There is a special spot, a low point on the gravel road I walk these mornings, where a brook passes under the road and feeds a creek beyond. The creek winds eventually to a larger swamp and then joins Ware Creek which snakes a few miles to feed into the York River. When I reach the brook each morning I feel like I'm visiting a friend because it is always talking, babbling, singing. As the water rushes or meanders from one side to the other it seems excited about the trip that it is traveling and constantly happy to tell the world. I don't think it realizes just how humble it is...a mere trickle of water compared to the great York River that it will eventually join. Perhaps I identify with the brook. Individually, we are little creeks and streams passing through woods and under roads and meandering through life. But we are headed through swamps and we are bound for larger streams and we will eventually join the great river. We have read about this great water and we are now convinced that we will one day be there. And so we babble on in joy and anticipation. Right now much of our view is only of the narrow banks that surround us or of towering trees that close in nearby. But we have confidence of a future time when the sky will open up and the air will blow freely and the expanse will be grand. And so, as we meander through this day and the next we are content to be a little creek, passing under a road, and babbling joyfully about things to come.
Psalm 110:7 But he himself will be refreshed from brooks along the way.
He will be victorious.
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