The Rivers Edge

As I sat at dawn at the rivers edge; the roses in the cleft of a rock were exposed by the sun, and the thorns beneath grew dim in the shadows. I was drawn to the beauty of the roses and to the frameless sky. As I began to write- I was interrupted by those passing by.

They appealed to theology and philosophy, and the prowess of intellect: Explaining “why” the sky was blue. “Why” the water flowed in this direction. “Why” the roses had thorns: “To remind us the world is fallen,” they said.

They spent much time explaining many things- until the sun arched over the mountain- and my view turned dim; and my eyes leaned again to see the thorns beneath the roses.

I would have rather spent the day with God's beautiful sky than be lectured from the passers by about the why's of life and their quest to frame it's categories.

An angel, as it were—unawares: Sat beside me and whispered:

“Did you know the heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows His handiwork. Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night shows knowledge. The is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard. Their line is gone out through all the earth, and the their words to the end of the world. In them He has set a tabernacle for the sun?”

“Yes, I said. “But those who seek for wisdom and knowledge seem to overthink the world.” They would rather spend all their time to “explain” the sun than to feel it's warmth.”

My friend whispered: “That's because they've forgotten that it's simplicity that makes the world profound, and have left their first love.” “That what matters most is loving and knowing God—not our endless attempts to explain His mysteries.”

“They have forgotten the words of Ecclesiastes, that “God has made everything beautiful in its time? And has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom the work that God has done from the beginning to end.”

“There is a place for wisdom and knowledge, but for some, the deeper things are at the rivers edge: A place for frameless things. Things not framed with the enticing words of men's wisdom in Synods and Councils; but where you're haunted by waters: where your soul yearns for God like the deer yearns for running streams.”

“You'll get a glimpse of Nature's God if you open your eyes. You can hear Him if you listen for His voice. Let the rivers edge draw you. It is not knowing “why” the waters edge draws you that matters: Only that it does.”

“Too many will focus on the quest for knowledge and the pride of intellect—Not realizing that God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the wise.”

“In the early dawn is where intellect leaves the rational realm and you enter the world of enchantment: A world where Plato and Augustine seem dull, and you're drawn to Tennyson and Milton. Browning and Eliot: And to the Psalmist.

“For the greatest love poem: “How Do I Love Thee,” was not penned in an ivory tower, but in Browning's quite place: With a bird on the window seal; in the mist of the morning.”