The Golden Thread: Finding God in the Ever-Changing River

This morning, after some therapeutic yard work and soul-searching, I found myself wrestling with a question that's been nagging at me since I published "Why Are We Here?" What's my theme? What's my specialty? Where's my clear, focused research agenda?

The Golden Thread

I spent years as a professor with a laser-focused specialty. I knew my lane and stayed in it. But this daily writing practice—this spiritual discipline of showing up with whatever God has stirred in my heart—doesn't fit with academic writing.

Some days, I write about morning prayers or Murphy's Law, and on other days, I may write about Christian Modern Art, Church Hopping, or a simple Letter to God. One post might dive deep into the mysteries of God's Light, the next might be about our outreach for suicide survivors. Still others have focused on Christianity and Martial Arts, and a 3-Minute Faith Reset.

I was honestly starting to worry. Maybe I was scattered. Maybe I lacked focus. Maybe I needed to find my niche and my "tribe."

Then, in conversation with a friend, they asked about the "golden thread" running through my work, and suddenly I saw it—not with my analytical mind, but with my spirit's eye. The image that came was a flowing river.

And with that image came the words of Heraclitus:

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he's not the same man."

There it was. The Golden Thread.

Our walk to Emmaus—this pilgrim journey we're all on—is the metaphorical river. It's the ever-changing culture and world we live in, but are not of. It reflects the sanctification process we're undergoing, where the old man is gone and the new man is here, but even the new man, if he isn't content with milk, is ever-changing toward the likeness of Christ.

The Golden Thread isn't a topic or a theme—it's the unchanging nature of God that flows through all change. God IS both the river and the thread.

As James reminds us,

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variation or shadow of turning" James 1:17.

This is why I can't predict what I'll write about each day. This is why my "specialty" can't be contained in an academic box.

As Scripture reminds us,

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" Ecclesiastes 3:1.

Each day, God asks us to step into a different part of the river, and we never know what we will step into.

Sometimes it's water so crystal clear we could drink from it with a straw—those moments when everything makes perfect sense, when Scripture leaps off the page, when prayer feels as natural as breathing.

Other times, we step into water that plunges us down into the abyss—seasons of doubt, loss, spiritual dryness, where we're gasping and struggling to tread water.

And sometimes we step onto slimy green kelp that wraps around our leg and doesn't want to let go—those persistent sins, those old habits, those wounds that keep festering when we think we've healed.

But here's the reality: whether the water we step into is polluted or crystal clear, it's all good training for the believer who walks the narrow road. Each condition teaches us something different about trust, about surrender, about the character of our unchanging God.

And here's something that's not easy to admit—sometimes the river is crystal clear, but we are the pollutant! As we used to say in the military when someone lost their military bearing: "At ease, disease, there's a fungus among us!"

God has a quirky way of letting us know when we're "all wet," and spiritual maturity includes the ability to laugh at ourselves when we're the ones stirring up the sediment. Side note for the scuba divers among us: If you've ever been on a perfect dive until some guy creates a silt-out, you understand what I'm referring to.

I'm writing to fellow believers who understand that our journey isn't an academic exercise or a Sunday school curriculum to be endured. It is God's flowing river that must be navigated. We're the Fellowship of the Unashamed, who've outgrown milk and hunger for solid food—those whom Scripture describes as

"the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil" Hebrews 5:14.

We want that deep engagement with God's Word while walking the virtual road to Emmaus. You may find some of us in a contemporary church, but it's more likely you'll bump into us on a walking path in the middle of nowhere or while reading the Bible in a coffee shop downtown.

We don't need another seven-step program or a neat theological system. We need real pilgrims who actually run the river... shoot the rapids... with us.

Fellow ambassadors of Christ who know what each different kind of water feels like, who've learned to trust the lifeline that God and His holy angels always provide if we get in too deep.

So no, I don't have a specialty in the traditional sense. What I have is what God gives me: a daily invitation to step into His ever-changing world, ever-constant river, and report back what I find.

Some days the water is deep, while others are shallow. Some days it's murky, while others sparkle in the sunlight.

But it's always the same river. And it's always the same God. And that's the Golden Thread that connects it all.

The river keeps flowing, we keep changing, and God remains faithful through every step of the journey.

There's always something to write about when you're writing to, about, and for the One who is both the river and the thread, the journey and the destination, the Word that was in the beginning and the Word that will have the final say in the end.

Come on in. The water's fine.

Fellow pilgrims, what kind of water are you stepping into today? I'd love to hear about your part of the river in the comments below.