To Infinity and Beyond

Yesterday we had a brush with infinity. My wife and I were hiking along the Skógá River above Skogafoss, one of Iceland’s most striking waterfalls.

The falls are post-card perfect – an impressive 60 meter sheer drop (higher than Niagara) into a thundering pool (often with a double rainbow effect). The rugged rocks on either side and the jet-black sand on the flat plain along the river below the falls give a dramatic framing. No wonder legends of buried Viking gold grew up around this place; no wonder tourists shoot a zillion photos.

Climbing 380 steps to see the falls from above drew us into an adventure of discovery. A stile over a fence at the top beckoned us further up and further in. Little did we know the wonders that awaited.

Island Get-Away

This week my wife and I are tourists enjoying the delights of Iceland.  The name of this country has nothing to do with ice; it is simply the Icelandic word for 'Island'.  In the history of language the English added an 's' to the Germanic word 'eiland' meaning 'land surrounded by water', but the 's' has never been prounced.

Islands are defined by more than just the water that surrounds them.  Alcatraz and Babados have very different connotations.  Robben Island became known to the world as the prison where Nelson Mandela spent 18 years being shaped into the leader he became. 

Deep Calls to Deep

My previous post, As the Deer, reflected on the power of thirst as the writer of Psalm 42 said As the deer pants for steams of water, my soul thirsts for you O God.

Just a few lines later the writer's language shifts and he imagines himself in a middle of a raging river - “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me” Psalm 42:7. From 'parched soul' to 'deluge' in less than a minute.

Turbulent water can knock you off your feet, all right. Every year all around the world we hear tragic stories of people being swept away by the current of rivers. But what prompts the psalmist to shift so radically from thirsting to drowning?

Thundering Hallelujahs

Iguazu Falls, Argentina

Three times in the closing book of the Bible, we hear the cascading roar of rushing water.

The first ‘waterfall’ in the opening scene was the powerful voice of the Living Christ, giving the story-teller John a message of comfort and hope to his suffering church on earth.

The sound and sight of water cascading down rocks or thundering over the lip of a precipice does something to you. It soothes and energizes you at the same time. The water seems almost alive as it rushes forward and down – always down – almost like it was on a mission. Jesus, of course is the ultimate waterfall, plunging headlong into the mission of salvation for the whole of God’s creation.

The Roar of a Waterfall

There’s a distinct sound reverberating across Canada today. It's Election Day.

After weeks of political speeches, debates, promises and threats, millions of voters are going to get the last word. It’s called democracy – a flawed system to be sure, but better than most other ways of governing in our world.

In the days of imperial Rome, John, the last-surviving disciple of Jesus, was a political prisoner. The emperor and his regime feared the truth about Jesus and tried to silence John’s witness by exiling him to their version of Alcatraz or Robben Island, the Aegean island prison of Patmos.

A voice like a trumpet shattered John’s solitary reverie one day. Whirling around to see who was speaking, John was stunned speechless by a vision of Christ and by the sound of his voice – which thundered like ocean waves or the roar of a cataract.