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Musings from the farm path 2

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  • Musings from the farm path 2

    I went for a walk to the woods today. Away from the house, the barn, the shop and the buildings. Away from the roads, the vehicles, the traffic, and the people. I went to my refuge from all the busyness and the noise. In the woods there is a worn path that allows for an easy traverse. It was formed by a logging crew nearly two decades ago, and has been kept open by the traffic of horses and ATVs as well as the occasional trail walker. Originally it was laid out as the most advantageous and direct route to remove fallen timber. For such purpose, it utilized the highest topography possible in order to provide well drained ground to support the heavy machinery. Ordinarily, I would simply follow it. No low hanging limbs, no mud, no briar snags, no unsteady footing, and a clear view of the journey ahead. But today, something else seemed to be beckoning. I began on the sturdy path, but off to its side, I noticed a small wet weather creek flowing. It originated from a drainage tile that carried excess water from saturated soils of a 12 acre field. Due to recent snowfall and present warmth of thawing soils, the 4" tile was running nearly full.

    There is a certain beauty and attractiveness of running water. Kind of a mesmerizing thing, a combination of sight, sound and smell that will draw a quiet mind. I just stood still for a minute or two. I was listening and then could hear the soft whispering of the brook. It was appealing to something within me, something deeper than between my ears. Not legible words, but kind of a beckoning that seemed to want me to come closer..something that wanted ME. So I stepped off the high road, steadied myself as I slipped ungracefully down the bank and into the creek. I stood still for a few moments longer in the ankle deep water. It broke quickly around my boots and then continued as though I wasn't there. For a few short moments I enjoyed the illusion that it was me moving quickly upstream through the still water. But when I removed my eyes from my own feet, the surrounding scenery soon attested to the fact that I indeed was the stationary one. Coldness was now penetrating into my feet, and for some reason it became apparent that I was not to stand still any longer, but should follow the water's flow.


    I determined from this point, that I should walk exactly where the water ran. Not up on the bank or along the side, but right in the midst of flowing creek. Several realizations began to come to me. Water always sought its own level and when it was still, its visible surface was always completely level and precisely 90 degrees from perfect plumb. While moving it covered the creek bed and maintained a parallel with it. It always sought to cover the entire creek bed and its depth would only increase after that coverage occurred. As I went downstream, it became obvious that I was walking in the lowest part of the woods, and the further I walked, the lower I became. The water was showing me that it was always seeking to take itself downhill and to the lowest position attainable. And funny thing, as I walked, totally engrossed with many thoughts, I did not even notice that my feet were no longer chilled. And down the water ran, creating washes and banks of various depths and sizes but down the gentle grade it flowed. Because the loggers had made no provision for the stream, the stream gave their road no grace, washed through and carried away their slag, clay and stone. The little creek had shattered the trail and left a dead end from both directions. Not long before, the logger's road had seemed a bulwark against the little creek. But not content to remain a stagnant shallow pool, it used time and consistent flow to make its way deep and through. The wash caused me to stop in the very heart of the gash, and ponder for just awhile, on what I had seen.

    A little weakened by the awe, I walked a little slower on. I stumbled a time or two on rocks partially hidden by water and sand. I stopped to examine one of these fellows who seemed to be in defiance of the flow. Sturdy enough as my foot would testify, but upon picking them up I found no rough edges, only smooth gentle curves albeit no doubt smaller than before. For some reason I recalled the five smooth stones that David had chosen for the slaying of the giant. And I contemplated how the smooth shape had aided the accuracy for it to be embedded in the adversary's skull.

    Walking slower still, I journeyed on. Even though I had not really noticed, my overall elevation in the woods had decreased dramatically. I could see very little of the area around me, save for the low lying creek bed itself, which seemed to encompass a far larger area of my world than just a little while ago. Sounds from a busy road not so far away, were muted and barely negligible. The sun was setting low, but the vivid colors of dusk were hidden from my view. Long shadows from the surrounding wood were encroaching and even the stream banks themselves cast a darkness and a deafness further muffling my eyes and ears. Again I stopped. No more splashing footsteps nor eroding tracks. Alone I stood in the lowest floor of the wood. All quiet save for thoughts in my mind..and the little meandering creek going ever on.


