25 or more years ago I invited a friend who is a professional watercolor artist to spend a week at our waterspouts camp teaching the youth to express themselves in his artistic media. He had me buy inexpensive watercolor paints and brushes and a copious supply of watercolor paper. The camp I directed in those days focused on teaching Christian community in the midst of a fairly intense week of outdoor activities. All of the campers were taught basic water safety and received their CPR certification on the first day. Then there were three days with rotating focus, with one group learning basic canoe paddling, one group getting an introduction to windsurfing and a third group learning small craft sailing. The groups rotate activities each day. The fifth full day of camp was a whitewater raft trip down the north fork of the Payette river. We began and ended each day with worship designed and led by campers. With all of the other activities, there wasn’t much time for the campers to paint. Each camper had an hour of small group instruction during the week and access to the watercolor materials during their free time, which was only about an hour a day.

I was amazed at the incredible paintings that were produced by the creative hands of the youth who participated in the camp. A little more than half of the campers had ridden a bus from Portland, Oregon to attend the camp. Most of them were from the city. The high mountain country of Idaho meant a dramatic increase of altitude for them and the intense outdoor activities meant that they were pretty tired when they headed for their cabins each evening. The days were long and intense. But somehow they found time to produce some incredible paintings.

I’m no artist. I’ve tried my hand at painting, but never developed skill as an artist. Still, I appreciate painting very much. Since our seminary days, when we had access to the Art Institute of Chicago, I have had the opportunity to view many incredibly well-done paintings. These days, the Black Hills Watercolor Society meets in our church and I enjoy visiting with the artists and viewing their work. I have several paintings by those artists as well as a couple from others. There is one painting by my Idaho watercolor artist friend that has been in our home for more than two decades.

Yesterday I began the day with what seemed like a return to those waterspouts camps of long ago. This time, instead of working with the youth and looking at their paintings, I went paddling in a watercolor painting. I paddle in Sheridan Lake 30 or more times each year and I know the lake very well. But yesterday it surprised me with a new mood and a delicious new beauty.

It had rained the night before and the day dawned with low clouds hanging in the hills. I left home around 5 am and was at the lake a little before 5:30. Although it was nearly 60 degrees, the morning felt chilly and a bit cold, so instead of paddling an open canoe, I unloaded a kayak from the roof of my car and slipped into a spray skirt. The geese were all on the bank and they set out into the water as I walked down with my boat.

It was absolutely calm as I began my paddle. I was almost hesitant to make the quiet sound of dipping my paddle into the water because it was so quiet. The geese weren’t making any noise. There were no other birds singing. The campers were all asleep. There were no fishermen out yet. I paused in the middle of the lake to take pictures, and I got enough photos to remind me of the paddle, but they don’t do justice to a world that is painted with water vapor. It was an amazing blend of blues and grays and greens. The camera tends to cut through the mist a little bit, whereas your eye can detect both the water vapor in the air and the distant hillside. With the flat water there was a perfect reflection of the world above the water on the surface of the water. It was as if I were sitting on a giant mirror. Even as I write this paragraph, I know that my description falls as far short of the reality as do my photographs. I can’t describe the beauty that surrounded me.

All living beings are water. Our bodies are about 60% water by weight. the percentage is even higher when measuring volume. The tissues of our brains and muscles are composed of about 75% water. We cannot survive for very long without water. It is no mystery why the oldest and most deeply held sacraments of religion involve water. I know that it sounds a bit corny, but I’m convinced that I need to spend time close to water in order to maintain my sense of awe and wonder. Awe and wonder are important elements in the administration of the sacraments. And sacraments are at the core of my ordination. It is not just what I do. It is who I am.

Indeed it was an incredible gift yesterday to again be surprised by the water of life. Like all gifts of life it was fleeting. By the time I had paddled for a half hour a gentle breeze was starting to blow, the wind stirred the water and the glassy smooth surface became vibrant with texture. The sun began to burn through the mist and the clouds began to raise. The view was distinctly different as I paddled back towards the shore and loaded my boat onto the car for the trip home. Those who were launching their boats as I left the lake completely missed the experience that I was given - an experience shared with the geese and ducks, but with no other humans on that lake yesterday morning.

Sometimes words are insufficient to describe glory.

I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.