By some twist of unexpected circumstances, I find myself seated along the scenic Rhine River in south-eastern Germany. It’s a moody, cloudy day, perfect for a cup of coffee and a quiet rendezvous with my Bible and trusty laptop.
As much as I had intended to use the entirety of my free time reading and writing, my eyes are drawn involuntarily to the swirling rush of blue-green water and I marvel, not for the first time, at the history this “Amazon of Switzerland” has seen.
From forming the boundary between Gaul and Germania in the Roman period, to it’s significant role in smuggling both people and goods in and out of neutral Switzerland during WWII, this river flows on, undaunted by the generations of changes wrought along it’s banks.
Timeless, yet ever changing.
On the far side of the Rhine, lies the Old Town of Rheinfelden, Switzerland, a well-preserved slice of medieval history. People live in these picturesque houses tucked up against each other like so many bosom friends, their squat doors opening onto cramped, winding cobblestone streets. Light spills from open shop doors and the laughter of children trickles out of windows bordered by red geraniums. Women come and go, caring for families and cooking dinner in the early evening.
Most of this town dates back to 1110 AD, but it is still entirely functional. It is a tourist hot spot, yet to many people strolling through its streets, it is home.
This town is a merging of old and new. Ancient architecture, remains carefully preserved even while its interior is updated to meet modern standards.
Timeless, yet ever changing.
I deeply appreciate the preservation of history and this is no exception. I love tradition and the cultures that have formed around traditions. My soul connects with the solemnity of stately hymns and Christian practices that have stood the test of time and the heat of persecution.
Something deep within most of us craves the promise of longevity. A place to belong, a community of people, a safe place to raise our children.
Longevity is born of preserving the traditions of our past, carried down from generation to generation. Some of these traditions are whimsical reminders of family lineage. Like my Grandma’s pumpkin custard pie. Ask any of my cousins and they will tell you there’s nothing quite like it. We know because our mothers used the same recipe and passed it on to us, their daughters.
Some traditions hold more value than others. For instance, Christian traditions of non-resistance, communion, moderate lifestyles and helping the poor, all contributed to the longevity of the church throughout the course of history. Yet we cannot for a moment forget that longevity does not produce holiness. Many churches began well, and were built on sturdy, Biblical foundations, but they have failed to keep their spiritual houses updated throughout the years. They have fixated on preserving what one can see with the eyes and not on a living relationship with Jesus Christ. They are structurally sound, but empty within because longevity has become their god.
They are timeless, yet apathetic and barren.
Does this mean the old traditions must be torn down and history be obliterated? Certainly not! Jesus told Peter in Matthew 16, “Upon this rock, I will build my church and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” We are given a sure foundation in Christ, and if the things we have been taught are built on this Rock of Truth, we hinder our own spiritual growth by disregarding the traditions of faith handed down by godly men and women before us.
Is it not the height of arrogance to assume that I, in my generation understand the Scriptures better than generations of faithful saints before me? Perhaps like the houses I strolled past in the quaint town of Rheinfelden, we need an updating: renewing Christian values and Biblical traditions rather than disregarding them. Would it not behoove us to look into the interior of our own hearts and judge whether the light and glory of Jesus is spilling out the doors and windows of our own souls?
Wisdom builds upon the well-preserved foundations of Scripture and Biblical tradition, not because longevity is our god, but because we are wise enough to know that not everything needs to be rebuilt from scratch in every generation.
Timeless, yet ever open to truth.
Yesterday I stood at the gravestone of a 4th century woman named Eusstata. According to archaeological legend, it is assumed that Eusstata was a Christian. I wondered who she was. Did she live through the last great persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire, decreed by Diocletian? Was she one of the many thousands who died rather than deny her Lord?
Was she old enough to rejoice with all Christendom when, six days before dying of throat cancer, Augustus Galerius grudgingly issued a decree that terminated persecution? Did she pray for the emperor when he implored the Christians to pray for his healing?
I won’t ever know the answers to these questions. Still, I paused to thank God for the faithful Christians who lived and died defending the Gospel. Christians who loved our Saviour and who dedicated themselves to preserving and propagating the beautiful message of Jesus Christ. Christians who built on solid foundations and valued traditions that aligned with God’s heart.
Timeless, yet ever-changing into the image of Jesus.
I want to stand among the faithful in the annals of history, preserving the traditions of faith and doing my part to practice and preach the glorious, life-changing gospel of Jesus Christ.
Christ who alone is both timeless and unchanging.
This article was originally published in the “Preservation” issue of Commonplace, a publication for Christian women. Find this article and much more by clicking on the link below.
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