times that I have sought a perfect place have often been with a rod, tackle box,
and net in hand. It must be a serene place, void of any people, no highway,
and far from anything that would remind me of the common place, everyday rush of
a frustrating and stressful day of patterned, constant, and ever-moving
anxieties of the city and my normal day. It
has to be away from where I park my car after driving hours to get here.
It canít be easily accessible. And
it must provide solitude, astonishing vistas, separation from worry of harm or
attack, either by wild beast or man with a felonious heart, and of course,
tremendous sized fish that bite only on what I ever-so-languishly set upon the
waters. I have my Bible with me
always. For as the blue sky of the
perfect day offers a banquet of festive parades of clouds, birds, and airstreams
of passing, high-flying jets taking their cargo to a place known only to my own
imagination, and as the main feast is offered on the plate of sunshine, striking
the rocks and cascading off the waters, filling me with a warmth more than can
ever be created elsewhere, I find in the shade of an ancient tree, the bed and
pillow of moss, fallen leaf, and undergrown grass, the perfect place to read
Godís Word. The trail is always
hard to locate for navigating down the steep rocky bluffs that guard my final
destination, for it is usually covered with a great expanse of brush consisting
of Devilís Club, assorted berry vines, thorn bushes and everyother variety of
pointing, sticking, attaching, needle-like instruments of harm that are unseen
but directly felt the instant I point my rod, duck my head and begin to traverse
the path I sense is the only way to that ideal spot.
I have learned through my years of searching, that wearing a hat protects
me from the onslaught of these unseen warriors with spears and grappling hooks
as their weapons. Also, long-sleeve
shirts, sweaters, and an overcoat, belted firmly over long pants of denim, jean,
corduroy, or other heavy material, strengthens my arsenal of defense.
Leather boots will soon lose their luster however, but will prove to be
battle weary as the lines of war-torn images lashed across their tops are
evidence to the continuous assaults from beatings and whippings being undertaken
at the level trodden by such brave souls. A
backpack is only taken in most thought-out times.
The tangle of fishing line hanging limp from the tip of the rod and the
meshed fabric of the net are dangers taken on as I manipulate each vine, each
branch, each bush in perfect unison with the silent music playing loudly in my
mind from the final tune heard just before stepping out of the car.
And now, as rehearsed on the drive here, I act out my role on a stage
chosen, filled by garrison after garrison of waiting soldiers hiding in ambush,
before an audience of rock and trees hanging on the edge, fingers tightly
gripping the little remaining frame of the their chair, leaning far over a
balcony where a perilous drop would collapse in agonizing horror all things
below, including my own props, curtain, and surrounding stage.
In obedience to the very few who have journeyed before me, I follow their
trail blazed by the bent or broken evidence of their passing, and the plowed up
rock and the fallen soil of their hardship.
Step by step I advance, stopping often to disengage, reverse course, and
re-engage. But as enduring patience
seeks fulfillment through hope, so I have learned that a reward waits for those
with such longed-for traits. And
moving to different locations along the streamís unrouted trip, even though
treacherous, continues to bring out these characteristics of well-written
Biblical lessons. Patience to the end. Hope
throughout the day. For not always
is the tree in the right place where a bed can be made, or a chair designed.
Not always does the waterís edge cooperate by leaving a foothold.
Not always does the canyon walls give way to the heavens above, and when
they do bow and relent as addressing a dancer requesting to cut-in, offering to
the intruder their steadfast place, it is not to the blue sky and warm sun the
dance is given, but it is to another, for as I turn to accept the new partner,
it is the storm, filled with cold wind, rain, or even snow, that has
uncourteously appeared. But
on occasion, when all things work together, and I have settled in, and I bring
out my Bible, I know at that instant, I found the perfect place.
Although itís nice to have a fish or two that are now fighting against
the resistance of the fish chain they are attached to, and they are the finest
specimen ever seen come from these waters, and although your line is stretched
exactly where you want it in the perfect pool of the stream before you, and even
though the sun is at the right place and providing the perfect temperature, I
realize all this around me is not required for me to rest in a perfect place.
All that it really takes is what I now hold in my hand, The Holy Bible.
In it I find my perfect place. Everything
else I could have left at home, the fishing rod, the tackle box, the backpack
full of candy sweets, junk food, cold fried chicken.
All of that, is not needed. All
of it, could be left behind. For it
is only in God that my perfect place is found, and when I reach out to Him, He
is found everywhere. I donít even
need the stream of water, but from it I hear its praise to the Lord.
I donít need the grand views, high mountains, or mighty forests, but
from them I hear and see their praises to the Lord. All I need is God, and in His Word, I find Him. I
donít even need to leave home, for His Word provides the perfect place to be,
even in the common place, the hectic place of my everyday life.
No matter where I am, or what I am doing, when I bring along Him, by His
Word, I am in my perfect place, I have gone to my mountain, and am alone with
Him, just the Lord and I. You see,
He has created all things for our enjoyment, but we can only know that, and
experience that, when we learn who He is and who His Son is.
His Word teaches me this. I
learn how to abide with Him. I
learn how to take Him into my heart and never be separated from Him, ever. I learn that my perfect place is in Him, through His Son,
Jesus Christ, by His Holy Spirit. Do
you want to find your perfect place? Of
course you do, thatís the desire of every single heart. Find it in Godís Word, The Holy Bible. Find Jesus Christ! What
do you say? Letís go fishing.
SelahPerfect Place by Ronhales Hebrews 4:12