God

There was suddenly water, blue, silver, and white, flowing swiftly and lavishly in what a moment before had been a rocky dry gulch I had been walking beside for hours. It did not begin with a slow trickle and build to a strong, flowing river. It did not rise from an underground spring and quickly fill the wide arroyo through which it now poured. And it did not charge through from upstream with the crash and roar of a flash flood. Rather, it was suddenly just there, a river forty feet wide, with rapids, and a voice speaking in tones of stout gurgles and muffled roars. Sunlight glistened off the curved waves dispatched by a thousand collisions of rock and water churning the rapids to a frothy white.

There were now deep and brilliant greens I had not seen before, the kind of abundant greens seen in the desert only when there is generous water. Trees, grasses, weeds, and plants, were growing profusely on either side of the new river. Trees gave shade and welcome respite from the midday sun. I looked back from where I had come, following a rocky desert trail which clung to the side of a large, eternally dry stream bed, the remains of an ancient river. Greenery and shining water now subverted my clear memory of miles of rocks, dust and the dry arroyo. With no warning, a river had taken my senses hostage, defying me to consider my physical state. Was it too much sun, too little water, a wrong turn on the trail? I sat down under one of the large, green trees, its branches holding the sun at bay. While the temperature had steadily risen to the one hundred degree plateau, I argued against myself that it could not be the sun. I had rested often in the shade of large rocks. I had drunk plenty of water, downed one or two energy bars, and even mixed a couple of batches of my old friend “gookenaid” (electrolyte replacement). The desert was also my friend. I knew all tricks, all the warning signs, and was always cautious. Mistakes in the desert carried a hard price. I had hiked this same trail many times before, each time following the familiar dry gulch the entire thirteen mile route to the campground near the highway. There were no turn-offs or side trails. I couldn’t be lost. No, this water had just appeared where there was none before, bringing trees, plants and even birds.

Yes, the problem was definitely too much sun, I thought, countering my own strong argument to the contrary. I needed to cool my body, get my temperature down, and stay out of the sun until I recovered. I poured water from one of the two canteens I carried onto a bandana and leaned back to place it across my forehead. I made a point of not using river water because I was still not sure there really was a river and, if there was, it might be polluted for one reason or another. Besides, I had plenty of water, because I always carried two canteens, each holding one gallon. One canteen was empty and the other was just below half full. With only a mile or so left, my water intake was on track.

The thirteen mile hike normally took four hours or so at a reasonable pace. The trail was difficult in many spots and the sun forced frequent stops in the shade. This day was particularly hot requiring more water than usual. But, I had been especially careful along the way to allow for the heat. No, it couldn’t be the sun, I thought, contradicting myself once again.

I had been sitting, leaning against the rock for several minutes. I had refreshed the wet bandana on my forehead with canteen water several times by then. The water wasn’t much cooler because the canteen, even with a cloth cover surrounding it, had become heated by the sun. But it seemed to help a little. I had started to once again moisten the bandana when I first noticed him. There was a man, sitting under a tree by the side of the water. He was staring directly at me. I don’t know why I didn’t see him before. He was in very plain sight. However, on this particular day, with not noticing the river with all its accompanying foliage until it literally erupted into my awareness, I was not surprised that I also missed seeing the man.

The man’s constant gaze was now making me somewhat uncomfortable. I was in the middle of what I thought was a case of a mild heat stroke, and a man was watching me intently, no expression on his face. Unnerving, that’s what it was. I began to stare back at this man, more in an effort to study him than to make actual eye contact and engage him in conversation. He seemed to be nearly a mirror image of myself, dressed in walking shorts, a loose long sleeved shirt, and hiking shoes (while boots with their ankle support would have been more appropriate for this type of trail, I chose the lighter, more comfortable hiking shoes to avoid the blisters that sometimes came with wearing the boots.). Why is this man watching me and who is he?

Those questions, and others I had not thought of, were soon to be addressed with the most unsettling of answers. A warm, sincere greeting of “Hello, Jim,” now came from this man. “Hello,” I hesitatingly volunteered back in his direction. “You’re wondering how I know your name,” he followed up, reading in my mind the next question which was to come, but was never necessary. “I know all about you Jim. You’re meeting your two friends Harry and John, and someone whom you’ve never met named Gerald, at the campground just up the river.” Things were beginning to get spooky now. He must be a serial killer and had just done away with the three of them but forced one of them to tell him where I was. Now he was going to dispatch me in some even more horrible way as he had more time to think about an even more creative way to do me in.

He laughed, again, reading my mind it seemed. “No harm will come to you, Jim. I am your friend, your very good friend.” He knew my thoughts and fears precisely. I didn’t even need to speak as he would answer my thoughts before I could put them into words. Finally, I was speaking to him. “Well, you know me but, I don’t know your name. Who are you?” “I am God,” came the reply. “Great,” I thought, Harry and John must have planned this little trick. “Well, God, you wouldn’t also go by the name of Gerald would you?” I asked, figuring this was actually the fourth member of our camping party. “No, Jim, I am not Gerald. I am God.”

