Still Waters

I have just returned from two days canoeing the Kananaskis River on a canoe course. It was a fantastic experience with excellent leaders, amazing scenery and fast, rushing water. 

The first time that we launched I was in the bow (front) of the canoe with an instructor paddling behind me in the stern. I trusted the experience and wisdom of my teacher, but that did not completely alleviate the anxiety that arose as we were pulled into the turbulent current. All too quickly the shoreline dissolved into a blur as my focus was drawn to fumbling incompetently with my paddle. Tim (a leader) shouted instructions from behind: draw, hard, hard... now paddle, paddle, pry, and then, (forcefully) lean!

We had made it into an eddy, a place of calmer water lying downstream of some impediment in the stream such as a large rock or an outcropping of the shore. Once in an eddy, paddlers can rest while the stream continues its tireless cascade. 

Getting into and out of eddies takes skill and energy - at times the canoe is being paddled across the flow, precariously tilted with the gunnel a few inches above the thrashing water. It requires a high degree of trust between the stern and bow paddlers and a dunk into the drink provides the requisite experience upon which to build wisdom (I was not the recipient of such experience on this venture)!

When I arrived home late last night I was launched into another river - home and work life. The waters of life are at times deep, and the channel through which they flow is narrow. The needs of our families, friends and community, like the Kananaskis river, require energy and skill to navigate. Sometimes it all feels like it is flowing too fast and I fear that I will tumble over and be washed away by the current. At such times I am desperate for the safety and rest of an eddy.

The kids to soccer, baseball, dance; preparing supper, getting groceries, weeding the garden; repairs to a vehicle, renovations, helping a friend; career, job, school; family gatherings, social commitments, volunteering... the river is deep and there are rapids ahead with hidden rocks and a big log-jam at the bend and your arms feel like lead. Perhaps you know what I am referring to? 

We all need eddies - places where the current is slower and we can put our paddle down; a place of rest and renewal. You see, it's not that the river is a bad place to be. I am wildly passionate about the river of my life, the places it takes me and those with whom I share the current. There are times though when I just don't have the energy to keep up with the flow.

If your arms are getting tired of paddling, find an eddy. A cup of coffee in the middle of the day, a walk, a visit with a friend, a few days away - whatever it is that fills you. We may not be able to control the flow of the river, but we can choose when we step out to catch our breath. 

 I leave the last word to the Gospel of Mark:

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” (Mark 6.31)

Paddle hard, and lean, and let the current take you to quiet waters.

Pastor Bill

Today
pray
for
quiet

breathe

be
at rest

you
are in
God's
hands

[First published June 13, 2012]

Lesson for Living

“I don't think you should die until you're ready; 

until you've wrung out every last bit of living you can.”

 (Libba Bray, Going Bovine)

Anna (my wife) and I had a tree removed from our back yard this spring - a gorgeous, mature, perfect-for-shade and climbing tree. I'm not big on taking down trees, but this female green ash produced a million seeds each fall and every one of them was determined to sprout in our garden; we'd had it with the perpetual ash nursery. So we had some guys come in and take it down. Well, mostly down. We asked them to leave about nine feet of trunk - thought we'd do something artistic with it. So now we have this nine-foot-tall-ending-in-a-Y, slightly leaning skeleton of a tree standing at attention. 

The neighbor asked if I was hoping it would grow back - he thought we'd trimmed it a bit close. "Ha! No way!", I said. I sincerely hoped it was dead. We'll plant five more trees to pay the earth back for our frivolity, but this one needs to be done with its seed-producing life.

Joke's on me. Tree, it turns out, is a long way from dead. Leaves are sprouting out all over the place, their verdant foliage an all-to-obvious allusion to Biblical images of the stump of Jessie and new shoots from dead roots and all that. Thing is, I did not want it to send out new shoots - I wanted it to be done. Dead. Finito. 

Life, it would seem, has other plans.

Life is persistent. Just when you think that the last bit of it has ebbed away there is a gasp and a hesitant heartbeat, and another, and then an explosion of breath as life once again bursts into the world to proclaim to the universe - I am, I exist, I live. 

Flat-lines in the operating room that are suddenly, inexplicably not flat-lines anymore. A newborn animal left for dead that musters enough courage to call out and be nursed to life. A myriad of examples from humans to animals, from trees to vines to... to dreams, hopes and love. 

Is there something dieing in your life? Something that has its life energy seeping away? A relationship, a dream, a belief; the will to continue in an endeavor or in a  particular direction? There are times when we have to prune back to the trunk - branches, twigs, leaves - all of it. Or maybe life has done the pruning and we are left with our sap dripping out and the world seeming to take pleasure in the loss. 

But then we remember our roots. They go deep, they are our history and experiences, our wisdom - our love. Our roots are our faith and our strength. These roots tap into waters that are known only to us. Roots that delve, and find crevices, and cling to rock and draw goodness from loamy soil. We think that we are done - branches of our being torn away, hope sawn off at the trunk, but we have forgotten that the root survives.

In the darkest hour the sap flows from the roots bringing new life, renewal, and - can you believe it - new leaves. 

“After all, how often do we get a second chance?” (Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why) 

Our roots remind us that we are stronger than we think, more enduring than the challenge before us and, because of our roots, life surges to find expression once again through us. How often do we get a second chance? Our inner strength is the source of today's second chance. 

And in case we doubt our roots, doubt the great store of strength that is the deep waters of our being, let us not forget of what we are made. I leave the last word to Scripture, to remind us that we will withstand the storms, the breaking of branches, the tearing of leaves. 

There is nothing in this day that you cannot overcome - because...

God spoke: "Let us make human beings in our image,

 make them reflecting our nature (Genesis 1.26, The Message)

and 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.

 I do not give to you as the world gives. 

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14.27, NIV)

Grow new leaves; wring all that you can from this crazy, incredible, challenging life!

Pastor Bill

[First published June 6, 2012]

Editor's note:  My apologies for not keeping up with Wednesday's Wisdom in the past few months!  There were a few too many leave growing on the tree of my life and I had to get them pruned back a bit :)