    I am poured out like water,
    And all My bones are out of joint;
    My heart is like wax;
    It has melted within Me. (Psalm 22:14)

    Then He brought me back to the door of the temple;
    And there was water flowing from under the threshold of the temple,
    From just south of the altar.
    He said to me, "Son of man have you seen this?"
    It was a river that I could not cross; for the water was too deep,
    Water in which one must swim, a river that could not be crossed.
    Then He said to me:
    "This water flows..goes down into the valley, and enters the sea."
    "When it enters the sea, its waters are healed."
    "And it shall be that every living thing that moves,"
    "Wherever the rivers go, they will live."
    "And everything will live wherever the river goes."
    "But its swamps and marshes will not be healed;"
    "For they will be given over to salt." (Ezek 47:1-12)


    If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.
    He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said,
    Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water. (John 7:38)

    And he showed me a pure river of water of Life, clear as crystal,
    Proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb.
    In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river,
    Was the tree of Life which bore twelve fruits..
    And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations
    (Rev 22:1-2)

    Last edited by RoyDavid; February 26, 2017, 06:40 AM.

  • #2
    You write very well as a professional author Roy. Thanks for the story.

    Comment


    • #3
      Originally posted by RoyDavid View Post
      I went for a walk to the woods today. Away from the house, the barn, the shop and the buildings. Away from the roads, the vehicles, the traffic, and the people. I went to my refuge from all the busyness and the noise. In the woods there is a worn path that allows for an easy traverse. It was formed by a logging crew nearly two decades ago, and has been kept open by the traffic of horses and ATVs as well as the occasional trail walker. Originally it was laid out as the most advantageous and direct route to remove fallen timber. For such purpose, it utilized the highest topography possible in order to provide well drained ground to support the heavy machinery. Ordinarily, I would simply follow it. No low hanging limbs, no mud, no briar snags, no unsteady footing, and a clear view of the journey ahead. But today, something else seemed to be beckoning. I began on the sturdy path, but off to its side, I noticed a small wet weather creek flowing. It originated from a drainage tile that carried excess water from saturated soils of a 12 acre field. Due to recent snowfall and present warmth of thawing soils, the 4" tile was running nearly full.

      There is a certain beauty and attractiveness of running water. Kind of a mesmerizing thing, a combination of sight, sound and smell that will draw a quiet mind. I just stood still for a minute or two. I was listening and then could hear the soft whispering of the brook. It was appealing to something within me, something deeper than between my ears. Not legible words, but kind of a beckoning that seemed to want me to come closer..something that wanted ME. So I stepped off the high road, steadied myself as I slipped ungracefully down the bank and into the creek. I stood still for a few moments longer in the ankle deep water. It broke quickly around my boots and then continued as though I wasn't there. For a few short moments I enjoyed the illusion that it was me moving quickly upstream through the still water. But when I removed my eyes from my own feet, the surrounding scenery soon attested to the fact that I indeed was the stationary one. Coldness was now penetrating into my feet, and for some reason it became apparent that I was not to stand still any longer, but should follow the water's flow.


      I determined from this point, that I should walk exactly where the water ran. Not up on the bank or along the side, but right in the midst of flowing creek. Several realizations began to come to me. Water always sought its own level and when it was still, its visible surface was always completely level and precisely 90 degrees from perfect plumb. While moving it covered the creek bed and maintained a parallel with it. It always sought to cover the entire creek bed and its depth would only increase after that coverage occurred. As I went downstream, it became obvious that I was walking in the lowest part of the woods, and the further I walked, the lower I became. The water was showing me that it was always seeking to take itself downhill and to the lowest position attainable. And funny thing, as I walked, totally engrossed with many thoughts, I did not even notice that my feet were no longer chilled. And down the water ran, creating washes and banks of various depths and sizes but down the gentle grade it flowed. Because the loggers had made no provision for the stream, the stream gave their road no grace, washed through and carried away their slag, clay and stone. The little creek had shattered the trail and left a dead end from both directions. Not long before, the logger's road had seemed a bulwark against the little creek. But not content to remain a stagnant shallow pool, it used time and consistent flow to make its way deep and through. The wash caused me to stop in the very heart of the gash, and ponder for just awhile, on what I had seen.

