Relaxing at the same corner that was a moment of pleasure thirty-five years ago is an odd experience. On one hand it is a moment of relaxation with all that these moments can bring. The world around you is at peace. The scene is idyllic with a river flowing fighting against the tidal flows, trees shading one against threatening clouds, and couples posing at their special spot for a picture to record the new memory. Everything is resting gracefully in the present except for the memories of days gone by. As I shut my eyes I am standing in this exact spot negotiating for a fresh orange juice delivered in a plastic bag with a straw. The heat then was overwhelming but I was full of hope. The hustle and smells were overwhelming but I cannot recall that this was anything more than a footnote to the experience. The juxtaposition of being full of hope and quenching my thirst focused the record of the moment to embed itself deep into my soul.
Why one moment in three years of living in Singapore decades ago would be fresh every time I stand on this one spot I will never quite understand. I do know that the experience and associated memory is a tool that continues to bring me new lessons. It is as if Divinity reaches out and utilizes whatever is available to touch, nurture, and bring the hearts of God’s children back to itself.
The willingness to use whatever is at hand isn’t new. In a story of old still ritual washing pots became vehicles for a miracle. The story goes like this. “Six stoneware water pots were there, used by the Jews for ritual washings. Each held twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus ordered the servants, “Fill the pots with water.” And they filled them to the brim.” (John 2.6, 7)
You and I have standing invitation to be vehicles of God’s miracles. We can touch, nurture, and bring the heart of God to the lives of people we meet everyday. The invitation is standing, waiting.
