My Pile Of Rocks

“Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the ark of the covenant had stood.  And they are there to this day.”  Joshua 4:9

I was lucky to spend this last weekend camping in the Sierra Nevada instead of home in Sacramento where the temperatures were creeping up and slowly cooking everything outside.  It is a trip that I have been organizing annually for a couple of years.  Each year I keep a list of the people coming, take care of shopping for the food, and try to keep a semblance of order over the cooking.  On Saturday we go for a hike along the lake and sometimes see a Bald Eagle cruising for fish.

Saturday afternoon is the time out I take during the weekend.  I hike off by myself to a lake that I discovered a number of years ago.  There is no trail and it is a little hard to get to.  I have never seen any evidence that other people go there so I can treat it like my own private outdoor sanctuary.  It is a great place to spend some time on Saturday afternoon by myself, away from the group.  It is my Sabbath rest during the weekend.

This lake is special to me for more than being a great place to relax, take a refreshing swim, and just resting in a place where an insect buzz is the loudest thing around.  It is special to me because the second time I was ever there turned out to be a formative spiritual experience for me.  I can still remember getting out of the water after a swim and feeling compelled to praise God.  I am normally a very calm and measured person.  It is not in my nature to be charismatic and sing or pray with my hands raised over my head.  But on that day I felt compelled to praise God in that specific way.  I suppose it is probably the most pure moment of praising my creator that I have ever experienced.

I have returned to that lake many times since that day of praise.  Every time I have hiked over the ridge above the lake, I have wondered if that time I would be able to praise God like that again.  I wanted to go back again and again hoping it was the place where I could praise God in a less inhibited way.  This time I went back with the same hope I have always had; to experience it once again.  But it didn’t happen this time either.  I left as I always have… disappointed.

I have been reflecting on that expectation and disappointment since I returned.  I realized that maybe I am thinking about it all wrong.  I have been going back to the lake year after year hoping to repeat something from the past.  But the past can’t be relived, only remembered and honored.  I am resolved that next time I return to my lake, I will celebrate what happened on that special afternoon a long time ago.  I will make it a monument to my relationship with God instead of a thing to be duplicated.

[PhotoCredit:keepwaddling1 & Mrs Logic]