High in the crystalline air of the Andes mountains of southern Peru, there is a remote cliff on the flank of an otherwise unremarkable 18,363 foot high mountain called Nevado Mismi. Each morning, as the sun’s rays gently warm the mountain’s snow pack, flake by flake. . . drip by drip the snow melts and begins to flow down the shoulders of the mighty mountain.
A simple cross marks this lonely and humble location. Monuments to beginnings are not common, and if they exist at all are most often simple markers, rather than grand memorials. . .but without beginnings nothing comes after. From this desolate scene of rock and scree, the mighty Amazon River is birthed.
Rivulet adds to rivulet, as day succeeds day. . . meandering mountain streams add to numberless and nameless brooks, and springs. . . flowing and ever growing the waters move relentlessly onward to their last measured destiny in the Atlantic Ocean.
A picture of any spot along the path of the Amazon River, is not a picture of the river, but a mere snapshot of the process which is the river. A river exists in breadth, depth, length, and importantly in time. . .The great river at it’s mouth is a culmination of every drop of water. . . every day. . . every moment. . .every cloud which shed its rain the drainage basin and joined that mighty volume.
Such as I am not a snapshot of where I was yesterday or last year, nor where I am today, but I too am a process which started in the remote and hidden place of my conception, and continues for ever more. For the waters of the Amazon do not end at the Atlantic Ocean, but they are transformed and join the waters of the endless sea. . .
I began in remoteness. . .darkness and obscurity. No marker for my beginning. No memorial for celebrating or remembering that day when my parents came together and I was created. . . but my soul itself, as a testament to that union, now continues for ever more. From that secret and humble beginning, my journey has taken me past wondrous scenes of grandeur and excitement. From the frolicing and joyous rapids and falls of youth, through dark stormy days of sadness and loss. . . to the widening and slowing of pace of life’s current. . .I now enjoy the more languid and steady pace of the last leg of life. More breadth and depth than of my earlier days, I too am a culmination of my path. . . mighty tributaries, small streams, violent storms, and gentle rains have fed me, and helped me to grow. I shall be transformed again, when I enter the endless sea of eternity.
But unlike a river, I indeed control the channel of my course. By my decisions I determine the Ocean of Peace for my destiny, or the Sea of Darkness. By the sacrifice of Jesus, the way is open to either eternity. God has made a way. . . His great work as in the construction of a great canal, connecting one sea to another. . . He has opened the door to everlasting life in joy and tranquility. He has made a way where there was no way. . ., but in the end. . . it is our choice.
At the end of the day, no one can point a finger at God and claim Him to be unjust or unfair. . .
I choose life. . .
I choose peace. . .
I choose light. . .
I submit to you my God. . .
I thank you my God. . .
I love you my God. . .