Architectural Sandcastles

Another first for me – participating in the American Institute of Architects highly competitive sandcastle competition on Galveston beach. It is a bit of an exaggeration to say I “participated.” Melinda and I showed up to see our son Alan’s project. He works for James Ray Architects. And he and Jim Ray were there to build their work of art. Their initial design had some flaws, so they decided the night before to switch and produce a manhole cover. Since their workforce consisted of only Alan and Jim, and Kathryn, my daughter-in-law who is soon to deliver, Melinda and I pitched in by hauling some water, walking on the site to pack it down, and throwing some sand around. A couple of other more skilled hands eventually showed up.

I did get to wear a yellow wrist band and received a free floppy-hat from one of the vendors. Eighty four teams were competing in several categories. They each had only eight hours to transform ten cubic yards of sand into their vision. Pretty amazing, really. The sewer manhole idea was a bit of an environmental sarcasm, I think, Galveston Bay being what it is.

I have never been on the beach with so many thousands of people. The swim suit police should have been handing out tee shirts to some of the folks there. No one really wants to see what some of the people were sharing with the world.

Sandcastle art is so fleeting. Even with the 24 hour guard that Galveston provided to protect the displays through Sunday, they will all perish. The wind, the tides, gravity, human destructiveness will cause everyone of them to return to their former state of mere sand.

Here we are, works of art – God’s handiwork (poesis) according to Ephesians 2. But we are fragile and short-lived. Formed of the dust of the ground, we are destined to return to dust. Life is brief and fleeting. Scripture says we are vapors that appear for a short time and then vanish. We are compared to the weeds of the field that floursh, blossom, and then perish. Life is brief at its best.

This week I spoke with a young man whose father, my age, is facing the last few weeks of his life in a bout with cancer. He wanted help with planning a funeral, but it is likely his dad will be gone before I’m back from Africa.

The observation of our human fragility and mortality is not threatening to me, however. I confess with millions before me and millions around me the truth that “I believe in the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting.” That is a truth that has become more, not less, real to me over the years. The reason I confess that hope is because of an earlier portion of the ancient creed:

I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and
earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the
Virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was
buried.
He descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven,and is seated at the right hand of the
Father.
He will come again to judge the living and the dead.

These are not mere words to me. They are the combined corporate experience of disciples of Jesus over centuries. As Rich Mullins put it: “I believe what I believe is what makes me who I am. I did not make it, no it is making me. It is the very truth of God and not the invention of any man.”

So the works of human hands amaze us for the moment, but they will perish. The glory of human lives attracts us, but it will fade. The beauty of human beings enchants us, but it will disappear. Like sandcastles.

What will last will be that which has connected with God through Jesus Christ. I want to live toward that.