Smooth Stones

It seems like any time Tanya and I move to a new city a record or near-record-setting summer accompanies our arrival. Our first summer in Austin has been humid, hot, and almost rainless. I witnessed the effects of the lack of rain this week when I went for a hike along the Barton Creek Greenbelt. As I was walking along the trail it was obvious that there was supposed to be a flowing river next to the trail. But instead of cool rushing water, all that was present was a dried-up sandy river bed that was littered with smooth stones. At first, I was a bit disappointed. Everyone had been telling me how beautiful the green belt is. I knew I probably wouldn’t see any water, but I was still holding out hope. But that hope quickly faded with each mile I walked.

As I was walking, I started to look at the huge stones that were in the middle of the riverbed. The lack of water allowed me a rare opportunity to walk up to these boulders to see them more closely. I was able to run my hands over their smooth surface, a thing I could not have easily done if the river was full and flowing. These stones stood in stark contrast to the jagged rocks that made up the walls of the canyon I was in. My disappointment with the lack of water started to fade as I began to appreciate what I got to experience in the dryness of the riverbed.

As I sat there, I began to think about the thousands of years it took for the water to slowly smooth out these once-jagged rocks. It made me think about what was going on beneath the surface, what I couldn’t see, year after year, decade after decade, millennia after millennia. Through the painstakingly slow process of erosion, what was once jagged and sharp had been formed into something smooth to my touch.

As I continued my walk I started to think about my life with God. I often want the flowing water, and the beautiful scenery of life’s high points to fill my days, weeks, and years. I am often disappointed when I look at my life and all I seem to see is a dried-up river bed. But those dry moments can serve as an invitation to reflect on what God has been doing beneath the surface all along. The parts of me that used to be sharp and harmful to the people I love and care for have been smoothed out, almost unnoticeably, by the constant unchanging love of God in my life.

As I walked alongside the dried-up river bed each smooth stone in the river bed stood as an altar to God’s faithfulness through the dry seasons of my life. With each step in the sand, I thanked God for his love for me in Jesus. With each step, my attention shifted from what I was hoping for, cool flowing water, to what was before me at the moment, stillness among old smooth stones.

As I was walking, reflecting, and praying my ears suddenly perked up. In the middle of the silence, I heard the quietest trickle of water off in the distance. I paused to make sure I knew what I was listening to. I looked towards the sound but saw nothing. So, I moved closer to the sound. Still, I saw nothing.

I moved closer.

Nothing.

Closer.

And finally, after climbing up the dry river bed wall I saw a small stream of fresh water bubbling up from the ground. It had formed a little puddle and had started flowing into the river bed. I don’t know how many thousands of years it will take for that little stream to smooth out the rocks in its path. But with enough time and patience, it will happen. Maybe after many seasons of rain and drought, someone else may receive the gift of a dry river bed.

Grace and peace till we rise in glory.