The River

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

-John ESV

There is a river flowing over the rocks, winding through the woods. It flows through my world, and underneath the visible things, all the time day and night. It flows without ceasing. It is a river of words, flowing from the One who is the Word.

When I write, I go to this river. I take off my shoes and kneel down. I worship. I wash my feet. I put my bucket into the stream and fill it.

I carry the water of words to thirsty people. I am a water carrier. I carry a bucket back and forth.

I must keep my bucket clean and ready. I must wash my feet often. I must go to the river nearly every day.

My life and the life of the river are intertwined, as one. I cannot separate myself from it any more than I can stop drinking. For me water is life and life is the water.

This came to me in a dream. When I awoke, I wrote it down. There is something deep and good and pure about words from the heart penned on the page. Something that is more like God than anything else I do. It is as though his very heart, his very depths, flow through me -- his words into my words -- we mingle. And what comes from it, we call a testimony.

I have been shy about saying it. But here it is, as best as I can describe it.

This was written as part of a study of The Right to Write by Julia Cameron at High Calling Blogs. You can go there to find other posts about the book.

Photograph, copyright 2010 by Benjamin Frear.