River of Life

Before you can see it, you can hear it. That soothing, consistent burbling song of a stream. Then you can feel it, as the gentle breeze coming off the mountain stream breaths cool refreshment on a warm day. You can see the effects it has, the environment it fosters as greenery thickens and trees thrive. And when it comes into view you can't help but pause and enjoy it for a moment, the way the water shifts in color from green to grey to white as it splashes down and plays in the light.

If I was to compare life to a river, I think this little stream flowing down the side of a small mountain out on the west side of Tokyo would be a decent comparison for many of us. Not that we're always cool and a refreshment to all around us (as much as I would love to say we are...), but rather that it's absolutely full of rocks.

Unyielding rocks that force the water around and above and seem to simply be in the way of what could have been a smooth and effortless journey. They are no more than unnecessary obstacles. Not to mention green with algae and slippery in places.

However... a stream without rocks wouldn't be as beautiful, would it? And I for one have never heard a rockless stream burble. If you pave it down for a smooth and effortless journey you are left not with a lovely mountain stream, but a utilitarian drainage ditch.

It's hard to see individual rocks in our lives as beautiful though. Whatever the rocks - bumps in the road, closed doors, illness, or hardships - may be, I am prone to view them as unnecessary obstacles in my stream. (Why?? Why this rock, why my stream, why now?) 

Mountain streams remind me to step back and remember the big picture. They remind me that rocks are not a test to see if you'll put your head down and white-knuckle through; not a chance to prove what you're made of. Yes, perseverance and hard work is often called for. But not often by looking down. Rather, it is a call to look around and above as you press on with a joyful burble. And to trust that it's part of, or turning into, or even already is (to someone) something beautiful. 

This may be a small and insignificant stream. But even so, even the smallest of streams can point to and dream of the True River of Life.

"...the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations."