Thin Place

We had the good fortune to join David and Joy Sonju up at CAMP-of-the-WOODS in Speculator, NY last week. The camp offers the L.I.F.T. program to train young adult leaders. Check it out at http://www.camp-of-the-woods.org .

The group took an afternoon for snow-shoeing in the forest. Spectacular views in the white north country. The students celebrated the expansive horizon by striking a "grace pose" high on a hill: arms and head flung back, face tilted to the heavens. Wide open stance toward God and others. The silky winter light fell on their upturned faces. A thin place with God a mere breath away. Joni

The Painter

An artist friend refuses to paint sunrises or sunsets. Says they are clichés and overrated in the art world. Perhaps humans struggle to capture the view, but God succeeds with each dawn and twilight, reminding me of new mercies and horizons of possibilities. Wanted to send along a delight from the Garden Isle of Kauai. God playing with watercolors. Joni

Rainbow in the West Texas Sky

The Gorge and the Desert

Last week I joined my friend Garry Friesen and Michael, one of his Multnomah students, for a hike in the Columbia River Gorge. Waterfalls and streams appeared around every corner as we climbed the mossy trail. Garry strategically prompted Michael to ask me theological questions during the steepest parts of the hike, when we were all out of breath. We talked about the emerging church, biblical authority, Christianity and gender, and African missions. The scenery provided a fabulous backdrop for the conversation. It is hard to be disagreeable when hiking in the Gorge.

Two days later, hiking by myself in the rocky mountains north of Phoenix, I enjoyed solitude and magnificent desert vistas.

Neither place was prettier than the other, and the hike filled with theological conversation was no more — or less— spiritual than the solitary one. They were just different. Very different. And I was most grateful for both.

Bob

A Colorado Stream

Step One: Read the words of the psalmist: “They feast on the abundance your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.” (Psalm 34)

Step Two: Turn your laptop on its side and click Play.

Source of the Nile

After the Amahoro Gathering, our friend Ronald drove us to Jinja so we could see the source of the Nile. We had to do some hunting for the road, so we felt like intrepid explorers, revisiting the quest of John Hanning Speke and his rivals. They must not have seen the sign.Speke did not really discover the source of the Nile. The official source is now thought to be farther away, at the beginning of other rivers and streams that feed Lake Victoria. And he was obviously not the first to look over this spot--then, as now, fishing boats were scattered across the river. But he was the first to recognize this as the place where the longest river in the world begins its course from Lake Victoria to the Mediterranean. A little further downstream, we could see why they call this part of the river the White Nile.

Day after Day

"The heavens declare the glory of God," wrote the psalmist, "the sky displays his handiwork."

My thoughts quickly turn toward vast galaxies when I read those words--expansive images of countless stars and unending space. God is no doubt honored by the immensity and beauty of the universe, but the psalmist mentions something else, something I too easily take for granted. The created world speaks of God "day after day" and "night after night" as the sun continues in its regular course. And there was morning and there was evening, the zillionth day, this day that God has made.

Such regularity brings serenity and perspective. Our lives may be chaotic and unpredictable, but our days never are. They are as they have been and as they will be. The observation is no mere platitude. "Tomorrow's another day," said Scarlett. "The sun will come out tomorrow," sang Orphan Annie. Both hoped that the morning light would bring some new reality. But what if our expectation for tomorrow is instead that the cancer will have gained ground? What if our greatest hope would be to freeze time and prevent whatever comes next? The psalmist reminds us that the relentless character of life is also in God's hand. "Do it again," he commands, and the sunrise is the work of his hands.