Title: "The River Belongs to God"

Pastor Dean looked forward to the solitude and serenity of a morning kayak trip. The river was his refuge—a place where he could connect deeply with God, marveling at the beauty of creation. This particular morning was stunning, with a soft mist hovering above the water, and the golden sunrise casting a warm glow across the river. Wearing his familiar purple robe, a symbol of his faith and calling, Pastor Dean set out, the paddle slicing gently through the calm waters. As he moved downstream, he felt the weight of his worries fall away, a sense of divine peace filling him with each stroke.

Hours passed as Pastor Dean drifted with the current, finding joy in the river’s quiet beauty. Birds chirped in the trees lining the banks, and occasionally, a fish leaped from the water, its splash the only sound breaking the calm. He felt God’s presence deeply, as if the Creator Himself were floating alongside him. For a while, he simply closed his eyes, letting the river carry him, his thoughts in prayerful meditation.

Eventually, he spotted a shady bank that seemed like the perfect place to rest. Guiding his kayak gently to the edge, he carefully stepped out, letting the cool river water wash over his feet. He knelt by the water, hands clasped, offering thanks to God for the gift of this beautiful day and the stillness it brought to his spirit.

Just as he finished praying, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Startled, Pastor Dean looked up to see a large, rugged man storming toward him from the tree line. The man’s face was set in a hard glare, his fists clenched at his sides.

“What are you doing here?” the man barked, his voice rough with accusation. “This is private property. You’re trespassing!”

Pastor Dean rose slowly, offering a calm smile. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted gently. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m just here at the river’s edge, seeking a bit of peace.”

The man’s scowl deepened, and before Pastor Dean could explain further, the man lunged forward and grabbed his paddle from the kayak, holding it possessively.

“This is my land,” he said, his tone filled with a harsh finality. “You’ve got no business being here, and now I’m keeping this paddle to make sure you understand that.”

Pastor Dean took a deep breath, keeping his voice steady. “Sir, this river belongs to all of us. Under river laws, I have a right to be here, just as anyone does. God created this river for everyone to enjoy, and you have no right to take what doesn’t belong to you.”

The man scoffed, waving the paddle mockingly. “River laws? God?” He sneered. “The only law that matters here is that this is my property, and you’re not welcome.”

Feeling a pang of frustration but determined to remain peaceful, Pastor Dean extended a hand. “Please, I’m asking respectfully. Return my paddle, and I’ll be on my way.”

But the man only laughed. “I think I’ll hold on to this. Maybe next time you’ll learn to respect other people’s property.” And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Pastor Dean standing alone on the riverbank.

Pastor Dean watched him go, feeling the sting of injustice rise in his heart. He could feel the temptation to anger, the desire to shout after the man, to demand his paddle back. But instead, he closed his eyes, lifting his frustration to God, asking for patience and peace.

After a moment, he picked up his kayak, balancing it on his shoulder, and walked the long journey back to his car. The day’s peace had been disrupted, but he was determined not to let this moment steal his joy or his purpose. This river, he reminded himself, was still God’s creation. And even without a paddle, he had found a moment of divine connection there.

Back in town, Pastor Dean reported the incident to the authorities. He spent hours filling out forms and waiting in long lines, only to be told that because of the complex boundaries and the property owner’s rights, there was little they could do. The law, it seemed, could not help him.

Days turned into weeks, and Pastor Dean returned to the river without his paddle, improvising with other methods to continue his time on the water. Though he missed the ease of paddling, he found new ways to adapt, letting the current carry him or using makeshift tools. He realized that one man’s anger could not rob him of his peace or his love for the river.

Then, one morning, as he was preparing to leave after another peaceful float downstream, he saw a familiar figure standing by the water’s edge. It was the same man, clutching the paddle he had taken.

Pastor Dean approached slowly, his heart open but cautious. The man held out the paddle, looking ashamed. “I was wrong,” he muttered, barely meeting Pastor Dean’s eyes. “I thought about what you said... about God and the river. Maybe I don’t own everything I think I do.”

Pastor Dean took the paddle, nodding gratefully. “Thank you. God’s creation is meant to be shared, and I appreciate you seeing that.”

The man nodded, a glimmer of humility in his eyes. As he turned to leave, Pastor Dean reached out, his voice gentle. “I’d be happy to pray with you if you’d like.”

For a moment, the man hesitated, then nodded. Together, they prayed by the river, the man’s hardened spirit softened, his heart opened. As they finished, Pastor Dean felt a new peace settle over him, deeper and more profound than before. It was a reminder that, even in moments of conflict, God’s love could break through, bringing people together in the spirit of forgiveness and grace.

Epilogue:

Pastor Dean returned to the river regularly after that, his restored paddle a symbol of resilience and faith. He knew that, whatever he faced, God would guide him, even through the hardest trials. And as he paddled, he whispered a prayer of gratitude for a God who created rivers for all and who softened even the hardest of hearts.