The 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.


Perfect Place by Ronhales                                                                                                                                                                     Hebrews 4:12

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