We all like looking at waterfalls.  We like their effortlessness, we like their lilting, we like their seeming eternality.  Waterfalls capture our imaginations, conjuring images of all kinds, usually (unless we've had a traumatic experience with one) images of soothing, comfort, and peace.  When water flows freely, tumbling off a cliff, hurtling toward a lake, pool, or stream below, gravity its only master, we marvel.  We marvel at the mystery, we marvel at the sight.
     Waterfalls make their own music.  A few days ago, July 17th, marked the two hundredth anniversary of the first performance of George Frederick Handel's "Water Music."  A lovely, carefree piece, it evokes water's delight, the joy of a waterfall, the happiness of a flowing stream.  It sings of hope, it sings of promise, the hope and promise of meaningful presence in the world.
     Jesus once said that those who believe in him will experience "rivers of living water" flowing through them.  They will always find, he promised, a river of life, a life now, and a life beyond it.
     We all wrestle with the puzzles of existence, the conundrums of living in a broken world.  Sometimes it's difficult to see the river.  Sometimes it's hard to find the stream.
     But it's there.  As one who made no secret of his Christian commitments, Handel was well aware of this.  When next you listen to the "Water Music," consider its bigger point. Consider how water evokes eternality, consider how waterfalls speak of larger mystery. Then realize how much you have left, in this life, to know.
     Apart from an eternity, all the waterfalls in the world cannot really speak.