The River

Inspired by Ezkiel 47v1-12 and by a subsequent sermon on paddling in God’s river when we could be swimming.



The man measured 1,750 feet and the water was up to my ankles.  Measuring another 1,750 feet, it was knee-deep...waist-deep...a river that could not be crossed.

...And where-ever the river goes...there will be many fish.

...On the banks...there will grow all types of trees for food.  Their leaves will not wither nor will their fruit fall.





My guide took me out of the temple and led me towards the stream.  Children played in the shallows, catching minnows and splashing each other in the heat of the sun.  Adults paddled beside them; skirts hoisted and trousers rolled up as the water lapped at their ankles.  Other adults lazed in the dabbled shade of trees on either bank.

My lips curved into a broad grin as a small gaggle of the children raced passed us, throwing up cool, glistening drops of water that caught the light and bounced tiny rainbows in all directions.  I reached down to roll up my own trousers and join them, but my guide shook his head and pointed downstream.

Disappointed I followed, glancing back as children’s game got more boisterous.  I heard a parent call out; stern voice instructing them to calm down and then, rounding a bend in the bank, they were lost to view and hearing.

The stream deepened as we walked along it, and when my guide stopped again it was knee-deep.  Again he paused where other people gathered.  Children where still splashing and playing, but some of the smaller ones were doggy-paddling - finding dips in the river-bed that were deep enough to swim in.  Less adults lounged on the bank; the sun was hotter and they joined the children in the water.  Some, in their shorts, waded in amongst the children, others had discarded dignity and hoiked their skirts or trousers up as far as they could.

But again my guide shooed me on, ignoring my attempts at conversation or my pointed brow-wiping.

By now it was getting harder to scramble along the river bank.  Dense woodland crowded each side; stray tree roots overhang the bank and dangled straight into the water.  Behind me I could hear the laughing cries of paddlers and up ahead I could make out still more voices.  I squeezed passed thickly packed bushes and found my guide staring out over the water.  For a third time he led me to other people, but this time there were less.  The river had grown deeper and the bathers waded waist-deep, swimming and diving in the clear cool water.  A few held nets and stood comparing small fish. 

I smiled at my guide, “can we go in now?”  I asked. 

He returned my smile, but the light never reached his eyes.  Not yet, they said.  He waved a bronze hand further downstream.  We still have further to go.

Irritable, I felt my smile fade. Fine, I thought, let’s go.

My guide pressed on, through close-knit trees wearing brilliant green leaves.  The colours were spectacular; limes and emeralds; fresh new growth and the deep darkness of mature foliage.  Puzzled, I noticed that many of them were fruit-yielding trees and that several bore heavy fruit - apples, pears, plums; rich reds, speckled golds, royal indigoes.  Here and there the shiny pink of pomegranates and intertwining, and making my progress so much harder, resilient woody vines heavy with grapes.

Confused by the bizarre array, I turned to my guide for explanation.  There was a  tremendous grin on his face, one that split him from ear to ear.  Excited, he waved out towards the river.  Pulling back the branches from a plum tree, the ripe fruit tantalising in the summer heat, I looked at the river.

Which had grown into a mighty flood.  The far bank was near-enough a swimmable distance, but the waters were now deeper than anyone could possible wade.  Shielding my eyes with a hand, I could make out the swimmers, for once again my guide had led me to where others enjoyed themselves.

“Now can we go in?”  I struggled to keep the annoyance out of my voice, knowing full well that my guide would usher me on some place else.  No doubt he would take me down to the sea itself.

But to my surprise, he plucked a swollen pear from a tree and, crouching back on to his haunches, began eating.  Sweet juice ran out from the pear and dribbled over his hands, smiling at me, he licked his fingers; and this time, the smile reached his eyes, lighting them up with a joyful blaze.

“Now you can dive into the Master’s river.”  I stared astounded, this was the first time he had spoken since leaving the temple.  He hadn’t answered a single question nor vouchsafed one opinion throughout our entire walk.

He waved his bronzed hand at the water again.  “Look how deep the water is.  Would you really have been happy paddling in the shallows when you could be swimming in the depths?  The water is the Master’s refreshment in the desert of life; why splash your feet when you can fully submerge?”

Shock must have shown on my face because, taking another bite, he continued.  “Think of the fish as blessings; in the shallows you’ll only find minnows and sticklebacks.  Out here, everything.  It requires commitment, swimming in God’s river.  You can’t just dip in and out, laze by the side and let the world pass you by.  If you go it, it’s whole-hearted.  Here swim the dedicated.  Those that choose to share their lives with God on a daily, hourly, minute by minute basis.  Minnows are all very well, but I prefer swimming with dolphins.”

“But the children back at the stream?”  I sat down beside him, one of the rich, round plums now filling my hand.  “You can’t expect them to traipse all the way down here, to swim in such deep water.” 

My guide raised an eyebrow and jerked his head.  Following his line of sight, I looked and saw a young boy swimming in a close group of adults.

“His parents, grandparents, elders from his church, a teacher from his school.  It’s hard going, but they’re there for him.  And back at the shallows?  Did you not look?  The water only came up to your ankles, but did you not see the little girl laying down?  The current was washing all over her.  Her parents were afraid to leave the shallows, to go any deeper.”  A wave of sadness washed over my guide’s face.  “Mum will eventually leave the water altogether, sit on the bank and watch.  Dad will venture a little deeper, but the little girl will have to follow the river and travel downstream by herself; but in the meantime, she makes the most of the shallow water.”

My guide finished his pear and threw the core into the water, the plop as it landed disturbed the fish and they scattered.  A pale shimmer sped through the water, and I realised it was a pike swimming towards us.  It snatched at the pear core, its vicious teeth gleaming in the water.

“That’s a blessing?”  I felt smug, after his lecture I was determined to find something wrong with what he called ‘the Master’s river.’

“Not all blessings seem like it at the time.”  To my infuriation, he shrugged.  “Remember when your mother died?  That hardly felt like a blessing, did it?  And yet within moments she was relieved of her pain and she returned Home.”

My eyes narrowed, the rage boiling in my chest.  That was a blessing?  That was a ‘good‘ thing?

“You would rather she’d suffered longer?  Spent months, years in hospital instead of a few short weeks?  God gave you long enough to say goodbye, didn’t He?”

“He made her ill in the first place!”  I spat.

“And He could have healed her.  But he didn’t.”  My guide looked at me, calm recollection in his dark eyes.  “If she had never gotten ill or if He had healed her, what then?  You grew up without a mother.  That made you strong.  Very strong.”  A sardonic smile flicked across his face.  “And how many mother-figures did God send you?  Just how many of them would you have met if your mother had lived, hmm?  How many of them would you have spent time with, learnt from, helped in return?  God gave you a dozen mothers and made you a daughter a dozen times.”  He leaned forward and jabbed a finger at my chest, “and when you become a mother, you’ll know exactly what to say to your child and exactly what to do, because it will be all the things you wish had happened to you.  Swimming in the river isn’t always easy, but it is always rewarding.”