The Island

Imagine we live on an island in a sparkling sea with thousands of other islands.  God lives on the most lush island in the center of the sea.  His house is on the loftiest mountain.  He longs for people from every island to come and worship him.  The people from each island eat different foods, speak different languages, listen to different music, and wear different clothes. Before we were born someone from another island came and built a bridge for us, connecting our island to God’s island.  We urge everyone on our island to use the bridge.  Some ignore our message; others still haven’t heard it, so we keep telling it.

But some of us stream across the bridge adorned in our native dress, beating our native drums, and lavishing praise on God in our native tongue.  God closes his eyes, smiles, and basks in the glow of our worship.

God tells us he dreams of hosting a Grand Pageant of Worship one day on his mountain, with people from every island sounding praises each in their own dialect and costume and native music.  But then God turns, a great wind drains the sky of clouds, and He stares out to sea.  Our eyes follow his gaze.

    We drop our instruments and catch our breath.  The air is still.  As far as the eye can see in every direction, sits one silent bridge-less island after another.  Each one cut off from access to God.  God tells us, “I have decreed that islands like yours with bridge-building technology help show those islands that don’t have it how to build bridges.  Before you were born someone did it for you.  Now you must go help other cultures build their bridges.”

    Those people without a bridge don’t need to move to another island.  They don’t need to leave behind their language, family, food, music, roots, and name to worship God.  But they do deserve a chance to have their own bridge, to know God in their own native tongue and culture. And God deserves their unique native worship.