Descent From the Clouds

Montreat North Carolina 6-16-9


Blowing Rock is equally as splendid on the front edge of the day as it is when the sun has fled into the night after its long transit across the cerulean sky of day. How marvelous it is to awaken in a cozy bed in a fine old knotty pine bedroom with a fireplace. How much better one sleeps when a place is reminiscent of a safe refuge from childhood. I can’t recall the last time I slept in a place that suited me so well.

Fortified with a rare sleep, I emerged to join the others for breakfast at the Village Inn. The Village Inn is one of those destination places that actually exists in a waking reality - a fine old house with odd gables, small narrow stair cases, and big fireplaces; located at the end of a pedestrian alleyway in a verdant garden of all manner of very happy plants. I’m used to eateries being in non-descript metal butler buildings set in a sea of molten asphalt, not fine old buildings with floral balconies set in lush gardens. We spent at least as much time having a group botanical lesson from the restaurant owner as we did sitting inside to eat her excellent fare. Even a fine precocious cat presented itself at the end of the alleyway.

Following our morning repast the group did its part for the local economy by injecting negotiable instruments into the coffers of assorted gift merchants and candy purveyors. While the group was helping the local economy I made a splendid connection with Steve, the owner of a shop that sells the work of overseas artisans who are attempting to extract themselves from deadening poverty by creating their beautiful works of art for sale in islands of prosperity such as Blowing Rock. Steve sees his work with his shop as a ministry and not just an entrepreneurial pursuit. He believes the Kingdom of God is made manifest in what we do for others. He made it clear that nothing is more satisfying in life than being able to have a conscious contact with God’s presence. We agreed to work on the feasibility of placing the work of our Haitian artisans in his shop, that those living in the poorest country in the western hemisphere might get a taste of the Kingdom for themselves. So many of the philosophical tenets of the development work in Cange are similar to what I sense about Blowing Rock - not mere coincidence, given the way God has made Himself evident the past two days.

I recall having been in some truly magnificent small towns over the years and invariably found a tap root of faith and devotion running through generations of citizens living in them. I wonder if this might be the case here as well. There is a serenity and graciousness here that is quite remarkable and manifests itself strongly in the physical and social environments of Blowing Rock as it did in places like Gaylord, Michigan or small rural enclaves in western Pennsylvania.

At midday we left this gentle oasis in the lush mountains and followed the emerald ribbon of the Blue Ridge Parkway for a season. We ended up in Little Switzerland for cooling ice cream before making the descent out of the clouds into what promised to be Dante’s Inferno. In the space of ten miles the temperature went from 67 to 84 with an equal increase in humidity. It would get yet hotter later in the day.

An easy drive of one hour brought us to a different kind of oasis, one where the innocence of youth is preserved for four more years before the realities of the working world and growing up take over these young lives. At Montreat College we found more than one thousand high school youth participating in a residential summer program. Their innocence and vitality was energizing and inspiring to those of us living in the autumn or winters of our lives. Many of the students were in clusters about campus participating in assorted workshop and encounter experiences. By osmosis, I felt a bit younger.

A magnificent chapel was built in 1998 as a fortieth wedding anniversary gift by an architect from Charlotte. The donor commissioned a large fresco by Ben Long, depicting the return of the prodigal son as described in Luke’s gospel. This splendid large mountain gothic chapel was built to showcase the finished work. A number of times I have sat mute before this grand image and allowed my thoughts to free associate. As grand as the plastered image is, even more compelling is the love letter the donor wrote to his wife when he gifted the 200 seat chapel to the college in her name. The letter cast in bronze and placed on the south wall of the sanctuary is a profound memorial to beauty of the very highest order.

A large multi-level building by the lake houses a variety of artisan shops, bookstores, and eateries. This splendid facility feels like something Frank Lloyd Wright would have designed. The resplendent mountain environment with lakes and waterfalls is the ornamentation for the building. For reasons unknown, one of the bookstores was giving away books. I found several of these that may prove quite useful in some of my work. In an artisan shop I was again able to engage in conversation about bringing Haitian work to another island of prosperity - that those in Haiti might find the Gospel message is for them as well. While in this conversation I enjoyed splendid red bush tea from Botswana - offered as a gift. The colorful ambience resulting from the aggregation of grand artwork from dozens of nations was a visual feast.

Having experienced creative beauty in some of its highest visual forms - stained glass, fresco, architecture, mosaic, ceramics, carefully tended gardens - and then in its ultimate relational forms - as manifested by the love of a man for his wife of decades, or a father awaiting the return of his wayward son, or by the presence of God’s Holy Spirit in an encounter with a shopkeeper or the cook in a Cuban diner - going back down the mountain into Dante’s Inferno was not so hard. I am told that Jesus has gone to prepare a room for me in the Father’s house. I am certain it will be at least as good as the one I had last night in the Homestead Inn and will have air conditioning, which won’t be needed. I will sleep well every night.

Craig Johnson