In the Mists of the Great Zambezi
My ears were filled with the roar of constant thunder; my face was covered with the mist of ancient waters; my eyes were dazzled by the dance of momentary rainbows coming to life. I was but a wisp of humanity witnessing the majesty of God’s Creation, humbled by it all yet somehow empowered by it all.
The soul of Africa is found in this Eden known by most as Victoria Falls, a name ironically imposed by colonial powers who came late in the history of this vast continent’s beating heart. Here in the thundering mist and in the dancing rainbows one meets the spirit of this land; its way of hidden mystery, its way of untamed power, its way of somehow keeping touch with ancient origins. Here at the foot of Victoria Falls, one can become lost in Africa.
Here the great river, the great Zambezi, in one dramatic act of grandeur descends into a deeper realm to create out of itself something even more, something unexpected, something that reminds us that the river of God is filled with power. For miles and miles the Zambezi flows patiently, relentlessly, even sometimes lazily, then here at this fracture in the earth, the sheer weight of its eternal flow explodes into a few moments of mist and fog only then to reassemble itself as the flowing river once more.
And as I get lost in praise at the wonder of it all and in the wonder that I am alive to experience it all, a brilliant flash of sparkling blue dances before me. It is a butterfly, a tiny gossamer of sapphire. She seems too delicate, too fragile, to be in the midst of this brawny, awesome cauldron of overwhelming power, yet she holds her own. She accomplishes her flight. She even snatches my attention away from the mighty falls, making them but a background for her playful charm. Then I realize that this is her realm more than mine as I note that the mist of the great Zambezi tries to kiss her wings.
The majesty of God is found in equal share here in the heart of Africa in both the mighty river and in the mighty butterfly.
My ears were filled with the roar of constant thunder; my face was covered with the mist of ancient waters; my eyes were dazzled by the dance of momentary rainbows coming to life. I was but a wisp of humanity witnessing the majesty of God’s Creation, humbled by it all yet somehow empowered by it all.
The soul of Africa is found in this Eden known by most as Victoria Falls, a name ironically imposed by colonial powers who came late in the history of this vast continent’s beating heart. Here in the thundering mist and in the dancing rainbows one meets the spirit of this land; its way of hidden mystery, its way of untamed power, its way of somehow keeping touch with ancient origins. Here at the foot of Victoria Falls, one can become lost in Africa.
Here the great river, the great Zambezi, in one dramatic act of grandeur descends into a deeper realm to create out of itself something even more, something unexpected, something that reminds us that the river of God is filled with power. For miles and miles the Zambezi flows patiently, relentlessly, even sometimes lazily, then here at this fracture in the earth, the sheer weight of its eternal flow explodes into a few moments of mist and fog only then to reassemble itself as the flowing river once more.
And as I get lost in praise at the wonder of it all and in the wonder that I am alive to experience it all, a brilliant flash of sparkling blue dances before me. It is a butterfly, a tiny gossamer of sapphire. She seems too delicate, too fragile, to be in the midst of this brawny, awesome cauldron of overwhelming power, yet she holds her own. She accomplishes her flight. She even snatches my attention away from the mighty falls, making them but a background for her playful charm. Then I realize that this is her realm more than mine as I note that the mist of the great Zambezi tries to kiss her wings.
The majesty of God is found in equal share here in the heart of Africa in both the mighty river and in the mighty butterfly.
