closer to home, who’s not so far behind.

After the stones are cut, we still need to figure out how to get them mounted without spending an arm and a leg. After all, what good is it to have beautiful, real-gem rings if I don’t have any fingers to put them on?

Now, I’ve never been one to wear lots of jewelry, or anything real flashy. But there is something about the hunt and the reward of success that is more exciting than store-bought, any day. I will be proud to wear the final result because I will know that it is unique and because I will remember the fun we had finding the gems.

Maybe Christ takes the same sort of pleasure in us when we decide to follow Him. After all, it’s been said, He seeks us until we find Him. Then He cuts and shapes us into the jewels that He designed us to be.

Dancing with the Creator

We were privileged to attend a Steven Curtis Chapman concert at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville on Friday night.

You may know that the Chapmans’ 5-year-old daughter Maria was tragically killed in an accident in May.

We thrilled to listen to his music while watching the sunset over the North Carolina mountains. From the opening song, Blessed Be the Name of the Lord, to the final number, I felt that even the rocks were crying out in praise to the Creator.

Tears didn’t flow like I expected them to. But Steven Curtis Chapman talked about Maria and the music before he sang each song. He provided context for the songs—all of which were written before Maria’s death—explaining that grief has made the words more real to him today than when he wrote them.

I don’t remember his exact words but his basic message was this: he doesn’t have it all figured out, but he does know that God is faithful, and that he will dance with Maria again—someday in Heaven.

It was humbling to see this father able to say, “Yes, God, even little Maria is Yours,” after losing her so suddenly at such a young age. So was standing under the canopy of God’s creation and worshipping our Father with him.

The Chapmans had adopted Maria from China, and her father reminded us that we were all once like Maria—orphans without hope. But once we place our faith in Jesus Christ, we are adopted into God’s family forever. I am thankful that we have never had to face the kind of sudden, life-shattering tragedy the Chapmans have dealt with these last two months. I pray that, in the daily “crises” that seem so difficult, I will have the same grace and deep assurance of God’s goodness and love.