The River

We three friends walked single file forging a new slender path meandering through hip high yellow-green grass. We walked silently, each too busy admiring our environment to talk. The area was brightly lit, although the sun was not hot nor was the breeze chilling. As we moved along I began to faintly hear the water moving. The sound was calming. Birds were flying overhead from one giant tree limb to another. We wound our path between the trees toward our destination.

I had never swum in a river before. This pristine place seemed like we had opened a door into the Wind in the Willows world and I expected to see little Ratty and Mole and Badger playing on the far bank. The tall grasses grew right up to the water in places. In other places bare rocks could be seen. We in our bathing suits were now giddy from the change in environment. City pavement and rows of buildings, traffic noises, and hurrying people were our daily experience. Here we were enveloped in peace in a kind of dreamy soft other-worldly beauty. It was a kind of thin place where one can more easliy interface with God.

Arriving at the river, I stepped into the water onto a large nearly-black rough rock. The cold water on my feet and ankles made me hunch my shoulders and shiver a little. So I stood there observing the water. It was white with reflection of the sky where it rushed thinly over rocks near the surface. In other places it was so clear that I could see every plant and rock beneath three feet of water. The current moved quickly, but not at a dangerous rushing pace. Water and long underwater grasses swayed together in their graceful water dance.

Some of the huge egg-shaped rocks at the bottom were covered with deep-green mossy vegetation, too slippery to stand on. So after taking a few steps deeper into the current, the best thing to do was submerge and grab hold of the long grasses to prevent myself from being swept downstream. The constant sound of water moving was a lullaby washing away all the worries, cares and memories of the hectic city. I stayed there for a long time floating on my back, holding hands with the river grass, eyes closed, listening. As the water flowed over me I felt as though I was melting into it, relaxing, becoming grateful that such a place even existed on this planet.

Had we seen Ratty and Mole and Badger, they would have waved and smiled with knowing faces that we had discovered their secret place of wonder where life flows as intended by the Creator. Kenneth Grahame describes Mole’s discovery of the river:

He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in his life had he seen a river before – this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied animal, chasing and chucking, gripping things with a gurgle and leaving then with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that shook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake and a-shiver – glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent form the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.” (Grahame, Kenneth. The Wind in the Willows. Puffin Books, Middlesex, England: 1983. Pages 8-9)

A spiritual place like this exists for our refuge. You can journey there in prayer. Time slows down there, but you must be willing to submerge and trust. It’s a river of love so deep and free flowing that it melts into you. It changes you. “Come and play,” beckons the water. It’s a place of harmony, understanding, peace, excitement, rejuvenation and joy.

In another place at another time I stood holding a soft white towel as women came one by one to dip their hands in a wooden bowl of water. Lights had been dimmed and soothing worship music enhanced the air. Palm sized river rocks lovingly placed in the bottom of the large bowls and covered with water simulated a soothing river. Single file, conference attendees meandered to the front of the line where they would be refreshed in the flowing river of God’s love.

Cathee and Fran, ministers of the day, prayed for each one who placed hands in the water. The Spirit eagerly waited upstream. As I watched the faces of the women in line waiting for prayer, I began to pray in my heart for them. Their gentle hands submerged: baptism of trust. Faith flowed.

Suddenly I felt as though I was in that faraway river again. It was more like a river of understanding this time, a knowing that God cared deeply about what was transpiring. The sensation so surprised me that tears began flowing down my cheeks. I was witnessing a supernatural event: God meeting, loving, listening and soothing his people. I gently dried each pair of hands as I prayed hoping I was sealing the scent of the event into the soul of each woman.