I was reading a new book about the construction of the Pyramids at Giza. They are the only remaining wonders of the ancient world. The book was written by Craig Smith, who was chief architect and project manager for a Northern California mass transit project. The author, like me, is fascinated with the construction of the pyramids. They are still an engineering marvel. They were built during the fourth dynasty, and the Great Pyramid for four thousand years stood as the tallest man-made structure on earth at 146.6 meters. The Egyptians did it without wheels or pulleys. They did it with crude instruments, but with mathematical genius. Rising in an angle of 51.6 degrees they are almost perfectly aligned with true north without benefit of a compass.
The Great Pyramid was built to prepare Khufu for what Egyptians believed to be the after-life and is a testament to a complex evolution of religious ideas, myths and traditions. The Egyptians invented the 365 day calendar based on the movement of the sun and was divided into twelve months of 30 days each with five days added on at the end of the year. Their year began when the star Sirius first appeared on the horizon in conjunction with the Inundation or flooding of the Nile. The Pyramids were enormous both physically and intellectually and spoke also of the largeness of man’s soul and his search for meaning.
Just as I was caught up in the scope of the book and the enormous task of building the pyramids, a microscopic red-spider mite crawled out of the book binding and walked across the page, oblivious to my presence. It was a tiny living thing, living in a book. It was so tiny that it could easily fit in the space in the letter “a” in the word “space.” How much like man, oblivious to God.
This little creature had no idea it was walking across hieroglyphics and black lines which were letters making up words and sentences. It had no idea where it was or where it was going. It had no idea what a book was, or what went into the making a book, let alone what a pyramid was. Compared to the Pyramid of Giza, with its genius which has endured for generations, what was this mite? It had no idea it was so little or that the universe was so big.
Somehow, while I believe I know some things about myself, where I am, and where I’m going, this little mite made me pause to think about how little we humans really are and how little we really know. Like the builder of the Pyramids, we know so much and yet know so little. Yes, in the pyramid of things, we are so much larger than a mite, but compared to the things God has prepared for those who love Him- we cannot begin to imagine, nor has it entered into the heart of man what, in Christ he may one day be. We walk across the pages of today, too small to appreciate what God has written, or to fully grasp what it will mean one day to meet the All-Mighty One who is the Word Himself.