Throwing stuff in the river
For the last two years or so I've had persistent urges to, figuratively, throw my cares into the river. This "river" is not an actual river, but just an analogy of something that can take life's crap and make it float away downstream into the great big ocean where it can disperse and be nothing.
Every time I come upon a river I think about my worries, burdens, struggles, fears and doubts. I think about my burdens when there's a fair amount of rushing water nearby. The current is so indiscriminate and swift to move things along. Whereas I hold on to my struggles, even when I've claimed to have surrendered them, the river does not allow me to hold on to them. If I release my cares into the water they're as good as gone.
If you want your worries back--back under your control--you have to go diving in after them. Diving into raging rapids to recover fears sounds ridiculously stupid. And it is, but we do it all the time, like dogs eating our own vomit and freed saints putting our shackles back on.
In all of these thoughts about the river, and it being so much like God's cleansing water of mercy and grace, songs have been forming. Melodies have been attaching themselves to these ideas of freedom from worry and doubt. Once everything's given up to the river of redemption nothing but new life is possible; the old stuff is making its way to the sea.
So here's a chorus to my river song:
Throw it in the river, watch it go downstream.
There's freedom in surrender, so take me.
Everything I've wanted, everything I need.
I've thrown it in the river, but don't give up on me.
Hopefully the finished song will be ready for listening soon.
Peace and love,