Volume 26, Number 46
December 2, 2001

JOURNEY BEHIND THE FALL

   It was the day Niagara’s thunder echoed into an eerie silence.

   On July 12, 1969, the American side of Niagara Falls went from torrent to trickle.  It was like someone turned off a giant tap.

   In reality, U.S. Army engineers had built a dam of rock and fill, cutting off the water from the mighty cataract.  Authorities wanted to slow erosion and improve the look of the Falls.  

   That’s understandable because 12 million visitors a year come from all over the world to see Niagara’s power and glory.  Every minute, enough water to fill a million bathtubs plunges almost 20 storeys over the edge, sending a spectacular spray into a rainbow-riven sky.

   But there’s an unseen side to Niagara Falls.  Each day, 80,000 tons of minerals and sediments sail over the brink at 20 miles an hour --enough to fill 1600 rail cars.  So when the Army interfered with Niagara’s dazzling flow, dirt and debris were laid bare.  It wasn’t a pretty sight,  Boulders and giant shards of broken shale littered the base of the gorge. Once the novelty wore off, there wasn’t much to look at.  Almost everyone was relieved when the man-made diversion was destroyed after four months and the water roared back to its rightful place, covering the mess with a mighty, mesmerizing cascade.

   In the end, officials decided to leave the debris at the bottom of the Falls because it would cost too much to remove the mammoth stones.  Besides, the fallen rock shores up the rest of the cliff’s fragile face.

   It’s much the same situation in my personal life where, at least metaphorically, I keep repeating the diversionary tactic of the Army engineers.  When I don’t interfere with the surging flow of Living Water set in motion from the very beginning, the limitless grace and glory of God flood magnificently across every facet of my being, creating a beautiful power and capacity not my own.  It’s a roiling, unrelenting process that creates both tumult and a sense of serenity at the same time, but the attraction of God’s holy will at work is hypnotic for those who watch.  

   What they don’t see is the continual purification that occurs as the Holy Spirit carries away a constant flow of mud and sordid sentiment dredged from the bottom of my heart -- until, that is, I deliberately divert the cleansing flood with a dam of sin, pride and self-centredness.  And then, for all to see, the debris and brokenness is fully exposed.

   We all want to project a better image.  But once we recognize the full extent of the failure and selfishness that litters our lives, we quickly see we’re unable to clean up the mess by ourselves.  So Jesus does it for us.  But not by removing every trace of pain and turmoil from our past.  Sometimes he leaves those in place to remind us of his goodness to us, even going so far as to use the hulking remains of former afflictions as a source of strength for the here and now.

   But he covers everything over with a deluge of love, peace and power.  That flood doesn’t merely hide what’s gone before, it transforms it into a grand display of God’s unending grace.  I was reminded of that during the Journey Behind the Falls, a trip through two tunnels built in 1889 to take lantern-led visitors behind the Falls on the Canadian side.  Just seven feet high, those tunnels still take tourists on a thunderously close encounter with the famous precipice.

   The first exit takes you to a wind-whipped, water-sodden observation deck right alongside the plunge pool with its constant, crashing crescendo.  But I was much more moved by a second portal behind the Falls, through which we could see the crushing sheet of Niagara’s water pass over with awesome yet innocent power, directly in front of us.  For me, it was a symbol of Jesus’ blood -- and a simple reminder to avoid every damming experience and embrace life, not on the edge, but under it.

By Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, Brantford, Ontario, Canada.  Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications.