I have long heard tales about the glories of the Woodbrooke library, how it is a literal treasure trove of hundreds of years of Quaker thought, writings from as long as Quakers have been practicing this particular spirituality. I have been told how people come from far and wide to study here and to open the books held within its walls, how there are many nuggets of gold among the pages never fully explored. I had also read guests could borrow the books while they were here.
Thus, when I saw the stained glass door with the word "library" incorporated into the design, I was rather excited. Being a very curious person, using my key, I unlocked the door, walked down a short hallway, and entered a cream colored, small room. On my right was a locked door labeled "library office" and I could see through the glass window there were shelves of material stored in there. On my left, were bookshelves full of fiction and poetry and while scanning the volumes, I was pleasedd to see they had the full sets of Harry Potter and Narnia. Still, I wanted to write while I was here, not read, and besides, I would be more interested in non-fiction anyway. I figured they stored the old books in the office to protect them while no one was on duty. Rather dissapointed as this did not live up to the glories I had heard of, I turned around and walked out.
The next morning, I was eating breakfast with several of the other conference participants when one of them was telling us about how she spent a very enjoyable time the evening before in the library and how when she left, there were several other people still up chatting. This didn't match my impression of the room and when I told her so and shared what I had seen, she told me I had to keep going through that room and into another. Quickly, I finished breakfast and headed back to see what else there was. This time, I let myself into the first room, and walked straight through it to another door I had not noticed before labeled "library". Letting myself into this room, I saw before me shelves of non-fiction books along with moveable shelves to my right and while they looked very interesting and I figured the old ones were on the moveable shelves, I was still dissapointed. What I saw and experienced was not what I had heard about. So much for great libraries.
But then as I looked around, I spotted yet another door. Pushing on the door handle, I walked through and finally saw what everyone had been talking about. From floor to ceiling were locked book cases with glass fronts and behind them were shelves and shelves of extremely old looking books, book after book after book after book. Looking down at a sign on a table in front of them, I read, "All books published before 1800 are now on restricted access. Please ask library staff for help." It took me one second flat to realize where the books published after 1800 (!) would be. Sure, enough, turning to my left were high shelves full of both old and new books and eagerly, I ran to these and started scanning titles. Freely, I pulled off and perused books from years such as 1818 and 1826, people's journals and periodicals, records, and theological thoughts about the goodness of God in a world with so much trouble and pain. There were early Quaker documents, people I had never heard of, a whole library full! The glories of reading were open for all.
As I walked back through the rooms of the library that day, I thought about how similar this is with our experiences of God. We hear about a God who is loving beyond end, who wants to spend our daily lives with us, and how he will renew the whole of creation, glory beyond measure We hear of wonders and miracles and joy and peace and love and those sound fantastic so we decide to explore this God of which we hear and go to church or pray. We pick up a book or write a book, we go hear a speaker and start speaking ourselves. We look for God in the flowers, in the smell of freshly mown grass, among the bricks and motar of the world. And we come up dissapointed. We do not see the God of which we hear. Some walk out, some stay in the room trying to make the best of the situation, make the best of a dissapointment we don't even admit to.
But then we sit down to breakfast one morning, or talk to a friend and they tell us of their experiences with a God we do not know. A God we have hoped for, but have never seen or touched ourselves. We have heard whispers but have never known where to look, caught glimpses but never knew where to run. But we give it a go, we decide to go back to what we have known and look again. And this time we see a door. Do we dare to walk through it? Do we dare to leave what we have known behind and see what is on the other side? Yes, we dare! Turning the handle, we step into a whole new view of the Lord we thought we had known, new vistas are opened, new horizons before us yet this is still not the God we have heard of so we, having learned our lesson in the first room, look aroumd and explore, searching for yet another door. Then there it is and we walk boldly before it in great reverence suspecting what is beyond.
Grasping the door knob in our hands, we slide it open and are immediaetly in awe of what we find beyond. Everything we have heard of is true. Everything we have longed for is there. And God is there, full glory, eternal majesty, with our favorite cup of tea wanting to be personal, to talk, to listen, to walk the road with us, to show us this whole new creation. Wisdom of the ages at our fingertips, love beyond measure around us. It's all true, it's all solid, and there is so, so much more.
We are all in such rooms. We are all looking, searching, even if we have come to uneasy terms with dissapointment. We suspect there is something more to God and this world. We suspect there is deeper love and healing and we know that where we are at is not it. And we are right. The rooms we are in are not it and here is where the metaphor breaks down. There is no final room. There is no place we finally get to lay down in and say we have seen it all. There is only door after door after glorious door. This doesn't mean, however, we need to go right from one room into another. It is okay to stop and take a look around, to pull some of the books off the shelf, find a chair, and open them up. The shelves are a gift. The books, the writings, they are to guide us as we walk through these rooms, words to teach us and let us know there are doors beyond and when we learn from them, we are better able to see the door into the next room.
I have walked through many doors in my life and it comstantly amazes me when I find yet another one waiting for me to open up and walk through. Some doors I am searching for and some are given me. Some I find in great surprise and others are pointed out. Sometimes it is a book I've read, or a place I have seen, but they are always there one after another, calling me to keep looking, keep knowing, and keep growing. It's a beautiful garden that fills your soul with peace, it's the song of the birds, or tears of a new realization. It's the love of a friend, so deep, resonating in the very core of your heart that you look at God and think, this must a part of what your love is like. We think we know. We think we understand. Then something comes along that brushes our hand and haunts us, telling us there is more. Do we stop? Do we dare to look beyond? Do we open the door?
Do I? Do you?Labels: Europe 2011, God, Images of God