Returning from a Presbytery meeting last week, I drove back through Crater Lake National Park, and was amazed at the striking beauty of the place. Walking to the rim of this huge volcano that had exploded thousands of years ago, one could see the deep azure blue of the water, the far shore a long way off. This is one of the deepest lakes in the world, taking its color both from the depths and the reflection of blue sky above.
Early theologians put a name to our sense of encountering something of the divine creator through the beauty of nature, calling it “general revelation” (contrasting it with God’s special revelation given us in Christ). Looking at the still depths of the lake, with snow still along the shoreline, the words of the Psalmist echoed, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
In the midst of full days, there is a need for each of us to return to the quiet places of the heart, in nature, or in memory; those places where stillness quiets all that clamors for our daily attention, and we can hear again the still small voice of the God who loves us.
Looking at Crater Lake, there was a sense as well of the amazing restorative power of God through creation. Here, at the rim of what was once an erupting volcano, with a tumultuous power that reshaped the landscape of the whole region, there was now the peace of blue water, the wind making patterns on the placid surface. Over so many years, the quiet rains had come, pooling in the crater; bringing life-giving water to a once parched landscape.
Perhaps there is a metaphor here for our lives, that in the places where there have been turbulent eruptions, events that have reshaped the contours of life as it once was, God may sculpt something of beauty out of the very place that had known such upheaval. God may come with his life giving water, filling the place that had been left empty with his presence and peace.
As this has been true at times in our lives, so may it be true in the life of our church. As we continue through the interim journey of transition, we are aware
A Letter from the
