The Revelation, The Rivers, The Re-creation
The gates of the fortress were tightly barricaded
I stood outside
pounding and shouting
but I knew no one
was coming to open them
I crumpled into the dust outside the walls
sitting there for
days, weeks, years
hopelessly wishing to
find a way in
Believing that surely I could scale the heights
or pry open the way I
once knew
As emptiness filled the passing time
I felt like an
outcast, a leper,
begging for some
morsel of sustenance
To somehow temper the hunger and ache
in my belly and in my
heart
Winds of desolation howled in my mind
Storms of grief assaulted my soul
producing a
disorientation and despair
previously unknown
There in the hell of this dark night
I released a primal
cry to the heavens
Suddenly in the shadowland came a strong
but gentle whisper,
first to my spirit, “Peace!”
then to the storms
and winds, “Be still!”
An abrupt calm swept over me, around me
and just as swiftly,
I fell into a deep sleep
I have no idea the length of my slumber
but I was awakened by
sweet sounds of birds singing
with a gentle breeze
on my cheek
a bright sun and the
scent of lavender in the air
On the ground beside me lay a pilgrim’s staff
a water flask, a wine
flask, and fresh unleavened bread
The same gentle voice, whispered once again
“Arise and eat, it’s time to go on from this place.”
“And go where, Lord?”
“Arise, go on, it will unfold.”
I took the bread, broke it, blessed it, and ate.
its heavenly taste
was beyond description
I sipped the wine and felt life and joy flowing within
I drank deeply the water
a most refreshing
sweetness in every swallow
Before me now appeared an endless trail
I took the staff and
journeyed on
Days and weeks passed, I continued to wander
often coming upon
other pilgrims
who would all tell me
of storms, heartaches
and hearing the
same voice
They would all convey that they had heard of a City
where flowed in its
midst the River of Life
I thought, “This must the Way that I’m walking.”
Losing track of time, I simply kept moving on
Pausing at a brook for a drink
I came upon a gray
haired pilgrim
whose appearance was
younger than her years
There was a keen light still in her eyes
but it was apparent
that her journey
had been long and
lonely
“Good day Pilgrim, are you alone?” I asked
“Unfortunately, my companion died years ago,
but I have gotten
used to my own company.”
“Mine still lives, but what we shared is no more;
may I join you for a while?”
she consented, so we
tread on together
Conversation came freely, easily
rapidly, common
threads and dreams emerging
The Way went ever on, and jointly we continued
both keenly aware of
some growing connection
More than mere attraction, a deep bond began to form
both struggling with
the idea of divine providence
Then unexpectedly the Way took a sharp course change
not so much a fork
but the trail moved along a cliff
A sign along the path read “The Safe Route”
but another sign at
cliff’s edge read
“Leap of Faith,
River of Love”
With very little hesitation, we looked at each other
smiled, nodded and
stepped over the precipice
After quite a drop we plunged deeply into the river
a cold, rapidly moving stream
Rising to the surface we
held on to each other
caught our breath
and rode the current
The exhilarating ride went on for some time
with us floating, clinging,
laughing
Until we began to hear the roar, with little warning
we rushed over a
waterfall and careened down
Deep down into the river
where we could not
hold our breath
Still there was no fear, and that small voice came again
“Drink deeply and find true life, true love,
for life is not you
in the river, but the river in you.”
Stillness and peace washed over us
as we stood hand in
hand, breathing living water
walking on the river
bed in a crystal clear flow
The River of Love was indeed the River of Life
and most assuredly,
the River was the Way
and the lonely
pilgrims were now companions, lovers
That which had been before the plunge was no more
a new day had
dawned, a new thing created
The River washed out old wounds, pains and sorrows
new life, new love, a
new making all flowed in
The pilgrims knew that the One, the still small voice
had rescued them,
joined them, re-created them
Gratitude flooded their hearts, praise rose up
as they committed to
ever worship Him
and to always
love each other
mark. d. cooke
