June 17, 2002
CYBERCOLUMN:
A trip down the river
___By John Duncan
___I'm sitting here under the old oak tree, musing about the winding river.
___ I rode a canoe down the Brazos River one Saturday morning. We dropped the canoe near Lake Whitney and floated downstream. "You got a north wind, which is pretty unusual for this time of year," the canoe rental executive informed us. "Enjoy your ride, and remember the bridge is your stopping point," he added.
___ My cruise down the Brazos delighted my soul. The wind pushed us forward. The water was at a good height so that my canoe partner, Harold, and I did not have to exit the canoe and wade the water but one time. The sun shone high on that day. The blue sky formed a backdrop. The hues of green from the trees and grass painted the whole scene a panoramic wonder of color and joy. I am reminded that writer John Graves once described the rapids of the Brazos in "Goodbye to a River" as having voices, "Baptistly, poundingly, this one (rapid) was singing 'Beulah Land.'" On this day, the Brazos was the "Land of the Beautiful." Can rivers sing? Do they sing like Baptists?
John Duncan
___ The rapids sang, and a cardinal with its red bib chirped along. A deer flashed in front of our canoe, darting gracefully across a shallow part of the river while gently splashing water. A raccoon swam the river and dashed up an embankment, disappearing as fast as he appeared. Buzzards, in one spot, hovered and marked their prey as they caught the currents of the wind before diving for dinner. A cow mooed in the distance. Was a cow dinner?
___ Some of the other guys in our canoe caravan fished, but mostly, our canoe just cruised along. At one place, I wished I would have brought a fishing pole because a 12-inch fish swam beneath our canoe. Soon another big one leaped out of the water. I'll call that fish "the big one that got away!" Every fishermen needs a fishing story. Or in the words of John Graves, "In angling, as in reading, suspense is a quality worth having." For a brief moment, I wished for the suspense.
___ Along the river, you could see car tires and junk just below the water's surface. Trash drifted here and there. It's amazing what you can find in the river: coke cans, candy wrappers, plastic bags, T-shirts and an endless array of discarded mess floated along, pushed by the wind. Trees whipped by the wind, snapped like pretzels at a picnic, lay on the sides. Navigation around the fallen trees provided adventurous moments. Life is a journey, and sometimes all you can do is hang on and glide the currents.
___ The sounds echoed down the stream with usÑbirds singing, the rapids in chorus, tree limbs cracking, leaves whistling in the wind, the oar from the canoe splashing the water; and a little chatter from two men passing the time with talk, but, mostly, solitude. Ah, solitude, in the words of Henri Nouwen, "The careful balance between silence and words, withdrawal and involvement, distance and closeness, solitude and community forms the basis of the Christian life and should therefore be subject of our most personal attention. Let us therefore look somewhat closer, first at our life in action, and then at our life in solitude." Have you ever looked at your life in solitude? Listened for it?
___ Ah, the sounds of solitude on the river. That old canoe cruiser John Graves says of the river's sounds and the crackling of logs on a fire by the riverside, "That gets to be one of the river's symphonic sounds, like owls and the gurgle of snag-thwarted water and the eternal cries of herons and the chug of tractors in unseen bottom fields." The river played in symphony on this day!
___ Near the end of our journey, we drifted and ate lunch. Harold had a sandwich, and I ate my ham and cheese one with some chips and freshly bottled water and two Oreo cookies. Lunch on the Brazos sounds upscale, but it was really quite simple.
___ All this river-riding got me to musing about Jesus. Have you ever stopped to consider how many times Jesus talks about fishing and water? Oh, the smell of those fishermen!
___Oh, the tumultuous turn of rivers and waters in their streams and currents! Oh, all that talk of water that never runs dry and springs of gushers that bubble until eternity!
___ The Psalmist put it this way,
___ There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
___ The holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.
___ God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved,
___ God shall help her, just at the break of dawn (Psalm 46:4-5).
___ John the beloved apostle of Jesus saw a river in a vision, "And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and the Lamb" (Revelation 22:1).
___ So, here I am under the old oak tree, reminded of a river whose streams makes glad God's city; a crystal-clear river that sparkles with life. I am glad. I long for a river clear like crystal where Jesus dwells. Yet all I can think of is solitude, "Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10).
___ John Duncan is pastor of Lakeside Baptist Church in Granbury, Texas, and the writer of numerous articles in various journals and magazines.
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