Looking down at the gurgling swift current in the Rio Colorado, just fifty miles above the Brazilian border, I noted the clarity of the stream in the late afternoon light. A sand bar on which I stood, lent an air of Eden about the almost surreal scene, twenty five foot first growth jungle behind me, still latent in the change of atmosphere before the night drafts would pick up and rustle the leaves once more.

I looked up at the sky laced with feathery clouds, all suffused with the muted light of the fading afternoon. Beauty lay here in layers, light cream on hot chocolate of a Saturday night in a village before the fall of snow and the denizens preparing for slumber.

The river in its natural state would yield only the clues of the present, fallen from grace. In this moment, God's righteousness was imputed to my soul in my worship of the Lord here. I felt like quaffing a cup of the water, but dare not, since so many rare micro-organisms existed in every jungle river. Behind the languid depths, the ripples reflected a muted atmosphere of bent sky and color.

Only the righteousness of my faith maintained the flow in my heart. The river deceived with a skin of beauty, hiding the rapacious evil in its stream. Only my obedience maintained the barrier between me and likely illness, only God's righteousness guarded my heart against the often contracted illnesses of the missionaries in this verdant land. Only that stream of Justice from heaven's throne. Only my obedience to His commands let me live in peace.

The river rolled on while I dropped to my knees in prayer, in whispers of wonder....