The Place Beyond the Reeds

In light of the fact that the Race is quickly approaching, I have tried to make a point to spend the majority of my summer being around the friends and family who I’m closest to. Last week, I jumped on a plane with my sister and went to Dallas to see our aunt. This week, I drove 7 hours with my mom to come see my grandparents who live in Florida. 

 

So, here I sit at Memaw and Pepaw’s. 

 

For as long as I can remember—or anyone can remember for that matter—my Pepaw has been enamored by being out on the water. From fishing to canoeing, he has always found his way out into that endless flow of mystery and wonder. The water is his refuge, his escape. And, yesterday, I escaped with him into this refuge of his—he in his canoe, me in my kayak.

 

 

 

As I set out across the lagoon, I spotted an area on the far bank that immediately piqued my interest. It was hidden behind a thick patch of reeds and it looked as if it branched off into a couple of smaller creeks. My imagination quickly began to conjure up the different sights and sounds that might be awaiting me there.

 

If only I could reach it. 

 

It took me nearly half an hour to reach the other side of Mosquito Lagoon. As I approached the place beyond the reeds, though, something unexpected occurred: my kayak kept wanting to drift further down the bank, away from the spot that I had worked so hard to reach. The wind and the current continuously redirected me from the place where I longed to be: the place beyond the reeds.

 

I would exhaust myself paddling towards the hidden spot only to be pushed back again. And again. And again. 

 

It was unbelievably frustrating. Finally, though, I was able to work my way against the wind and the current: I found myself coming into the secluded area. 

 

The anticipation grew nearly unbearable as I paddled the last couple of strokes that would bring me around the corner and into the mystery and wonder that was the place beyond the reeds. And, then, it was there waiting for me on the other side:

 

Disappointment. 

 

That’s what was waiting for me. Disappointment.

 

Beyond the reeds were just more reeds. Yes, there were, in fact, a couple of creeks back there; but, they just appeared to recede back into nowhere. There wasn’t any interesting wildlife hiding in the brush or poking from beneath the water’s surface. No. It was just a normal, boring little extension of the lagoon.

 

I had used so much time and energy into getting to this place. To this place that I was so sure would be bursting with beauty. To this place that seemed to promise mystery and wonder beyond my imagination. To this place that I just knew would make all the time and energy worth it. 

 

But, upon reaching this place, I discovered that it wasn’t at all what I had hoped it would be. 

 

And, immediately, my thoughts drifted back to the wind and the current.

 

 

And to how it seems like we spend so much of our life—of our time and our energy—trying to get to that elusive place beyond the reeds that seems to promise us so much more. And to how we think that if we could just reach that place then somehow it would all come together and our wildest dreams would all come true. And to how we fight and fight against the winds and currents of life to get to that place only to realize that it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. 

 

And then the disappointment sets in. 

 

And we look back and realize that we missed out on so many other beautiful moments of life in our pursuit of that far off future. Of that place beyond the reeds.

 

But, what if we didn’t have to waste our time and our energy?  What if the winds and the currents of life were God’s ways of trying to get us to slow down and pay attention to the mystery and wonder of the present moment? And, what if we actually let these winds and these currents guide us and the disappointment never found its way into our lives because we found peace and contentment in all that God was showing us in the little details of everyday life?

 

You see, out there on that water yesterday I had a revelation: if we would take more time to pause and be present in the place that we are currently in and would stop focusing on the place ahead of us then maybe we would leave ourselves more time and energy and space for the Holy Spirit to guide us into the great mystery and wonder that exists in the here and now. 

 

And so, I urge you, therefore, brothers and sisters, to live in the present joy that God has dealt you today. 

 

As Brennan Manning advises in his book The Ragamuffin Gospel, “make a serious effort to remain rooted in the moment.”