The day before yesterday, I took my laptop to the wooden bridge over our little pond. The air was cool but the sun was warm, and it was so quiet, I could almost hear the fish swimming. I wrote on a few projects, but the notion that the Creator was being playful with his creation that day was terribly distracting. Finally, I just gave into the enjoyment He was feeling in the afternoon.
When a writer steps into the meeting place of the Lord Almighty and nature, a hymn usually follows. Three words came into my head: Beneath the Waters, and this came afterward:
When, kneeling at the cross, I pour
confession in Christ's holy ears,
no sweeter honey than his love
restores my heart through broken tears.
Beneath the waters-
he cleanses my soul
and from separation he draws me near
For under the water
my coffin, hid, brings death to this
body
but with him I live!
Though fears uncounted raise the
stream,
his Spirit cometh like a dove.
The moment I obey I hear:
'This is my child- whom I love!'
In last baptism, we lay down
and rise in resurrection-birth,
when in the glory of the Lord,
we see the Lord return to earth.
This was wonderful enough, but the drop that made the cup too full was the piano music- it came as easily as making pumpkin pie. Sometimes, pleasing God is as simple as enjoying living. If praise was mystic, then homely things would be worth despising. But he has made the common things valuable and bonding; and if we look with the angle of light that beautifies the lowliest object, we find great happiness!
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