Some years ago Denalyn and I went on a tour of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The tower was built between 1887 and 1889 and acted as the entrance arch for the Exposition Universelle in 1889, which marked the centennial of the French Revolution. The tower was supposed to stand for only twenty years, but it became a valuable communication tool and has remained as an unmistakable element of the Paris skyline (especially as buildings in the city cannot surpass seven stories). During the German occupation of Paris in World War II, the lift cables were cut, forcing German soldiers to climb the stairs to the top to hoist the swastika. Within hours of the liberation of Paris, the lifts were back in working order.
It is a fascinating iconic structure, and Denalyn and I joined the throng to explore it. Some tourists wore headphones that provided a self-paced tour. Others followed guides and listened at different junctures. Others did not have headphones and did not have a tour guide. They mistakenly assumed they could answer all their questions on their own. That was me. I soon regretted not having the assistance of a headset or tour guide. I had more questions than I had answers. How long did it take to build? Who had the idea to build it? Why this location? Has the building ever been struck by lightning?
Denalyn didn’t know. I didn’t know. But the guides knew. So I’ll confess. I eavesdropped. I loitered on the outskirts of a group and inclined my ear to pick up bits and pieces of the spiel. I learned about the construction time. I learned about the height. What I did not hear was this invitation: “Would any of you like to get to know the designer?” or “Could I interest anyone in a relationship with the architect?” or “The man behind this structure is interested in telling you more in person. Any volunteers?”
Such offers were never made. Why? The designer is dead, for one thing. He no longer inhabits the earth. But even if Gustave Eiffel were still alive, what are the odds that he would make himself available to me? To receive inquiries? To personally entertain questions? No, we cannot know the designer of the Eiffel Tower.
But we can know the designer of the Grand Canyon, the human eye, and the Milky Way galaxy. The architect of the best-known structure in Paris is dead, buried, and unavailable. But the One who furrowed the Hudson Canyon in the seabed of the Atlantic Ocean is not. The creator of the French monument can no longer speak, but the creator of Mount Everest is alive and well. And he invites us to know him.
We cannot emphasize this enough. God wants us to know him!
“Let not the wise boast in their wisdom, nor the mighty in their strength, nor the rich in their wealth. Whoever boasts must boast in this: that he understands and knows Me” (Jer. 9:23–24 THE VOICE).
It is impossible to know the meaning of life if we do not know the Maker of life. And the Maker of life is willing to be our teacher. Jesus came as our guide. He reveals wisdom and truth. We can know, not just facts about God, but his heart, his joy, his passion, his plan, and his sorrows. We are not left alone with our wanderings and wonderings. We have a teacher. His name is Jesus.