Rivers and Overpasses

I’m an extrovert.  I hate being by myself, and over the last 2 weeks, living all alone for the first time has underlined that for me in many instances.  At the same time though, it’s been the best thing for me.  I’m absolutely free from any distractions, and have been spending a ton of time working on my relationship with God—something that I wrongly put in lower priority than my academics for quite a while.  Today I went for a walk with my journal and ended up by a river under an overpass close to my house.  I sat there for about an hour, praying and writing, and as the words came to me (loooong after the feelings #Fproblems), I started thinking (again, in a delayed reaction to feeling)—I’m sure this isn’t just for me.  I know I’m not the only person who speeds over overpasses, or spends hours in front of the computer on beautiful sunny days, or puts God in a box when I want him to do the work he’s going to do in me on my agenda and on my time, thinking that it’s somehow better than his.

So, this happened under the overpass:

God, I love you.  Thank you for being here with me.  I feel you in the warmth of the sunshine and hear you in the rushing water.  It seems to be moving so slowly where it pools, but as soon as it hits the rocks and thins out, it rushes.  I feel like that’s how you’ve been working in me, God.  Right now, when it seems like nothing’s happening, the work that you’re doing feels slow—sometimes like nothing is being done at all.  Then, when the pressure’s on, I get to see how worth it the wait was, as I joyfully tumble over the rapids to a peaceful other side for more refining and preparation for more obstacles.

Young rivers flow straight—fast and furious, and shallow.  Older ones cut deep and curve, taking more time to enjoy the view before arriving at the freedom of a larger body of water.

Life goes on above the overpass.  Cars speed by, stopping at nothing to be on time for appointments, school, and work.  I wonder how many pass over every day, not even knowing of the existence of this beautiful source as they clock in at 20 over the limit, speeding home to catch the start of the latest episode of some trashy TV show.

I know I’m that person—so self-absorbed that I fail to notice your beautiful creation all around me.  I know you want to change that, God, but I want it to be straight, to-the-point, and fast like the young river, and you want me to grow deeper, and show me more of who you are along the way.  Help me to put my own agenda aside, Lord, and like any river, go only where and as fast as you will lead me.