Tuesday night as I went to bed, it was raining. Thick gray sheets from the sky, so hard and heavy I thought it was flooding. I thought about an ark and imagined myself beneath the covers seeking shelter from the storm. Snuggling in a safe place.
I went to sleep thinking about Noah. Thinking about his ark. What it was like to live in that boat for days in the rain and floods, bobbing about with all the animals of the earth.
How strange it is that Noah had to build his own ark. Why couldn’t the God of the universe have given him the boat? God can do all things. He had created the universe with the words of his mouth. Certainly he could have made the ark for Noah. He could have spoken it into existence with one breath.
If Noah had been alive in this day, I don’t know if he would have built an ark either. Maybe he would have bought a pre-fab kit on sale at Wal-Mart. Or hired some subs to do the work for him.
But there was something else Noah was building when he was building the ark. As he hammered the wood and nails, he was constructing a vessel of faith, both tangible and spiritual. It seemed foolish. It seemed strange. It was lonely labor. But as he built, he created a safe place inside as well as outside.
I feel that is where I am now in my faith. I’m building an ark. It seems stupid. Strange. Too much effort. I wonder why I’m doing this. I wish God would just give it to me instead of making me hammer through it. I don’t like all the labor. I hit my fingers instead of the nails and I yell. I wonder if it’s worth it. Maybe I’ll stop.
But I sense that what I’m doing is building a safe place for the future. I can’t see it now. Yet when the floods come, I will have shelter. I will be warm and dry. I will be able to stay afloat in the sea because I built a boat. And I hope to invite others to come along with me and find shelter here…
