Swift as a River

"...vapor hung, straining against the heat of a new day, slowly dissipating as the river rolled in small swells below. Frost clung to the smooth rocks on the bank. My nostrils burned. Vibrant colored leaved fluttered above. Out in the river, water thigh high eddying between his legs, Andreas flung his line into a well shaded pool near the rivers edge. A docile nook rested from the tumult of a surging river beneath over hanging foliage. A rotted stump whose woody entrails pertruded out of russet colored sod and clay, dipped into the water. He stood still, poised, hand on reel. I had cast my line nearly half an hour ago. The neon-pink bobber oscillated with each roll of the swift river. It stood out sharply against the palid water, white with minerals. My pole stood propped between two large rocks just below me, close enough to snatch in a moment. I watched the end twitch like a hyper active reflex. My thoughts wandered onto my kids. I pulled my watch out of the tackle box: 7:56 am. "Julian would love it out here", i mused, picturing his raven hair flitting in the light breeze, a grin stretching his lips taut against his small ivory teeth. The surrounding hills reflected the morning light. It resembled the copper coins that sat just below the rushing water of the fountain in the grotto, flickering metalic green upon tarnished orange.
A small tumbler sat on our coffee table, the ice half melted into the whisky, condensation formed on its sides; my forehead. The Kolingaards - Andreas and Becky- had been over for several hours now, the kids tucked into bed long ago. My head rung with drowsiness and liquor; the incessant talking of our wives resonated like rocks in a can. "6 am then?" Andreas asked across from me, sunk into our sofa. His long wirey legs bent akwardly, knees open with hands plopped between, clutching his tumbler anxiously. Raising my eyebrows I nodded. "Lets go Becky, we have an early morning, Micky and I. He'd called me Micky for years. It was affectionate, I understood, yet still hated the sound of it when itr rolled off his dutch tongue. Becky gestured to collect the dirty plates, yellow grease dribbled in long streaks against the white porcelean. "Oh Becky, please. Miguel and I will grab that. You two go now." My jaded, skeptical mind spoke: No one offers expecting to be taken up on it. She knew we'd excuse her anyways.
That night in bed, Marie in a semi-coma from exhaustion, I laid, mind on elusive Brook trout, Dolly Varden, Brown, Kokanie, Rainbow. These worked upstream against the current of my mind, just below lucid waters. Deeper, some layers beneath, a more elusive breed swam, the ones I really wanted to land, see, handle. My gut churned. Ive applied for so many jobs now, not one bite. Like fishing, finding a job was a matter of appropriate bait and skill linked with timing and location. This move was proving more difficult than I expected. There just werent any bites..."

Beneath the Locust Tree

...Making my way back to the path I continued forward. The sun now stood at a degree where it covered all the land unhindered. It warmed my face and back. Sweat formed on my neck and under my chin, biting when the wind would press its self upon the moisture. Entering back into the woods, now on the other side of the meadow, the forest changed dramatically. Mostly deciduous trees now, with white papery bark of birch and the moldy green rigid surface of locust trees, dripping dew from throny branches. Bony arms weaved together upwards creating a translucent tapestry with strata of yellow and lime green leaves. Long branches that outstretched from thin gnarly trunks bore beards of heavy dank moss, oddly shaped fungi in drab tawny, brick-red, and mauve clung to their woody waists. The stream bounced over fallen trees, zig-zagging in and out of open spaces, ebbing against clay walls, lapping at low hanging branches. This forest seemed more alive, an energy filled the air. My legs picked up naturally with the atmosphere, now in a jolly gait. The smell was fresh, like mint, and balmy on the skin. The path had widened now into a road. Grass grew in the middle, and on both sides, soppy dirt gave beneath my sneakers, squishing loudly.
A small hill rose before me, my mind on other things, on Jerry, his bubbling voice, the odd initials on the tree, that tire. What about that tire? What children swung on it? As I continued along, at once my body reacted to something. I stopped. All the muscles in my face cramped, my legs stiffened almost sending me full lam into the mud.

TAK…CHOCK…CHOCK…TAK…KACHUNK.

The noise berated my head, echoing, almost knocking me over. The sound came from just over the hill. I stood. Silent. My heart raced, my eyes watered and mouth drying fast.

CHOK…TAK….TAK…

I knew that sound. It pained me somehow. Chopping wood all day, all summer.

The Compelling Majesty of His Power

"The love of Christ compels us..." (2 Corinthians 5:14)

Paul said that he was overpowered, subdued, and held as in vise by "the love of Christ." Very few of us really know what it means to be held in the grip of the love of God. We tend so often to be controlled simply by our own experience. The one thing that gripped and held Paul, to the exclusion of everything else, was the love of God. "The love of Christ compels us..." When you hear that coming from the life of a man or woman it is unmistakable. You will know that the Spirit of God is completely unhindered in that person's life.
When we are born again by the Spirit of God, our testimony is based soley on what God has done for us, and rightly so. But that will change and be removed forever once you "receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you..." (Acts 1:8). Only then will you begin to realize what Jesus can do--that is basic and understood--but "witness to me..." We will accept everything that happens as if it were happening to Him, whether we receive praise or blame, persecution or reward. No one is able to take this stand for Jesus Christ who is not totally complelled by themajesty of His power. It is the only thing that matters, and yet it is strange that it's the last thing we as Christian workers realize. Paul said that he was gripped by the love of God and that is why he acted as he did. People could perceive hi as mad or sane--he did not care. There was only one thing he lived for--to persuade people of the coming judgment of God and to tell them of "the love of Christ." This total surrender to "the love of Christ" 'is the only thing that will bear fruit in your life. And it will always leave the mark of God's holiness and His power, never drawing attention to your personal holiness.
~Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

I Naomi ask myself, is it the love of Christ that motivates my every action, my every thought, every word I speak to my husband, to my friends, to those I don't know, every breath I take, how I spend my time, my money?...am I so compelled by Christ's love for me and for humanity that I can't get enought of Him, that I am in His Word daily, that I speak of Jesus and His mighty deeds every chance I get? So much that my heart, like Jesus', breaks at the thought that my next door neighbor, or the man on the street corner begging for money or food may not know the peace of God and his love and forgiveness? Am I any different? No, I am not. Only that Jesus' righteousness is what covers my black heart of sin. The love of Christ compels me...Jesus may it be so.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you...

"...saying, 'This is the way, walk in it,' when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left."

Isaiah 30:21

"Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jeaslousy and selfish-ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. But wisdowm from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace...Come now, you who say, 'today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit' - yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say 'if the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that'. As it is, you boast in your arogance. All such boasting is evil."

James 3:13-18, 4:13-17.