It is a building masterpiece. Not on the order of a Frank Lloyd Wright
masterpiece, but a weekend carpenters masterpiece.
And it is creative.
It is a building masterpiece. Not on the order of a Frank Lloyd Wright
masterpiece, but a weekend carpenters masterpiece.
And it is creative.
Several years ago, a storm twisted the top of the tallest tree in the neighborhood.
The residents upon whose land the tree stood were saddened by the loss of this
financial asset as well as the grandeur such a tree provides.
The tree removal crew cut the top off and carefully removed it from the yard.
The tree still towers above most others in the neighborhood.
Around the tree, about five feet above the ground, the residents built a deck.
Then, some 8 feet above that deck, they built another deck a nice deck.
Maybe it is like when a family loses a dog, they get a puppy to replace it.
Maybe the residents tried to replace the emotional security of having the tallest
tree with a unique deck. They could no longer give directions by saying, “Ours
is the house with the tallest tree.” So maybe they wanted to say, “It
is the house with the unique decks around what used to be the tallest tree.”
Or, maybe they built them for the kids. Or maybe they just did it. Whatever,
they are there.
In a few weeks, ladders stretched from the upper deck some 12 feet upward to
where the tree surgeon had performed the amputation.
Ropes were lowered from the person perched on the top of the ladder to helpers
on the ground. The ground workers tied boards already cut to predetermined shapes
and lengths onto the end of the rope and the sky worker pulled them up and nailed
them in place.
Then more boards, and then more.
A crows nest kind of deck emerged. An aluminum ladder, apparently firmly
affixed to the upper deck to the further upper deck, reaches from the deck to
the crows nest.
The former tallest tree now holds what is certainly the highest deck, not just
in the neighborhood but most neighborhoods. The Guinness folks may be on the
way to check out as we speak.
The project took weeks, or at least a lot of weekends. Considering the cost
of the three boards I bought last week to repair my fence, the folks sunk some
bucks into the project, too.
So now, they have a dream deck, or crows nest, or tree house, or their
private really upper room, or whatever it is, because it could be any one of
these or all of these.
This masterpiece stands beside a street I drive several times a week. Each
time, I expect to see an 18th Century sailor standing on the uppermost deck,
scrutinizing through a brass telescope the landscape for approaching storms
or enemy ships. I expect to hear him bellowing to earthbound creatures below,
“Ahoy, mate, pirate ship approaching at three oclock.” If that
is the purpose of the structure, it works great because we have not seen a pirate
ship in these parts since it was built.
If not the sailor, at least someone. But since the project has been completed,
my eyes have seen not a single person utilizing any of its many assets. Not
a child, not an adult . . . notta. Well, I did see a cat, but thats it.
Building is often more exciting than sitting around on or in what has been
built. I guarantee you that is true with a spiritual church. The idea of church
is to build a church, not sit around and enjoy a completed church. If a congregation
ever thinks their church is “built” or completed, it stops being a
church, and the excitement associated with it goes right out the well-constructed
back door. The Church of Christ is a building crew, not residents of something
someone thinks is just what it ought to be. If a church stops being a work in
progress, it turns into something other than a church, and acts less like its
Master.
I wonder if I stopped this afternoon, and asked those folks to let me climb
to the top of their crows nest, if they would then let me bellow down,
“Ahoy, mate. Pirates approaching …”
