On the Drifting of Leaves Downstream

I just got back from a camping retreat near Clayton, Ga. with some youth from my church. The focus of the trip was “Man vs. Wild: the fight for sexual purity.” We had a great time, but alas, that is not the focus of this post. Instead, I want to share some of my musings from my time of solitude this morning at Earl’s Ford.

While sitting there watching and listening to the river flowing by, a couple of thoughts crossed my mind: 1. I’m terrible at fly fishing (although I did have my first successful catch by way of the fly rod yesterday – a real whopper coming in at a grand total of four inches – woohoo!) 2. I’m terrible at trusting God.

I had this epiphany while sitting on a rock watching some leaves float downstream. It was a simple, beautiful thing to watch. They would drop from the autumn-tinged trees, slowly spiraling downward until they landed gracefully on the water, where they would then proceed to float down the river with the current. As I marveled at this spectacle, it hit me: I am a lot like the leaves, and God is a lot like the river. Sometimes the water is cold and unpleasant to me, while at other times it’s cool and refreshing. At certain points, I crash into rocks and rapids which painfully toss me around, bruising and breaking me, yet at other times, I float gently among still pools of calm water. I get spun around in every direction unsure of where I’m going and how in the world this meandering river will get me where I need to go.

Questions fill my head. Will I reach my destination? Will I sink before I get there? Will I get lost and stranded on the side of the river, forgotten and forsaken by the driving current?

These things do not matter to the leaf, and they should not matter to me. They are insignificant. The leaf cannot force the river to do what it desires, nor can I force God to take me where I want to go. All that we can do is go wherever the river may take us.

And strangely enough, that is a very peaceful thought.