When I was a kid, I made a small boat out of scrap wood, twigs, and any kind of nails I could find. It resembled a floating bird’s nest more than any kind of seafaring vessel.
Then I sat down at the kitchen table in our small farmhouse and I wrote a note about God, why he was generally a very nice person and someone you could trust. I doubt the note made much sense. But my theology then was probably far more accurate than it is today, now that my views have been clouded by pain and injustice, hypocrisy and inexplicable tragedy.
There was something easy and straightforward about God then, so much so that I could sum it all up in a one-page letter which I eventually taped to the bird’s-nest vessel I had created. I walked to the creek, gingerly carrying that purveyor of truth. I leaned out over the bank, just beyond the small dam the neighbor boy and I had built with rocks and chunks of earth, and I released the boat into the water.
I sat on the bank and watched it bob up and down on the glaring waves. I flipped over a rock or two, hoping to find a crayfish, but then I remembered I hadn’t brought anything in which to put them.
* * * * *
I think we’re all like that when we talk about God. We have our own little messages that we wrap around our own imperfect vessels and then we tape them to keep out the water. We rarely look upstream to see what messages are being sent to us; no, we sit on the bank and watch our own well-sealed words drift and pitch with the waves and the current.
And while God could have been found in the letter that young boy wrote, he also could have been found in the trees leaning over the creek or the clouds drifting in the mirror alongside the boat. He could have been found in the fishing hole or the open field. He could have been found in the care the young boy took to build the boat, or the random way the waves directed the small craft around the bend.
There are the written, deliberate messages. But there is also so much more.
Hey Shawn,
Growing up in the countryside of VA was a place that I always felt God’s presence. As I read this post it brought a smile to my face and a warmness to my heart. I did not make a commitment to God until later in life, but I remember that time of innocence that seemed full of something bigger, something good. I use to play in the mountains and valleys starting at the age of 6 or 7 for hours without a care or worry because I felt there was something there that was protecting me. Now years later I look at life and God so different. I miss watching the sun glisten off the waves of a stream but I most miss that time of innocence and the way God interacted with me because of my openness to His presence ( even thought I did not understand Him theologically)
Good stuff Shawn – I am reminded of so many times when I take an afternoon to get out on my motorcycle – coming to rest in the midst of being surrounded by motion – it doesn’t exactly make sense but it somehow connects me with God in a powerful way. I was struck earlier this week by how much the sound of the fast moving water in the stream below connected with me – there was God again – communicating and making himself known to me. Keep up the good work -I appreciate the way that you share your heart – I hope your journey is unlocking things as you go. Enjoy the ride
This is a really inllteigent way to answer the question.
WOW, those were the days, SIMPLE FAITH; EASY ANSWERS. I remember reading about “coming as a child”.