In Andover, a market town in England where I once served, and referred to myself as ‘the Minister from Down Under And Over’, the church was built of flint.
Flint is a scavenger’s stone, with dark, jagged nodules pulled from the mud. To make them fit, they have to be "knapped": struck until they break open, revealing a shimmering, glass-like interior.

John Wesley once rode to that very church in Andover and wrote an entry in his journal: “last night I preached to six dead stones.” It was a haunting image of a community that had lost its pulse. But Wesley would have prayed for breath to return to those stones, and by the time I served there centuries later, I can vouch for a thriving, worshipping community—flint that had been struck and found its passion for the good news of Jesus .

This is the "living stone" Peter writes about. It’s the opposite of the loose gravel in our church carpark. Gravel is noisy, disconnected, and unstable; it’s a collection of individuals just rolling around in the dust.

To move from being "dead stones" or "loose gravel" into a living house, we must align ourselves with Christ, our Cornerstone. He is the anchor that determines the direction of the wall. Without Him, we feel like a pile of rubble.

In our Australian life, we often pride ourselves on a "rugged" ‘she’ll be right mate’ independence, but there is a profound loneliness in being a smooth, isolated stone. The beauty of that flint church was that the jagged edges of one stone locked into the gaps of the next. Our "rough edges", our scars and our vulnerabilities, are exactly what allow us to hold onto one another.

As we gather around Jesus the Cornerstone, we are being "knapped" and placed. We are continuing to be built into the home where previous "living stones" have gone before us, and we continue to be a living, breathing sanctuary with Jesus at the heart. A place where all who long to belong, with care and respect are welcome.

Blessings — Rev. Carmel Sheraton