As our plane circled London, waiting for its turn to come down, I peered out the window at houses, houses, houses. Big houses with landscaped gardens, little houses all alike with squares of green, farms, estates, castles, cottages. I thought of a little old house built 177 years ago we had looked through recently. Its four rooms were on three floors connected by solid stone stairways. How many generations had walked up and down those stairs? How many toddlers had learned to climb them? How many elderly people had helped themselves up the steps with a cane or come carefully down clutching the iron railings? How many births and deaths had taken place within these walls?
There is a charm about ivy-covered stone walls, about the richness of old glass, that cannot be copied in mass production, but it isn’t just the workmanship that gives old houses an atmosphere; it is the thought that as we walk about for a short time, or actually settle in to live within the old walls, we are a part of a long stream of people who have done the same. How many more generations will sleep sheltered by these walls, will eat at this same solid oak table, will swing this door open on its iron hinges, will sit under this same tree, when I am no longer here? Wood, brick, stone, iron, and even growing trees are more “lasting” than our bodies. Although I can master these walls—can paint them or cut a doorway through them or even tear them down—still my substance is more frail than theirs.
We were given a wonderful book of pictures and text showing some of the great variety of authentic old Swiss chalets. The giver translated for us a German inscription on one of the chalets, “Wohnhaus,” in St. Peter, Graubunden. In this area the old builders carved or painted Bible verses or words of wisdom to be read by all passersby, and this is the inscription on “Wohnhaus”: “I have built a protection for my body. This will soon be used by someone else. Help, Jesus, that your spirit drives me to build what stays with me forever. One thing though stays secure: God and his word will never perish.” Dear old builder who hammered your nails so well, who built with beauty as well as sturdiness, your chalet indeed protected your body for a short period of time and has protected many others since then. And your words still tell the passerby of a far more lasting building, an eternal one.
It is in God’s Word that we look for a balance of outlook when we are distressed by the frailty of human life as we see it evidenced in funerals or hospitals. In his Word we learn that what we see with our eyes is not final; we are to be permanently renovated! When our bodies are raised from the dead, the renovation, which will have taken place in the twinkling of an eye, will far outdo any costly human restoration of ancient buildings. Our bodies are to be like Christ’s glorious body, and will last forever and ever.
The Bible shows us continually God’s promises to provide us with all we need. A place to dwell, a house, is one of the things included in “Seek ye first the kingdom of God … and all these things shall be added unto you.” We can pray about the right house, and see God’s leading, time after time.
Come to Hebrews 3:3, 4: “For this man was counted worthy of more glory than Moses, inasmuch as he who hath builded the house hath more honor than the house. For every house is builded by some man: but he that built all things is God.” The Lord himself is said to be “our dwelling place” (Ps. 90:1). And we are to remember that God is preparing a place for us that may be beyond our power to imagine but can be understood in a measure by what we experience in lovely houses here. “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:1, 2). These dwelling places will not outlast our new bodies, because those bodies will be everlasting bodies that cannot be spoiled by war, or accident, or disease. That Swiss-German builder and we will be able to enjoy the “prepared place” without wondering when we will have to leave it, for we will be home forever.
