Dearest Rachel –
It’s not the most well-known of Bible stories, but I’m sure that you remember Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of the great statue made of many materials in the second chapter of the book of Daniel; with the head of gold, chest of silver, midsection of bronze, legs of iron, and the original “feet of clay” (although technically, the clay and iron were mixed together in the dream, which would be considerably more unstable, since I don’t know how those two could even combine). There’s a lot going on in this story, including the fact that the king refused to tell the details of the dream to his wise men, in order to test whether they really were as wise as they claimed to be (not unlike our modern jokelore about how you never hear about psychics winning the lottery. You’d think that, if they were as skilled as they claimed to be, they’d dominate that landscape, after all).
There’s also a lot of ink spilled as to what kingdoms are represented by each section of the statue – apart, of course, from the head of gold, which Daniel explicitly spells out as being that of his liege Nebuchadnezzar. Most Biblical scholars tie the statue in with some of Daniel’s own later visions, declaring that they correspond to the beasts he sees later on in the book. The prevailing wisdom is that, in succession, there is Persia, Greece and Rome, followed by a certain amount of debate about the feet of iron and clay… perhaps a revived Roman Empire of sorts? We tend to assume this last one hasn’t shown up yet, which is weird, since many an empire has risen and fallen since the days of Rome; do none of them merit the Lord’s notice? If not, why not? Why were these ancient nations so important, and the ones that have dominated the landscape since apparently been of little consequence?
In fairness, that’s probably the wrong approach to take; no nation is of consequence in the grand scheme of things. Even the question of why the nations that were represented in the statue were so included isn’t particularly worth pursuing; most of them have long since come and gone, blown away by the winds of time. There might be interest in what the feet represent, if only because they are yet to arrive on the scene (we assume) – as has been said, we are all interested in the future, since we will be spending the rest of our lives there. At the same time, we already know that those feet represent an absurdly unstable empire, hardly worth considering as important, save for the knowledge that they will be destroyed…
…by the most overlooked item in the whole dream, despite the fact that it literally looms over the entire scene by the time everything is said and done: the stone that comes from nowhere, strikes the statue at its base, and turns the whole of it to powder in a single blow, at which point, the resulting dust is scattered into nonexistence, while it proceeds to grow until it fills the entirety of the earth.
Now, I realize that I might be thinking about this because of getting into your study about the book, but it will be more than a month before I see what you had to say about her discussion of this chapter. I would venture to guess, however, that it won’t dwell very long on this rock. For all of its ultimate dominance of the scene, it doesn’t get much attention. We view the statue, showing the ebb and flow of history, with the rise and fall of empires, with interest, but what has humanity to do with this stone? It was cut from nowhere, using no human hands, and grows (what stone does that? Normally, stones are unchanging, or at the very least, they shrink from erosion) without any attention given to it. And as a result, we don’t give it the attention that we do to everything else here.
But here’s what struck me about this stone this morning; we all live in our own little worlds. We have our own statues inside us, competing for attention. Some of them are worthwhile, some of them less so, and could easily be considered to be counterparts to the various levels and metals that make up this image we have made of and for ourselves. But at some point, those of us that follow Him have let God break those statues, like the stone rolling downhill, and allowed Him to grow in our lives.
Only in our cases, we have to let this happen; God won’t smash our statues unless we let Him. Moreover, the stone He sends to do so, while it’s meant to grow and “fill the earth,” can be inhibited by us within our own little worlds, it would seem.
I say this because I wonder if I’ve allowed my stone to grow sufficiently. It has its place in my world, no doubt, but it hasn’t grown to the point where it dominates it by any means. Moreover, I can still find more than a few shards of pottery, a pile or two of gold or silver dust, and an abundance of iron and bronze rebar throughout the landscape of my life; it hasn’t been scattered to the point where the stone is all there is. Am I falling down on the job of growing my stone? Or do I simply need to get out of the way, and let it grow on its own? I honestly don’t know, honey.
All I do know is that I’m not where I should be. And while I realize that, as long as I’m down here on earth, that will always be the case, it still bothers me to know this, even as I admit that I don’t even know that I want it to be the only thing in my life – at least, not yet (at least I have St. Augustine to keep me company in that sentiment, I suppose).
In any event, as I puzzle my way through these thoughts, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 