Love and Maintenance

By Randall Smith. But first a note from Robert Royal: Thanks to all of you who contributed so generously to our mid-year funding campaign. With what we've received and the donations that we expect are still to come, we're well situated to continue our work over the rest of the year. It's not a small matter when a large group of people like the TCT audience comes together to do good. It's something we need more of, much more, both in the Church and in our societies generally. Again, thanks. We're conscious of the trust you've placed in us and will do our utmost to live up to it - every day. Now for today's column... I once attended a lecture on urbanism in which the presenter showed pictures of a new development in Germany. It consisted of a group of the usual modernist glass and steel boxes jammed together like a pile of children's blocks, the kind you see in chic suburban neighborhoods around the world. There was nothing surprising - that is to say, traditional - like a pleasing Roman arch, but each house sported a little windmill to produce "green" energy. The houses weren't my thing, but they weren't horrible. And there were nice walkways through the woods around a nearby lake. The places were probably pretty pricey. After the talk, I saw a man I knew from the coffee shop across the street, an old Democratic party functionary with whom I had interesting conversations about Houston politics. I asked him what he thought about the place, and as was his custom, he got right to the essentials. "I wonder what the maintenance on that place is going to be like?" he said. "How long before those little windmills are all broken?" He taught me an important lesson. When you build something or buy something, you need to think about maintenance. It's all bright and shiny when it's new. But everything decays. Things break. Parts wear out. I'm not sure time heals all wounds, but it certainly takes a toll on material things. And when that happens - and it always does - you need someone who can fix it. Building something new is one thing. But if it's going to last, you need people who can maintain it. Now when I see a huge windmill in a field, I wonder, "How are they going to get up there and fix that huge blade?" When I see electric vehicles, I wonder: "How do you fix that big, one-ton battery, and where do you put it when it wears out, since it's filled with some of the most toxic chemicals on earth?" When I see buildings, I wonder whether it is "curtain wall" construction because I know that water gets between the seams. And every time I look at a Frank Gehry building, I see the rust coming and leaks at every odd joint. All this is in addition to the frustration I experience every time I go into a room with "automatic" lights and walk in the dark waving my arms around trying to get the lights to come on like a castaway on a desert island trying to signal a ship. Or when I put my hands under one of those "automatic" faucets and the water only comes out after I've pulled my hands away or not at all. I think, "Who installed these not realizing that they would have to be constantly maintained?" There's an old joke about a pious woman who sees a man working away in his garden and says to him: "That's a lovely garden you and God have there." To which the man replies: "You should have seen it last year when God was doing it by Himself." "We plant, but God gives the growth" is a common saying. That's true, but God "gives growth" a lot, and not just to the things we plant. I'm always amazed when I see a parking lot that hasn't been used in a while filled with weeds that have sprouted up through the blacktop. People with lovely gardens have God to thank for the flowers and trees and bushes. And the weeds? Well, they come from Him too. God's funny that way. Things worthwhile are rarely just easy. God works, sometimes with us and sometimes without us. But we work best when we cooperate with Him, when we let God work in and through us. We must take ...