A while back I was out at a birthday party of a friend at a new watering hole in town having a grand ole’ time when I was reminded that I had a rock for a pillow.
Not literally, because going out to a bar and using a rock to sleep on is what we call vagrancy...wait...that’s not an apt cross-analogy to use anymore in Austin. It would be silly. Because nobody does that unless you get lost in the woods on a camping trip in Yosemite gone awry because your buddy decided to get a selfie with a couple cubs and you had to ditch your packs to outrun mama.
We had been there for a few hours at that point in the evening and were kicking back drinks, making fast friends with strangers and having a night to remember. The dimmed lights cast soft shadows on the patio where we ate up farm several tables, swapping seats periodically to get another round or share stories with someone across the way. The music was so on point that night it made you want to get up and start dancing in the courtyard where the lounge seating was—the kind of beat which makes your bob your head and inside go yes, this is the JAM!
It was whimsical and fraught with laughter and yet, in the middle of this beautiful evening unfolding around us, my particular seat was abysmal. After sitting on this rigid edge where two tables met, knees jammed into the metal rods coming up to form the base, I was straight up miserable. My back ached to the point where the call of my luxurious bed was reaching a fever pitch, my legs were cramped worse than after a ride on a redeye Frontier flight...it was taking a lot away from seeing and sharing in the goodness happening me.
That’s when it hit me. I had a rock for a pillow.
When I say I had a rock for a pillow what I mean is that I was reminded of a passage in scripture which was a mirror for what I was experiencing in that moment.
Way back in the first book of Genesis the author writes about the story of this guy named Jacob who, when we catch up to him in this story, has just left on a journey away from his home and family into the unknown.
“Then Jacob departed from Beersheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and spent the night there, because the sun had set; and he took one of the stones of the place and put it under his head, and lay down in that place.”
Sidebar: I’ve always thought Beersheba would be a great name for a craft beer pub. Think Near East vibe with hookah and belly dancers meets Western hipsters with handlebar mustaches recommending sours. Also, say the word Haran out loud a few times.
Haran. Haraaaaan. Fun word, yeah? Anyway, where were we...
Jacob rolls out and at some point in his journey toward the end of a day he ends up…*somewhere*...which back in that age would have been *nowhere*, but unlike our buddy in Yosemite he doesn’t have pack full of camping gear and a self-inflating pillow. So this story essentially kicks up with Jacob grabbing a random rock and trying to get some shut eye at the end of a long day of travel, out in the open wilderness.
Put yourself in his shoes. He’s been travelling all day, probably a good way into his journey far away from the comforts of home. Removed from the amenities of the dwelling he would have enjoyed in his father’s encampment, away from the relief of a cozy fire, fresh foods or the touch of a loved one. He’s out here on his own without any real sense of what lies in front of him or what’s next, and he grabs this random fluffier-than-the-others looking rock and lays down to get some shut eye.
If you’ve never slept with an actual rock for a pillow, I don’t recommend it. I had a bad habit of forgetting to pack a pillow when we’d go camping as kids, and there’s no better way to wake up with a headache and day-long case of bed hair.
He finally gets to sleep and has this wild, vivid dream in which he has a deeply personal encounter with God and as a result re-shapes his entire outlook on life. There’s a ton to unpack just from the dream section of the story, but for today we’ll skip over that bit. Jacob then wakes up and says something which is what popped into my mind that night at the bar.
“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”
Before he closes his eyes the world is one way. He’s tired, hungry, probably quite cold and lonely and definitely worn out. And, as icing on the cake, he has to use this #@$*%& rock to even hope to get any shut eye. But when he wakes up he sees the world around him as being something entirely different than what it was before. The wool is pulled back from his eyes and he realizes, wait...God’s been here working this whole time.
It’s this profound realization that things aren’t the way he thought they were, this isn’t an ordinary place or a normal moment, but there is a lot more going on right in front of him. This is a sacred place; a one-of-a-kind moment in which the divine is moving to do something new.
I didn’t have any fantastic dreams that night, but my own stone pillow stuck in my side just enough to pull me out of the casual moment I was having and into a glimpse of the beauty happening around me. To see a bit of the Holy in the Mundane. And instead of going home early and turning in, I stayed out and revelled in what I saw and gained a lot of joy and perspective as a result.
This short tale wraps up with:
“He was afraid and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’ So Jacob rose early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up as a pillar and poured oil on its top. He called the name of that place Bethel.”
Bethel, for those who frequent Archaic Trivia Night, translates into A Holy Place.
The simple is revealed to have so much more going on just beneath the surface.
What was an ordinary night is shown to be filled with so much more.
A rock isn’t a nuisance to bear but becomes a marker for change.
Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.
So this week, if you find yourself having to use a rock for a pillow, I hope you let the discomfort it brings pull you into a new moment. A moment where you are able to see the things God has been doing around you the entire time.