I decided to play along knowing Gerald the God impersonator would relay the entire conversation to everyone over the campfire tonight, exaggerating my surprise and my reactions. Besides, it had been a very strange day so far and didn’t appear to hold the promise of getting any less so as time passed. “Well, God,” I then asked, “how did that river get here? I never noticed it before today and I have been here many times.”
“I just put it here today,” God responded, “so you and I would have a beautiful place where we could talk.” My “sun stroke” condition was obviously not improving much as I was not only still seeing the river and the trees, but was now also having a conversation with “God.” Mindful of my weakened state, I was becoming a bit irritated with Gerald the God impersonator. It was not so funny anymore, not that it had started with any particular hilarity. On the other hand, Gerald the God impersonator had anticipated all my questions, and, obviously, he too was very aware of the river, trees and birds. This could be much worse than I thought. This person is not Gerald, our new camping friend. This person is part of my sun stroked, heat induced, hallucinatory predicament. He is part of the mirage that I am living because I must have missed some cue along the trail telling me to slow down and spend more time in the shade. Severe sun stroke, that’s what it is. I’m going to be here for quite a while recovering from this sorry state.

“No,” Gerald, or God, or whatever his name was, assertively addressed me. “No, I am not Gerald. I am God, and that is a river, and those are trees. What you are seeing is very real! You have no sun stroke and you are wide awake and completely alert.” God was now the one getting irritated, at me! If he really was God, that would not be a good thing. “You’re right about that,” God replied to that statement I had not spoken. “You believe in me, don’t you, Jim?” In fact, I did believe in God and, if this was really him, he knew that. “I know that, Jim, God replied, in response, once again, to a statement I had not spoken.

Pushing my luck (not a good thing to do with God), I challenged, “Well, you don’t look like God.” “Oh, I don’t? he sternly retorted. “Well, how does God look, then?” I then proceeded to tell God that he was supposed to look like a strong, but older man, with flowing white robes, long white hair and a long white beard. He was not supposed to look like a fellow hiker. “So, you’ve seen God before I take it?” “Well, not exactly, but I’ve seen pictures of him,” I authoritatively stated. That validation of knowing how God looked did not go over any better than anything else I had said to that point. I decided my best course of action was to not say anything else, but instead, try to understand what God wanted with me. I still didn’t think I was really talking to God. I thought I was still suffering from too much sun or else Gerald, our camping buddy I had never met, was carrying a bad joke to an unreasonable extreme.

God was now losing patience with my inability to understand what was happening. “You don’t have any idea what is going on, do you Jim?” “No, God, I don’t.” “Jim, I am talking with you today because you truly believe that I exist. It is important that others also know that.” Now, I was slowly beginning to suspect that “something” just might be happening here. Could I really be talking to God? I decided to “test him” and ask if he wanted me to go and spread the word, but again, he answered my question before I could speak. “No Jim, you don’t need to spread the word. Everyone knows the possibility of my existence. It is up to each person to make a choice.” I decided that this really must be God, mustn’t it? “But, what religion is the right religion, God?” I further “tested” him. His reply shocked me completely. “In the big picture, all religions are right in believing in me, but some are wrong in the details. I will leave that to you to figure out. Besides, I don’t want to talk about religion because it depresses me.” With that answer, I now realized this had to be God. “You finally get it, Jim,” he said.

“Religion depresses you, God?” I almost asked him. Again, he answered before I could find the words, “Yes, religion depresses me because of all the differences of opinion people have about which religion is the “right” religion. What makes me happy are the river, the trees, a place for reflection and communication with God, that being me. That is what is important, not religion itself. Jim, one of your canteens is empty and the other is nearly empty. Go to the river and fill your canteens to the top. It is time for you to go.”

I walked over to the river which I now realized was real and filled both canteens to the top as God had commanded. I put my face down by the water and drank until I had no thirst. It was the best tasting water I had ever experienced. I looked over at God. He looked right into my eyes and said, “When you leave this place you will begin to have doubts you were here talking with me. Do not doubt our conversation. Do you understand?” I assured God I clearly understood and promised I would never doubt our conversation had happened. “Honesty and truth, Jim,” its all about honesty and truth. Those are the words that must be spread. Do you understand?” “I understand, God, and thank you.” “Good bye, Jim.” “Good bye, God.”

He was gone in a moment. Where he had been sitting, only the rock remained. I heaved my backpack up and slung the canteen straps around my neck. I didn’t want to leave that beautiful spot but, with my resting and speaking to God, time had seemed to move much faster than usual. I started the final phase of my hike. As I walked, the rushing river and lush greenery continued, staying with me that entire last mile to the campground.

When I walked into the campground, I easily spotted Harry’s family van. It was one ugly car, I thought, all gray and plain, just awful to look at. Then I saw Harry, John and the Gerald guy, who definitely did not look like God after all. Harry asked, “What took you so long?” “I got a little too much sun and had to rest awhile,” I told him. Harry came over and shook my hand. “Didn’t drink enough water, I bet” Harry offered. “Two canteens should be plenty but, there’s no where to fill up along the way. When you run out, then you’re out” said Harry, confiding the very obvious.

Harry was now helping me unload my gear and started lifting the canteens, throwing the straps off of my neck. “No wonder you got too much sun, Harry shrieked. You never drank any water at all. You must be crazy! By God, these canteens are completely full.” “No,” I replied, I drank plenty of water and filled the canteens in the river.” “There is no river,” Harry shot back at me in utter disbelief.” “Yes there is,” I objected. “Where,” Harry demanded. “Right over there,” I said, pointing to the flowing water. “You’re nuts,” Harry replied. I turned and looked toward the river and there was nothing, just the parched, rocky arroyo, the ancient dry stream bed that had always been there.

Harry never understood how I walked the torturous thirteen mile trail in one hundred degree heat and arrived with two full canteens. He was right about one thing however. There was no place along the way to fill a canteen. He almost figured out another thing. In fact, he even said the answer not realizing he hit the nail right on the head. “By God, these canteens are completely full.”

Even these many years later I still have never doubted that God talked to me on the side of the wide, rushing river. Do you?



Copyright,
James Wharton, Jan 20, 2009