It is March and the intermittent thaws send water flowing in the streets. Melting snow finds its path across roads, making its way into the lakes.
As I drive down Squam Lake Road, the water seems impatient with the customary routes of creeks and brooks. Water dashes in wide swaths across the road, seeking its rest in the mountain lake.
The sight stirs my soul. My inner being feels this way about God. My soul races toward God. I could not stop it any more than I could stop water from flowing downhill.
My soul seeks its home in God. My soul came from God and will return to God. In the meantime I sojourn here.
The soul is God’s. It is deeper and stronger than my mortal personality. It hungers for God. It flows from God. It empties into God.
I could not stop its flow if I wanted. But I do not want to stop it. Indeed, I wish to follow it to its Source. I ride the current of my soul like a twig carried by a river.
Revelation says there is a river that flows from the throne of God and flows through the streets of the New Jerusalem. I know what path it takes. It flows through my soul.