Article June 2, 2008 Issue

THE TRANSFORMING POWER OF THE CHRIST

BY CHANNING WALKER

The simplicity of the moment stays unbroken as the first whispers of dawn start to come on. Everything in this mountain valley—the trees and the random boulders, the mountains themselves in the background—remains, for now, in colorless silhouette.

An artist might render the scene in shades of gray. A mist hovers just above the lake. A rare eagle, which nests on the opposite shore along with its mate, circles well above the mist. I slip my kayak onto the water and, paddle in hand, pull for the far end of the lake. The eastern sky behind me grows pale. The waters beneath me remain a slate gray. I know that later this morning a scattering of fishermen will rim the lake, and a few boats may putt across its surface. But for now I'm alone. It's just the eagle and the lake and the mist and me.

I think of morning moments on another lake in another time. Jesus' disciples, not yet able to grasp the world-changing impact of the resurrection, had returned temporarily to their predisciple ways. They were fishing, but without success. The Master, at first unrecognized, stood on the shore with fish at hand for his students. Then they met with him and were, yet again, profoundly changed.

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