      A little weakened by the awe, I walked a little slower on. I stumbled a time or two on rocks partially hidden by water and sand. I stopped to examine one of these fellows who seemed to be in defiance of the flow. Sturdy enough as my foot would testify, but upon picking them up I found no rough edges, only smooth gentle curves albeit no doubt smaller than before. For some reason I recalled the five smooth stones that David had chosen for the slaying of the giant. And I contemplated how the smooth shape had aided the accuracy for it to be embedded in the adversary's skull.

      Walking slower still, I journeyed on. Even though I had not really noticed, my overall elevation in the woods had decreased dramatically. I could see very little of the area around me, save for the low lying creek bed itself, which seemed to encompass a far larger area of my world than just a little while ago. Sounds from a busy road not so far away, were muted and barely negligible. The sun was setting low, but the vivid colors of dusk were hidden from my view. Long shadows from the surrounding wood were encroaching and even the stream banks themselves cast a darkness and a deafness further muffling my eyes and ears. Again I stopped. No more splashing footsteps nor eroding tracks. Alone I stood in the lowest floor of the wood. All quiet save for thoughts in my mind..and the little meandering creek going ever on.


      I am poured out like water,
      And all My bones are out of joint;
      My heart is like wax;
      It has melted within Me. (Psalm 22:14)

      Then He brought me back to the door of the temple;
      And there was water flowing from under the threshold of the temple,
      From just south of the altar.
      He said to me, "Son of man have you seen this?"
      It was a river that I could not cross; for the water was too deep,
      Water in which one must swim, a river that could not be crossed.
      Then He said to me:
      "This water flows..goes down into the valley, and enters the sea."
      "When it enters the sea, its waters are healed."
      "And it shall be that every living thing that moves,"
      "Wherever the rivers go, they will live."
      "And everything will live wherever the river goes."
      "But its swamps and marshes will not be healed;"
      "For they will be given over to salt." (Ezek 47:1-12)


      If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.
      He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said,
      Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water. (John 7:38)

      And he showed me a pure river of water of Life, clear as crystal,
      Proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb.
      In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river,
      Was the tree of Life which bore twelve fruits..
      And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations
      (Rev 22:1-2)
      Thank you so very much Roy for writing and posting this wonderful article here. I enjoyed reading it very much.

      I had not been able to sleep while I was having my coughing spasms and now that I am able to sleep, my sleep schedule is really messed up. I could not get to sleep until about 5 AM this morning and woke back up about 8 AM and read this. I went back to bed and dreamed about what you wrote. The Lord would wake me up often during my dream to make me remember what He was showing me about this subject you wrote about.

      Here is one of the points The Lord made:

      The closer to the source, the more pure the water is.

      When water first comes out of the ground ( what we call a spring) it is very pure. But the further it gets from the spring, the more impurities is in it. ( like herbicides from farms or lawns )

      The Lord is The Source of the water of the Word. It is totally pure when it comes from Him. The prophets of old got their writings from The Lord so it was pure. But when other men translated those words it was not as pure. Then when still more men read the Book and decide for themselves what those words mean, it is still less pure. Then still more men preach this unpure water to the people, a sick church is the result.

      There is to be no mediator between men and the Lord. We should get our information from the Source, who is The Lord.

      If we turn to The Lord when we read the Book, and ask Him to reveal the Truth to us, then we are drinking directly from the Spring of Living Water, who is the source of all Truth and all Life.

      Even when you read these articles of mine or others, turn to The Lord Jesus and ask Him to reveal His Truth to you. Get your Water from the Source, it is pure.

      Comment


      • #4
        Thank you Lou. Very nice for you tell me that the article brought thought to your mind and heart (and sleep to your body!) If a sermon, teaching, article or what have you causes us to ponder a matter in our heart, and by virtue of that, draw a little closer to our Lord, then no higher compliment can be paid for a human endeavor. All of creation attests to the Glory (thoughts, motives, intentions) of God. We are surrounded by His creation, which stands as a strong visible witness to the Truth of His Scriptures, and will testify to the validity of doctrines. God is the Author of His Scriptures and the Creator of His universe. The same Person both authored and created, and His attributes which are unchanging, carry through everything He touches. Be still and know, man of dust, and that I will wonderously display for you I AM who I AM.

        Comment

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