This weekend I went to an estate sale where there were so many extremely old items in a very old house, that you just wanted to linger, touch, and listen. There were clothing and decor items from the early 1900‘s; photos of presidents, including a signatured photo of Lincoln; and innumerable collector’s items and books.
Everything had a price.

With that in mind, as I looked around I wondered: how many hands have these things passed through – the hands which made them, wore them, wrote them, read them, took the photos, or were in the photos? What were their lives like?
And adding to that, moving quickly through time in my thoughts, what are the lives like of all the people today whose hands are foraging through these things? I wondered and listened. It was as though I were walking through a museum whose walls, contents, and voices were each telling stories, all at the same time – voices muffled, distant in time, and too numerable to hear clarity.

But there was one thing that was older than everything and everyone in the house. I opened a thick binding and it’s well-worn, yellow pages fell easily open.


I read some words – His words – and it was as though they pulled a thread through all the voices of time and story. The words pulled them all together, mending the hole and bringing clarity. They simplified man and his things into one piece of hair – light and as small as a moment –  like a single strand, intersecting eternal space and unending time.

I read the words (emphasis mine):

God is our refuge and strength,

a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,

though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,

though its waters roar and foam,

though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;

God will help her when morning dawns.

The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;

he utters his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

Come, behold the works of the Lord,

how he has brought desolations on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;

he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;

he burns the chariots with fire.

“Be still, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!”

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

His words are old, yet are as new as the freshest spring bloom.
His words are the very breath of this life.
His words are His thoughts and mind – they are Him.
And how blessed we are to linger in this very old House and touch, listen and be still;
…..to walk His corridors, wear His garments, and make His thoughts transfuse ours;
…..to turn our momentary life into one transfigured by
His far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory!
You cannot put a price on that.


(Psalm 46; 2 Corinthians 4:17,18)

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