Crossing the River
When you pass
through the waters, I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
Isaiah 43:2
(NIV)
A
few days ago I decided to take a walk to my daughter’s house. To get there I
have to cross the Auglaize River. When I was on the bridge that spans it, I stopped
for a few minutes and watched the water as it flowed swiftly towards the East.
It had rained and the water level was up.
As
I stood there, almost hypnotized by the water, (it has that effect on me) the
thought crossed my mind that if there was no bridge, I wouldn’t be able to get
to my daughter’s house that day. Swimming across the waters, or taking a canoe
as a Native American mother would have done were not options for me.
With
the river flowing beneath my feet that day, my mind also flashed back to a book
my mom read to me and my siblings when we were growing up. She would read it to
us in the evenings during “family altar” time. If you are unfamiliar with that
term, I’m sorry; it means you missed out on something very special.
The
book Mom read to us was Little Pilgram’s
Progress. It’s the children’s version of Pilgram’s Progress written by John Bunyan in 1678. It’s the story about a young man named
Christian. One day, he heard about a place called the Celestial City and
decided he wanted to go there. The story is the account of his journey to the
city that represents Heaven
Mom read that book to us at least
once a year, so the story has stayed with me--especially the last two chapters.
Chapter forty eight is called, “The End of the Journey.” (I know that because I have the book in my lap
now as I write this. It’s old and
tattered, and the pages are falling out of it, but it’s one of my most precious
possessions.)
Watching
the river last week reminded me of that chapter of the book. This is how it
starts: “Little Christian clasped his hands together as he felt the cold waters
of the Dark River rushing round his body. Hopeful (his friend) kept close to
him and tried to hold him up; but the little pilgrim soon lost his footing, and
cried out, “I’m sinking! The water is all going over me!”
The
account of them crossing their final river is one that still brings tears to my
eyes. As a hospice nurse, I have had the honor of sitting at the bedsides of
many men and women as they cross their own final rivers. I believe, if they too have taken the
same journey as little Christian, they will be able to open their eyes during
the crossing and feel the light from the Celestial City fall upon their faces.
Little Christian’s words from the middle of the river were these: “Oh I can see
it all now! It shines like the sun, and I heard the voice of the Prince. He
said, ‘I will be with you in the waters.’”
I
wonder sometimes if the story of little Christian’s crossing of the river led
to my decision to become a hospice nurse. I do know, because of my career choice, I am fascinated with end of life stories. The details of the soul’s
crossing from this life to the next vary a great deal, but certain common threads can be
seen. Typically, if there is water, it represents a boundary between this world
and the next. The crossing of that boundary does not involve a bridge like the
one I stood on last week. It involves faith that as we pass through the waters,
God will be with us.
© 2013 Brenda J. Young
(Author’s note: The 60th
anniversary copy of Helen L. Taylor’s Little
Pilgram’s Progress is now available on Amazon. I promise it will be the
best $7.75 you will ever spend)
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