River Running

Twenty summers ago, I learned that trusting God starts with floating in a man-made lake.

Face up, my sky was never the same again. The sun shone warmly on me, and the stars became my friends.

The dam soon broke and I was free. It has since been a river voyage: whitewater, swirling eddies, steady streams, deep pools and the occasional cascade. With each turbulence came storm-eyes of peace, and with each waterfall came a brighter rainbow. And always, always, there was a blessed Wind blowing me on , and steady shores to steer my course.

In time, silt and rubbish tinged my stream brown: sins, memories, flaws and wounds. And then He began to dredge.

Ask me what dredging does to a river, and I will say that the water becomes purer, and the river deeper. But first the muck has to come out. You don’t want to be there when it’s dredged — it’s ugly, smelly, and foul.

Some years ago, someone gave me a poem entitled “Scarred People Are Beautiful.” I chucked it into my drawer, never thinking that it applied to me. I never saw myself as wounded or hurting. But I was. The sunlight kept me from hiding my bruises. So God gently put His finger in my festering cuts, stanched the bleeding, and began to heal me. And in the process He began to teach me some course-changing lessons, too.

I learned to cut ties with people and things who led me away from Him. Detours and shortcuts, dead-ends and sidestreams. But I also learned gentleness and compassion, having received them myself. I was freer to love people and touch their lives. I became more able to see God in them, and I prayed that they, too, saw His reflection in me.

I learned not to fight the breath of the Spirit as I flowed, but to let it move me as it willed. I learned to wait on Him when I was tempted to flow by my own will at my own pace. I learned to calmly drift instead of digging other routes. I learned to hang on when strong tides tested my grasp.

I learned to abandon myself to Him completely — past, present and future — and to trust Him daily for my life. I learned that love is not in asking, “Where are You taking me?”, but in saying, “I’m so glad You’re with me.” As I learned to bask in His presence, I found that the adventure is more exciting, and the scenery more breathtaking, when I let Him lead me by the hand.
I learned that I was made to be immersed in Him, to lose myself, and to find myself, in Him. That as the river seeks the sea, so my heart shall seek Him.

I learned to let God love me for who I am, and to love myself the way He made me. I learned that I don’t have to first please Him before He loves me. I learned to seek His pleasure, not to earn His love, but for love of Him.

Twenty years of dredge-lessons, and He’s not even halfway through with me yet. Blessed be God Who loves me the way I am, but loves me enough to not leave me the way I am.

And yes, there have been rocks in my riverbed. Without them, my stream would be dull and dreary. No splashes, no ripples, no fun. Other streams and rivers have come my way, some running alongside me, a brave few uniting their currents with mine.

My river, like all others, seeks the Sea. And here is the story of that quest, punctuated by many stops and cesspools, a story of falls, rocks, grassy banks, silt, erosion and tides.

My river’s run into several forks in the past, and there are so many I have yet to face. But He has been faithful in showing me the right route thus far, so I think I’ll keep on trusting Him.

I wonder where the next bend takes me.