I stood on three inches of inflatable surfboard above the Missouri River. My shirt and shorts dripped from falling off before I got the board's air pressure right. The paddle in my hands and the current below pushed forward along of the seven and a half miles from Holter Dam towards Craig Bridge.
Mountains rise up on each side of the river. They're covered by a mix of dark pine trees, jagged gray cliffs, and prairie grasses. Pelicans fly sorties over fly fisherman. The river reflects the image of mountains as dark curtains opening up to the reflection of the scattered clouds above. Eddies bob and swirl atop the reflected mountains and sky.
The water is deep and slow at the beginning of the float. The current barely moves. The Missouri's depth hides the bottom from view. The river grows shallower as it crosses around the bend. The sun pushes through the clouds to illuminate the rocks, sand and weed beds beneath the water's surface. Rainbow and brown trout chase each other across my field of vision.
The sun pulls back behind a cloud. The river bottom disappears as the surface of the Missouri regains the reflection of the sky and mountains above. The wind comes up from the north. Ripples rise over the water. The board shifts under me. I struggle to paddle against the headwind. My legs quiver. My muscles in my back strain with each stroke.
The combination of wind and clouds hid my view of the depths below. It didn't matter. The awkward combination of trying to balance on a shifting board while paddling had my full attention. The river could have turned neon green and I might not have noticed.
Then the wind calmed, the sun slipped out from the clouds. My gaze returned to the river bottom and the fish that danced above it. The sun, the clouds, the depth, and the wind continued to shift my view of the river from reflection of sky, to inky blue, and then greenish river bottom.
By the end of the ride, I was thinking about how similar those changing views are of our views on life and sacred reality. There are moments in life where it is nearly impossible not to see the outline of the Divine Hand. There are also moments, hours, weeks, and even months where the view is obscured by the distractions of life and the tasks at hand.
These varying levels of spiritual insight are natural part of the Way and there can be a tremendous amount of power in the moments our vision stops at the surface. The letters of Mother Theresa of Calcutta demonstrate that this incredible woman of faith lived in spiritual darkness from the founding of her Missionaries of Charity in 1949 until her death in 1997. Mother Theresa's struggle to maintain her faith against the darkness was one of the most inspiring acts of spiritual endurance of the 20th century.
Most of us will not experience the darkness of the spiritual struggle on anywhere near the level of a mystic like Mother Theresa, but we will all experience it. We need to see that darkness that spiritual blindness as an opportunity to demonstrate our faith. To continue forward against the challenges until we fight ourselves back beneath the glow of the Creator's divine light.
For without spiritual darkness, we would never be able to demonstrate that we meet the standard Jesus described in John: 20:31, "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."
NOTE: I wanted to include one more quote from Mother Theresa, but couldn't figure out a way to tie it into the post. "My dear children - without our suffering, our work would just be social work, very good and helpful, but it would not be the work of Jesus Christ, not part of the redemption." What a remarkable woman. You can read more about her spiritual struggle in the book Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light.
If you have a minute, please sign/share this web petition to the Secretary of the Army John McHugh to help injured soldiers access service dogs. Your help could make a big difference. Thank you!
Mountains rise up on each side of the river. They're covered by a mix of dark pine trees, jagged gray cliffs, and prairie grasses. Pelicans fly sorties over fly fisherman. The river reflects the image of mountains as dark curtains opening up to the reflection of the scattered clouds above. Eddies bob and swirl atop the reflected mountains and sky.
The water is deep and slow at the beginning of the float. The current barely moves. The Missouri's depth hides the bottom from view. The river grows shallower as it crosses around the bend. The sun pushes through the clouds to illuminate the rocks, sand and weed beds beneath the water's surface. Rainbow and brown trout chase each other across my field of vision.
The sun pulls back behind a cloud. The river bottom disappears as the surface of the Missouri regains the reflection of the sky and mountains above. The wind comes up from the north. Ripples rise over the water. The board shifts under me. I struggle to paddle against the headwind. My legs quiver. My muscles in my back strain with each stroke.
The combination of wind and clouds hid my view of the depths below. It didn't matter. The awkward combination of trying to balance on a shifting board while paddling had my full attention. The river could have turned neon green and I might not have noticed.
Then the wind calmed, the sun slipped out from the clouds. My gaze returned to the river bottom and the fish that danced above it. The sun, the clouds, the depth, and the wind continued to shift my view of the river from reflection of sky, to inky blue, and then greenish river bottom.
By the end of the ride, I was thinking about how similar those changing views are of our views on life and sacred reality. There are moments in life where it is nearly impossible not to see the outline of the Divine Hand. There are also moments, hours, weeks, and even months where the view is obscured by the distractions of life and the tasks at hand.
These varying levels of spiritual insight are natural part of the Way and there can be a tremendous amount of power in the moments our vision stops at the surface. The letters of Mother Theresa of Calcutta demonstrate that this incredible woman of faith lived in spiritual darkness from the founding of her Missionaries of Charity in 1949 until her death in 1997. Mother Theresa's struggle to maintain her faith against the darkness was one of the most inspiring acts of spiritual endurance of the 20th century.
Most of us will not experience the darkness of the spiritual struggle on anywhere near the level of a mystic like Mother Theresa, but we will all experience it. We need to see that darkness that spiritual blindness as an opportunity to demonstrate our faith. To continue forward against the challenges until we fight ourselves back beneath the glow of the Creator's divine light.
For without spiritual darkness, we would never be able to demonstrate that we meet the standard Jesus described in John: 20:31, "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."
NOTE: I wanted to include one more quote from Mother Theresa, but couldn't figure out a way to tie it into the post. "My dear children - without our suffering, our work would just be social work, very good and helpful, but it would not be the work of Jesus Christ, not part of the redemption." What a remarkable woman. You can read more about her spiritual struggle in the book Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light.
If you have a minute, please sign/share this web petition to the Secretary of the Army John McHugh to help injured soldiers access service dogs. Your help could make a big difference. Thank you!
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