As a youngster I lived in Germany where it seemed as if castles were planted on every hill. These fortresses of rock inspired images of kings and queens, knights in shining armor, lavish banquets, as well as drawbridges and moats to keep everyone inside safe. As an adult I formed a more realistic appraisal of how limiting those structures really were. They were moldy, dark, not as romantic as I remembered, and whatever décor was hanging on the walls was dark and smelly. They were impossible to heat in the winter and when under siege in the summer often ran out of food and drinking water.
Last night I ran across some photos of a trip we took to southern Arizona, as different from a German landscape as any place could be. It was a hot and dry desert, full of cactus, weeds, and very little water. And yet, we ran across, of all things, castle ruins on the hillside of a canyon overlooking a tiny little stream of water. Rather than a piles heavy carved rock, it was dug out of the side of a sandstone cliff. Instead of turrets, winding staircases and immense banquet rooms it contained narrow, tiny rooms sculpted from soft rock. Montezuma’s castle was home to people who wore blankets and loin cloths rather than armor, and accessible only by long wooden ladders. If they broke or were pulled down there was no rear entrance and no way in or out. They offered refuge and safety, but are difficult to escape when surrounded by enemies or disaster.
We continue in our own ways to build such structures as a personal defense, using not rock or stone but how we choose to control or limit others from getting too close to our insecurities and weaknesses. We often hide behind emotional or physical structures to keep others away or protect what we wish to hide. Similar to castles such barriers also can trap us inside and limit healing, love, and peace. As an example, grief is often more debilitating than we wish to admit, but our reluctance to do so can delay recovery and keep those who might be of assistance from allowing God to use them in our support. In other cases, lies can become a means of preventing others from knowing who we really are, but also isolate us when we need more assistance than we dare admit. None enjoy admitting our shortcomings, which is why our defenses grow so strong. But such a castle mentality also traps us inside a false reality which inhibits the healing of God’s love.
God understands the weakness behind our facades and loves us anyway, which is all we really need to know. All he asks is to trust his help in breaking down what can prevent our own healing as well as our ability to assist those around us. He forgives what we hesitate to admit, reaches out to heal where we are weak, and renews us daily as we grow into his gift of faith. A castle is always a castle, but God’s love becomes all the protection we need. He reaches into every life to break down such walls of isolation so we can join him and the rest of his creation in green pastures and still waters. Castle walls can be impenetrable but the cross of Jesus gives us unlimited access to what will never disappoint or fail us … ever.