They are easily ignored, existing as they do, everywhere. On every corner, between every corner, across your backyard, spanning the countryside in great strides and short hops. They are old, cracked, faded, somewhat rotten. They are new and sticky and solid. They are steel and aluminum and wood. They perform their work silently, impassively. You don’t notice their presence unless you bump into them or they fail under great duress.
And yet, for all their self-deprecation, they are known. A record is kept of their existence, of their location. Someone, somewhere, keeps track. The numbers and letters embossed in metal or peeled and stuck on metal plates are listed in a book or spreadsheet or ledger somewhere.
These power poles or light posts or whatever they are called, are known. There are numbers on each of them, often bearing the name of whatever the company was called before the merger. It is important in time of crisis to know exactly where the post is and what it is connected to, what lines it carries across the neighborhood.
In looking at these numbers, I realized that if something like a pole has an identification, wouldn’t it be cool if every person were known by an identifier unique to her or to him? Wouldn’t it be comforting to know that in time of crisis, someone knew where we could be found? Wouldn’t it be ….
David talked about that, in a blog post or poem or psalm.
You know me inside and out,you know every bone in my body;You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Psalms 139:15 The Message (MSG) Copyright © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.
People matter, not as groups, not as markets, not as amorphous gatherings but as uniquely identified individuals. We get so busy using what they produce, taking for granted what they carry.
But they matter.
Just look for the signs.
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