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It’s so rare to experience the absolute beginning of something. To be at the birthing place of a baby stream felt some how enlightening, invigorating, and uplifting. I could physically touch, see, and know for sure where this creek had its origins.
We soon took one of several snack/nap breaks as is our way. As I sat munching on some G.O.R.P. I began to ponder this small stream and its mother; the cirque of the Fryingpan basin. Within this bowl were half a dozen or so other similar small streams all obeying the laws of gravity and descending and eventually merging to form Shafer Creek that grew with each contribution of dozens of other unnamed rivulet streams to head down and eastward off the continental divide. Upon arriving on the eastern flank of the mountain range, Shafer Creek adds its contribution to the young and newly forming North Fork of the Platte River.
I mentally connect some dots and have an “ah ha” moment knowing this water can connect me to my own home. This water runs east from the divide then swings north crossing the Wyoming border and continues north circling the town of Casper. It then journeys southeast towards the town of North Platte where it joins with its twin sister the South Platte. Joining forces, they become one and gain momentum and volume as they head eastward to join with the Missouri River near Omaha, Nebraska. The Missouri descends south and eastward to add its contribution to the mighty Mississippi River at St. Louis. From there I hang a left snaking northward for several hundred miles until I arrive at Ft. Snelling in St. Paul, Minnesota. At the fort I signal left and merge onto the Minnesota River heading first southwest and then veer northwest across the plains of southern Minnesota. Crossing the waters of Lac Qui Parle, the Big Stone, Traverse, and Bois de Sioux I finally reach the headwaters of the Red River of the North. I follow the downstream flow zigging and zagging until I reach the eastern flank of Edgewood golf course in Fargo, North Dakota. Taking a hard right to the Moorhead side, I follow the twisting Oakport Coulee northward until I arrive at the edge of the dike. Beaching my canoe, I scramble over the dike and arrive safe and sound in my backyard.
The waters of our humble Oakport Coulee and those of the high mountain Fryingpan Basin are not so different. They are in fact connected. What I do in the hidden seclusion of backcountry Colorado wilderness affects the water quality of my backyard home. How I treat my yard, what I put on it, and how I use this water affects the purity and quality of that distant water high at the source of that moss-covered stream. They are separated by thousands of miles, but not by cause and effect. This precious, primary gift of life, given to us by our Creator cannot be taken for granted. The time of ignorance and naivety about our actions and consequences is over. We can no longer live in selfish isolation and seclusion. We share this mother earth, this beautiful gift of a planet with billions of others. It is time we realized this and begin acting with greater care of this ship that we all share. There are no lifeboats on this ship.
Having been to the “mountain top” so to speak, or very nearly so, I think on the impact of this one small rivulet high in the Colorado Rockies. This tiny moss-covered stream was not called to do great things. It wasn’t asked by the Creator to do huge, monumental, grandiose things, to be like the Big Missouri or Mighty Mississippi. It was simply called to contribute, to be who it was, where it was, and give of itself to the world.
For most of us, God doesn’t call us to do great things. He doesn’t call us to huge, monumental, impressive or dramatic movements or actions. He’s not asking you or me to be Billy Graham, Max Lucado, Mother Theresa or Rick Warren. He simply asks us to contribute to the whole, to give of what we have, to impact those in our neighborhood, our family, our school, our soccer team and our workplace. To be who you are, where you are and give of yourself to the world. Maybe if we all give our little bit, we’ll actually have a significant positive impact on the world as a whole.
One thing I so love about Jesus is that he kept things so simple. In our overly complex and complicated world he brings simplicity. “Love God, love your neighbor, love yourself.” “Love other people like I first loved you.” “Forgive one another just like I forgave you.” “Don’t judge others, unless you want to be judged.” “Act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” “Do unto others, as you would have done to you.” “Put others first.” “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” “Seek to serve, not be served.” This is pretty easy stuff to comprehend. If only we could better practice what He preached.
One final truth is that water always flows downward. It never seeks an upward path. It simply obeys the laws of nature given by our Creator. Much like our humble moss-covered stream, Jesus always sought a downward path. A path of humility and service to others. He didn’t go seeking attention, didn’t climb the popularity ladder, didn’t purposely seek out the rich, important, and famous, didn’t name drop, didn’t network at parties, didn’t self-promote, and didn’t constantly paste new selfies on Facechat or Snapbook or Instatweet.
Today, may you contribute. May you give of yourself to the world in need. May you keep it simple. May you follow your Lord downward to the lost, the lonely and the needy. May God use each of us to make a bigger impact on our world.
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