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Pecos River Church ~ shared by my friend Larry Emerson
I went to one of my “favorite churches” the other day. It was not a building made by hands, rather it was a Cathedral made by Elohim (The Creator), the One who spoke creation into being.
Its walls were not wood or steel, but the stone of canyon walls. Its ceiling was as high as the bright blue sky—it seemed that it touched the heavens. There were no icons or statues; but trees there were. Light emanated from El-Roi (God of Seeing), the One who is above all and known by many names—The Light of the World.
The pews were slime-covered rocks embedded in the water of life. Finding a solid place to stand was the order of the day. Moving from rock to rock, the flowing water was a reminder of the pressures of life, and the slimy rocks a reminder of the need to move ever so cautiously. I used my staff to help with my stability—Yahweh-Rohi (The Lord Our Shepherd).
The music of the day came from the wind rustling through the trees and the water rushing over the rocks. As I got settled in, my feet and legs were planted in the water, with my right foot forward—it was as though I was connected with the One who made it all. Yahweh-Sabaoth (The Lord of Hosts) was all around me. We lovingly embraced. The only waving of hands in this service was the swaying of tree branches and the rhythmic movement of my fly rod as I swung it gracefully in the air, pointing it to El Elyon (Most High). Interjected in there were a few“prayers”…some, I must confess, were that the fish would take my fly….and I could set the hook quickly enough. I had a baptism that day. I took a fall, but only to be partially immersed, and then come forth to fish again—Yahweh-Rapha (The Lord Heals). I laughed; all creation chimed in with me. And we had communion that day too. Not unleavened bread, but green chili burgers (“dressed” as we say in N’awlins) and chips we ate. Not wine, but cool water we drank.
The congregation of the day was small, but diverse indeed: There was my “brother,” Tom. There was our “certified fly fishing guide dog,” Niko. And our human fly fishing guide, Marcus, led the way. There were the spirits of many who had worshiped in those waters before. No preacher was there, just the Spirit of the One who dwells within. And, there were the “rainbows” and “browns”— trout they are. As I caught and released them, I was able to momentarily admire their beauty. As I held them in my hands, I could feel the life within. We had wrestled together for a few minutes. Then, the fish’s life was in my hands….but they were hands that cared for it and wanted life for it. For a brief moment we were together as one. Then I gently caressed the fish, held it ever so gently in the water, allowed it to regain its strength, and then released it…a rebirth so to speak…hoping we would meet again at church on another day.
I was drawn to remember my journey with the great I AM. The pneuma I breathed that day was cool, fresh, and clean. As I inhaled each breath I sensed the very breath of God enveloping my soul. As I departed my “favorite church,” My mind thought, “It was good to be down by the riverside.” My body had a new pace. My spirit rejoiced. My heart was filled with gratitude. My vision was renewed. I was ready to go back into the world for another foray. I am ready to go back another day.
Paul E. Robertson
November 1, 2017