FLOWING

The spot of blue at middle/left is the Columbia River.

I live in a valley carved thousands of years ago by a mighty flowing river we call the Columbia. This is one viewpoint above the river valley, a pull-off which has also become something of a romantic “date” place. (Okay, “Lover's Leap,” but any who try to “leap” would land in the driveway of the home just below.) Often when passing the turnout I think of the imagery in Psalm 36 as it describes God's love, righteousness, and faithfulness. Especially these verses:

Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, your justice like the great deep....They [people, both “high and low,” v. 7b] feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights. (Psalm 36:6, 8)

My hometown isn't perfect. It has crime and homelessness problems. Illegal drugs. Income inequities. Folks living in shacks, others in Hollywood-worthy mansions. But good people live here. So does the God who offers spiritual refreshment far superior to the treated water that comes through our faucets.

Yet every time I read Psalm 36, I pause at this phrase: “your river of delights.” Surely this describes the first river into which Adam and Eve pushed their toes in the very beginning at the Garden of Eden. We're left to guess what it was—quite possibly the area we know now as the Tigris and Euphrates river basin. But the “where” is not as important as the principle: that God's righteousness, justice and merciful provision flow from Him like a mighty river of love.

Not that we won't have tough times in life. Just a mile downhill from this lookout, my husband and I were victims of a crash caused by a young driver who rounded a curve too fast and went out of control, hitting us and totaling our car. It happened in seconds. But we all lived. A tow truck removed our vehicle, a friend took us back home--to a crock-pot dinner and bread-machine loaf that had simmered and baked the whole time of our traumatic experience.

I first lived in this town in the early 1970s when hired as a “intern reporter” right out of university. I was almost broke after paying college bills, but the managing editor took note of that when offering me a job. He also asked around the newspaper office if anyone would like to temporarily “room and board” a young lady coming to work for him for the summer.

I had no car to drive over to this new job, but scraped together enough to fly over (a luxury for me). I still remember looking down into this river valley that would be at least my summer home. The managing editor himself picked me up at the airport, and praised the landscape and advantages of this valley as he drove me to the newspaper office. There, he introduced me to the lady in “advertising” who'd rent me her spare room (and feed me) for a couple months until my first paychecks helped me get a car and my own housing.

I'd end up working as a reporter and section editor for more than five years before moving on, never intending to come back. Little did I realize that about a decade later, a young man I'd seriously dated in that town would decide he was ready for marriage and contacted me—in Chicago! We did marry and I moved back. That was more than forty years ago. Four decades of hard times (like that accident) and burying loved ones. Joyful times of raising children to responsible adulthood.

Undergirding all of that was trust in the One who is the “fountain of life” (v. 9a). Our Refreshment in spiritually dry times. The One in whose light we see light (v. 9b). Thus, whenever I drive past this viewpoint, I am reminded of my “history” in trusting God, and learning how He is my “fountain of life” (v. 9). I'm also reminded of another “river” of delights, that flows from the throne of God (Revelation 22), and will be mine to behold, someday.