He hears us
Two and a half years ago I went on a trip with my daughter and her homeschool group to France. We spent the bulk of our time in Paris visiting museums, Notre Dame, and of course the Eiffel Tower. One place many of the kids were excited to see was the Paris Catacombs. The catacombs were built in the late 1700’s in response to safety concerns at some of the cemeteries in central Paris. Over time, the bones of more than six million people were transferred to abandoned limestone quarries under the city streets. In 1810, Héricart de Thury took over the development of the ossuary and had the bones artistically placed and arranged according to medieval tradition. Signs were placed throughout to indicate from which cemetery the bones had originally been buried.
In preparing for this trip, I did a lot of personal research on things I wanted to see and pictures I wanted to capture. I did not research or prepare for this place because honestly, it didn’t really interest me. I remember many of the kids being so excited for this tour because they wanted see all the bones. While I would have traded time at the catacombs for more time in a museum like the Louvre, I understood that in a group, we needed to try and see things that would appeal to everyone’s interests. I did not understand the history of this place and had no frame of reference for what I was about to experience.
This sign was at the entrance to the tunnel. It reads, “Stop, this is death’s empire!” As I passed under it I remember the thought going through my mind that it sounded like a greeting you might hear on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. After about another 20 feet, I knew that this was definitely not Disneyland. I simply was not prepared for what I saw. Skulls and femur bones were stacked and lined up in artful arrangements to form walls that came up to my shoulders, and in some places higher than that, on either side of me. Behind those “walls” were piles and piles of more bones. The ossuary is nearly a mile long. The longer I walked, the heavier the air felt to me. My steps grew slower and slower and I quickly found myself at the back of the group quietly weeping.
My daughter noticed the change in my mood and face and asked what was wrong. I told her that I just felt overwhelmed by the amount of bones and death that surrounded me. As the group disappeared around the next corner, she just stood with me in silence. All of those bones represented people with souls. They had names, grew up, held jobs, laughed with friends, ate meals with loved ones, and celebrated holidays. Some of them fell in love and raised families. An excerpt from my journal entry that day reads, “I just couldn’t help but think…What were their lives like? Did they know Jesus? I thought about the fragility of humanity and how fleeting life is. I thought about how all of those bodies were stacked there over decades’ worth of time, and Hitler killed the same amount of people in a few short years, and a fresh wave of grief rolled over me as I began to visually understand the sheer magnitude of what happened in World War 2.”
As I rounded a corner, I saw this sign which says, “The eyes of God are fixed on the just, and His ears are open to their prayers.” I took comfort in that. He is a relational God who sees His children and hears their cries. As I was pondering this, I continued forward and found myself at a door. I opened it and was immediately met with a brightly lit room with music and the hustle and bustle of a crowd. I just stood there in the gift shop with my brain spinning, as I looked around at racks of garish post cards, skull pens, and scarves with bones printed on them. Death was being peddled and people were excitedly shopping and scooping up their treasures. I found the whole thing disorienting and distasteful, so I left and sat on a bench outside and waited for the group to regather.
We live in interesting times. 2020 has been a year that we will not soon forget for a multitude of reasons. 2 Timothy 2:1-4 says, “First of all, then, I urge that entreaties and prayers, petitions and thanksgivings, be made on behalf of all men, for kings and all who are in authority, in order that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and dignity. This is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” I share my experience in the Paris catacombs as a reminder that life is fragile. We are called to be salt and light, and as the world becomes increasingly darker and more distasteful, may we remember that each life we encounter has a soul that is precious to the Lord. As children of God, we need to pray for our leaders as well as the people in our immediate circle of influence, regardless of their political viewpoint or opinion on how best to handle the virus, that they would come to the knowledge of the truth.
“And this is the confidence which we have before Him, that, if we ask anything according to his will, He hears us.” (1 John 5:14)
