It started as a somewhat cryptic but no less alluring invitation. Three words, which were for me full of imagery and passion, stirring anticipation, inspiring romance because of who spoke them: “Sunrise. Tuesday. Wah-Sha-She.” They had come on Sunday as DeAnn and I were attending a church worship service. The church had thrown up onto the screen an image of a man on a rock facing a sunrise with his arms outfolded in reverence. It was then that God spoke, offering an invitation almost as if dropping off a lovenote: “Meet me there at this time. I want to see you. There’s something I want to show you.”
So, naturally, yesterday morning I arose early and headed off predawn to our predetermined rendezvous. I had been to Wah-sha-she State Park in northern Oklahoma only once before. It had been a cold but thrilling evening when DeAnn and I had found it by mistake while driving around in the Osage Nation Reservation. It was fall then, and the breeze was blowing in hard from the west across the water of Hulah Lake as we came onto the grounds. “Hulah” comes from the Osage word for “eagle,” and as I had stepped out of the Jeep onto one of those famous Osage boulders, the wind whipped through me and brought the sounds of a summer leaving, heading off into some distant gray haven, its voice promising a return through the evening’s energy.
And so I knew my way to this place, and I had timed it so that I would arrive as the sun rose in the east across the gentle rolling ridges of the plains. When I arrived, the sky had broken open only enough to allow mw me to find my way to the right spot on the grounds, waiting for me before bursting forth in all its glorious might just as I had prayed.
I found a hill from which to view the spectacle, and I felt it to be the place Jesus had meant earlier, our spot to meet. Saddled with my journal bag and armored in overalls, I trekked up the incline and found, to my great delight and utter surprise, beautiful and complex Osage rocks – boulders that looked misplaced up here on the rolling hillside – jutting here and there across the western edge of the slope, just at the apex of the ridge. They were the perfect size to sit or lay or climb on, and were flanked by woods behind and the rolling prairie before straight east running into the now rising sun. It was like theater seating for the event, only hidden from view to any who would pass by, and they themselves seemed to me as I reflect now the actual stage and the sun the spectator and we – the Spirit of God and me and our reunion there – the real affair itself. This had been planned, and all creation came onto this scene in perfectly timed harmony: the rising spectacle of light blazing the heavens in purple fire and baptizing the sky in glory the stuff only of artists and poets; the songbirds hidden in the grasses now caressed awake by the coming warmth; the clouds breaking away; the breath of wind on its heels like that from a passing storm.
The sunrise had no longer been the point. Oh, it was beautiful, to be sure. But its dazzling artistry was dwarfed by God’s extravagant character, its brilliant light shadowed by the splendor of the Father’s immediacy, its warm rays distant to the intimate embrace of the Spirit. My eyes had been set on the Great Romancer that had called me here.
I laid back on the rocks, absorbed and taken away by the presence and majesty of this Heart, and I laughed. It was hearty, and long, and unassuming, and shared. It’s better to say that we laughed, captured as it were by the affection and unity shared between us. This was something beyond worship, something approaching ecstasy.
The sun rose yet, and after more conversation, I left our place and headed back to the car. The sign on the entrance to the grounds stood as a reminder of a people who called this land home – “Wah-Sha-She” means “The Water People” in the Osage language. As I drove across Hulah dam, a song began playing in my head: “I wanna run with you. I wanna soar where eagles are scared to fly.” Just then, I turned to see a wintering eagle skimming the surface of the waters, a parting gift and promise from this Wild Lover God.
So, naturally, yesterday morning I arose early and headed off predawn to our predetermined rendezvous. I had been to Wah-sha-she State Park in northern Oklahoma only once before. It had been a cold but thrilling evening when DeAnn and I had found it by mistake while driving around in the Osage Nation Reservation. It was fall then, and the breeze was blowing in hard from the west across the water of Hulah Lake as we came onto the grounds. “Hulah” comes from the Osage word for “eagle,” and as I had stepped out of the Jeep onto one of those famous Osage boulders, the wind whipped through me and brought the sounds of a summer leaving, heading off into some distant gray haven, its voice promising a return through the evening’s energy.
And so I knew my way to this place, and I had timed it so that I would arrive as the sun rose in the east across the gentle rolling ridges of the plains. When I arrived, the sky had broken open only enough to allow mw me to find my way to the right spot on the grounds, waiting for me before bursting forth in all its glorious might just as I had prayed.
I found a hill from which to view the spectacle, and I felt it to be the place Jesus had meant earlier, our spot to meet. Saddled with my journal bag and armored in overalls, I trekked up the incline and found, to my great delight and utter surprise, beautiful and complex Osage rocks – boulders that looked misplaced up here on the rolling hillside – jutting here and there across the western edge of the slope, just at the apex of the ridge. They were the perfect size to sit or lay or climb on, and were flanked by woods behind and the rolling prairie before straight east running into the now rising sun. It was like theater seating for the event, only hidden from view to any who would pass by, and they themselves seemed to me as I reflect now the actual stage and the sun the spectator and we – the Spirit of God and me and our reunion there – the real affair itself. This had been planned, and all creation came onto this scene in perfectly timed harmony: the rising spectacle of light blazing the heavens in purple fire and baptizing the sky in glory the stuff only of artists and poets; the songbirds hidden in the grasses now caressed awake by the coming warmth; the clouds breaking away; the breath of wind on its heels like that from a passing storm.
The sunrise had no longer been the point. Oh, it was beautiful, to be sure. But its dazzling artistry was dwarfed by God’s extravagant character, its brilliant light shadowed by the splendor of the Father’s immediacy, its warm rays distant to the intimate embrace of the Spirit. My eyes had been set on the Great Romancer that had called me here.
I laid back on the rocks, absorbed and taken away by the presence and majesty of this Heart, and I laughed. It was hearty, and long, and unassuming, and shared. It’s better to say that we laughed, captured as it were by the affection and unity shared between us. This was something beyond worship, something approaching ecstasy.
The sun rose yet, and after more conversation, I left our place and headed back to the car. The sign on the entrance to the grounds stood as a reminder of a people who called this land home – “Wah-Sha-She” means “The Water People” in the Osage language. As I drove across Hulah dam, a song began playing in my head: “I wanna run with you. I wanna soar where eagles are scared to fly.” Just then, I turned to see a wintering eagle skimming the surface of the waters, a parting gift and promise from this Wild Lover God.
3 comments:
wow. i love the way He uses your words to show His heart, His intimacy.
there is something you should see. that sounds presumptuous, but it's not meant that way at all.
but don't take my word for it. if He gives you the go-ahead, check out my entry for feb 7th.
This reminds me so much of John Eldridge and his writings. God's nature is the greatest way to experience Him. To truly feel Him and know that He is such an adventurous romantic.
Whao! What fun!
I was drawn closer to God just reading this! What a blessing to read and be reminded of the times God seemed so close. Thanks Bri
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