The Cedar Pillars Above the Springs

The highlands rise like roughly hewn mortar and stone against the morning light around 1000 b.c. in the ancient Near East. A traveler standing on these high terraces feels a profound safety in the sheer weight of the physical earth. Here the bedrock forms an unyielding floor, and the vast expanse of the sky stretches overhead like an immense vaulted ceiling built by a careful architect. Dew settles heavily on the tall timbers of Lebanon, dripping from branches that measure dozens of feet across and sinking deep into the porous limestone.

The Creator constructs his upper chambers upon the waters, binding the fluid rainclouds together as structural beams for his sky. When he moves, the physical world reacts to his heavy steps. The wind acts as his courier, and sudden bolts of lightning serve as his laborers to execute his blueprints. He laid the deep foundations of the earth with such precision that it will never shift from its anchored base. Once deep waters covered the tallest peaks like a heavy tarp, but at his direct command the oceans fled, rushing down the carved channels into the valleys below to settle exactly where he drew the boundary lines.

We walk through this massive estate every day, often forgetting the immense scale of the stonework. Man leaves his clay brick house at dawn to work the fields, laboring for bread, wine, and olive oil to sustain his physical frame until the sun sinks below the carved horizon. During the dark hours the forest awakens. Young lions emerge from the heavy timber, demanding their meat from the one who provisions the entire compound. From the tiniest badger hiding in the fractured rocks to the massive sea creatures churning the ocean floor miles away, every living organism waits for his open hand. He scatters grain and moisture across the dirt, and the inhabitants gather their daily rations.

A heavy cedar trunk stands as a living pillar on the mountain ridge, its roots anchored deep within the limestone foundation. A sturdy structure stands secure only when the architect remembers the weight of the roof. We observe his breath settling over the dirt, raising fresh grass from the dust to feed the heavy cattle. The sheer magnitude of his ongoing construction leaves the observer staring upward at the vast sky.

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