Did you know there’s a difference between geology and gemology?

Geology (jee-ol-uh-jee)
the scientific study of earth. including its rock formation, evolutional landforms, and physical processes.

Gemology (jehm-ol-uh-jee)
the science of studying, cutting, and valuing precious stones.

Gemology, along with Mineralogy, Crystallography, and Petrology are the branches of Geology.

Now you know. But before you knew, you might have been tempted to shrug and say, “They’re all just looking at rocks, right?” You might have thoughtlessly substituted one type of study for the other in conversation. But a bold gemologist or a proud geologist probably would have corrected you.

Because a rock is just a rock–until it’s your rock.

Look at my rocks, Gigi!

My granddaughter recently enjoyed sifting through a bag of sand to find 15-20 carefully planted stones. Her parents paid the price and she responded with great enthusiasm. I oohed and aahed appropriately when she showed off her precious finds on Facetime. Her little brother’s joy in his rocks was a more subdued reflection of hers, but he was proud in his own way.

My mom sat beside me as I looked at each rock and exclaimed at its beauty. She loves rocks and excited children, so I thought she might enjoy the presentation. Sadly, dementia and her inability to process images and sounds on the phone limited her enjoyment.

“Does she know they’re just rocks?” she asked me She wasn’t quiet. She’s not always aware that the person on the other end of the phone line can hear her.

Later, after we exchanged our long goodbyes, waves, and long-distance hugs with the children, Mom moved on to other subjects. She was concerned that she hadn’t seen Kennetta in several days.

I reminded her that her friend was on vacation in Colorado.

“Oh, that’s right.” Her eyes sparkled with anticipated joy. “She’s bringing me a rock!”

My rocks matter

I can be like my mom. And I don’t have dementia as an excuse. My rock, even one I’m only anticipating, tends to matter a lot more to me than your rocks. I don’t always pay enough attention to reflect your joy or your burden when you show me your rocks.

We don’t always share the same concerns. We don’t always listen.

And y’all, our disinterest in each other’s rocks is a problem.

The Seuss ecological classic, The Lorax, tells a tragic story of selfish greed. A character called the Once-ler discovers the beauty of the Truffula trees. He immediately begins to chop them down and sell them. Another character, the Lorax tries to warn him to stop or, at least, to slow down. The Once-ler’s only response is to invent ways to harvest even more trees even faster. He keeps chopping and selling until all the Truffula trees are gone.

The devastated Once-ler recounts the Lorax’s quiet response:

“I’ll never forget the grim look on his face when he hoisted himself and took
leave of this place, through a hole in the smog, without leaving a trace. And all that the Lorax left here in this mess was a small pile of rocks, with one word… UNLESS. Whatever that meant, well, I just couldn’t guess.”

THE LORAX, by Dr. Seuss

The trees mattered to the Once-ler. He loved them. But he failed to heed the Once-ler when he tried to show him what lay ahead. That was the Once-ler’s burden, and he didn’t share it. In the end, they both lost the beloved trees and were left with only a pile of rocks. Unless we learn to listen, we’ll miss what matters to others. And we all lose.

Your rocks matter

I might not care quite as much about your rocks as you do. But I do care about you. I care enough about you to rejoice with you over the pair of tennis shoes you found on sale, the preschool success of your youngest grandchild, and the breakthrough expression of love your spouse gave you. I feel your joy, and it becomes my joy.

I may not fully understand the rocks that burden you. But I care about you and want to understand you better. I care enough to commiserate with your frustration with your boss, the ongoing landscaping feud with your neighbor, and your loneliness. I feel your sorrow, and it becomes my sorrow.

I rejoice when you or someone you love draws closer with Jesus. I grieve when you grapple with sin or your loved one walks away from faith.

Your oohs and aahs over my rocks matter

The Church is a community, a body, a family. God intends for us to care about each other’s rocks. He also intends for us to speak up when one of us is heedlessly cutting down trees.

Confession. I’ve been struggling to get out of bed lately. I’ve been sad, and no matter how many times I urged, insulted, or kicked myself, I couldn’t seem to snap out of it.

I made myself sick. But I didn’t mind. It was another excuse to stay home.

I have sisters who check on me regularly. I replied, “Fine” to more than one sincere inquiry into how I was.

I even spent an evening on the phone struggling along with a friend as she showed me her rocks. I believed every encouraging word I spoke to her. Then I went back to bed and stayed there through that night and half the next day. Actually, I didn’t have to go back to bed. I’d been under the covers when we talked. I just turned over.

This morning, my first alarm went off at 5:00 am. I pressed the snooze button, then dawdled and lolled through the second and third alarms. By the time I got up, I knew I would be thirty minutes late to Bible study.

“Just don’t go. Walking in late is rude. You’ll be disruptive,” the rocks in my head urged.

“Go,” the Holy Spirit prompted. I went.

The quiet promptings continued as I drove, “You need to tell them.”

Nope. No way. Not going to happen.

I was still coming up with excuses to stay silent as I arrived. Then, as it often does, our morning discussion created moment I knew was my irresistable invitation to share.

“I’m not okay,” I said.

My girls stopped everything to look at my rocks as I tearfully held them out for inspection. My sorrow became their sorrow. Their strength became my strength.

This is encouragement. This is community. This is the power of confession.

Come Alongside

I share this story reluctantly. My fear is that you’ll respond with pity, frustration, or disappointment in me. I mean, I watched Hallmark Movies. More than a few.

But please hear that it’s not about me. I’ve been encouraged. I share it with you because I know you’ve been there. In your own way. Your response to the rocks that overwhelm is probably different from mine. You may take action instead of than lying down. You may feel angry instead of being consumed by apathy. But I know you have rocks to share. I know it, because that’s who we are. We have rocks, and God put us in community to share them.

I’ve used these verses here before. They’re favorites of mine. They bear repeating.

If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together (1 Corinthians 12:26).

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God (Colossians 3:16).

But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin (Hebrews 3:13).

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself (Galatians 6:2-3).

So, will you come alongside me in this? Let’s practice some geology together. Maybe we’ll get to do some gemology, too.

Tell someone about a rock you’re holding. Let them rejoice with you, suffer with you, or come alongside you with a gem of wisdom and exhortation.

Ask someone about the rocks they’re holding. Rejoice with them. Suffer with them. With love and wisdom, help them discover the gems of teaching and admonishment among their rocks.

Sing together what you know to be true about Jesus. He’s the true Rock (you saw that coming, surely). Give thanks.

A rock is just a rock–until it’s your rock. A rock is just a rock–until it’s shared. That’s when we find the gems.

Traveling in Grace,

Christi