I am not one prone to enjoy what I consider the trashy touristy things in life, so it was with a real sense of reluctance that I agreed to visit there at all. However, She Who Must be Obeyed (both of them) insisted that we take the time during our Ontario deputation tour to visit Niagara Falls.
We found a parking lot three or four blocks uptown from the walkway that goes along the river towards the falls. This necessitated a stroll through downtown Niagara, the real trashy touristy part. I was filled with cynical and critical comments like, “See, I told ya so!” as we walked past wax museums, theatres, casinos, restaurants and horror houses, all dedicated to lifting the dollars out of tourists' pockets. Bud, our Lab, wasn't impressed either. He growled at one grotesque figure at the door of a house of horror and then cocked his leg on it. “Good dog!” I said, feeling he had spoken well for both of us.
Finally, we got down to the walkway that winds along the Niagara River towards the Canadian Horseshoe Falls. At first I could see them in the distance. “They are bordering upon pretty,” I conceded, as we got closer. The girls insisted that we push on. Bud and I relented.
Soon we were about 400 metres from the Horseshoe Falls. Yes, they were pretty, but no more, really. I was ready to get on with our journey to St. Catharines, and said so. The girls insisted upon walking closer. Reluctantly I followed. “What a waste of time,” I whined. “We've seen the falls, let's get on with the business of the day.”
By the time we were within 100 metres, I was still pretty much thinking in terms of the words of that great Canadian bard, Shania Twain: “This don't impress me much.” Linda and Chelsea insisted that we walk right up to the head of the Horseshoe Falls, the edge, the crest. Bud and me, well we didn't have much choice, both being on leashes of one kind or another. And so we walked up the sidewalk to the very crest of the Horseshoe Falls, to the railing right at the leading edge. Here, the mighty Niagara River was slipping off into oblivion right under our toes.
At this point, as to Niagara Falls, I had what I could best describe as a conversion experience. My whole perspective changed. Standing at the very edge of the Horseshoe Falls with the enormous volume of water of the massive Niagara River (6 million cubic feet per minute actually) cascading 18 storeys over the crest right below my toes overwhelmed me. Standing at the very edge and looking out around the crestline of their incredible full horseshoe shape, the sheer length and breadth and size of the falls left me awestruck. (The crestline of the Canadian falls is approximately 670 metres, or 2,200 feet, long.) Standing at the very edge and hearing the tumultuous roar of the water as it races over the falls at about 112 kilometres per hour, experiencing the earth rumble beneath my feet as the force carved out a plunge pool that is as deep as the falls are high (56 metres), feeling the spray pouring off my cowboy hat, nose and face; well, there is no way to put it but to say that it overpowered me.
You can only get this perspective of the Niagara Falls up close and personal. Up close and personal with Canadian Horseshoe Falls at Niagara, all the trashy tourism in the streets of the human city a few blocks away was erased for me. All of the distractions of the horses and carriages and sightseeing buses and tour boats and helicopter flights buzzing over and around the falls; all this stuff going on around me seemed to vanish. All of the mere prettiness of the falls that I saw as I walked up to them and viewed them from a distance evaporated. And I was left to contend with the sheer raw power and glory and majesty and terrible beauty of the falls, in what I can only describe as a personal encounter. As to the falls, I was converted, at some level even changed. I left my complacency and my cynicism and my critical spirit there at the leading edge of the falls.
Bud and me, we stood there for what must have been a half hour or so, almost unable to pull ourselves away, both of us getting soaked through and through with the power and majesty and the icy blast of spray, while the girls went into the gift shop across the lot and purchased souvenirs. Personally, I had no need of any; none would suffice as a token for what I had experienced.
Later as I silently drove us out of the city of Niagara heading for St. Catharines, I could not help but allegorically compare my experience of Niagara Falls with my experience of God. Kept at a distance, God seems attractive, even pretty, but I am easily distracted from Him by the trashy parts of my life. Kept at a distance, God seems almost overpowered by all the stuff on the streets of my life. Kept at a distance, my complacency, cynicism and critical spirit, all the stuff of a prideful, egocentric life, is safe from God. Kept at a distance, I know I won't be changed much by Him. I think that's why God refuses to be kept at a distance. God becomes flesh and dwells with me and yells into my face in the language of two Testaments: “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” (Jm. 4:8, see also Zech.1:3 and Mal. 3:7) And in the language of two Testaments, the promise is that drawing near to God, in all His power and majesty and glory, will convert and cleanse and change me. And God knows, I need to be converted, cleansed and changed, not just once in my life, but daily.
And as I drove away from Niagara Falls I became convinced, in a way that I have never been convinced before, of how much I need to make a daily walk to stand right before God, right at the edge of His throne. For me, the way of doing this is so simple and biblical. It has to do with being still and being silent and being alone before God. It has to do with taking a moment, about a half hour a day, and obeying God's command to “Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.” Indeed, as the Psalmist concludes, “The Lord of hosts is with us …” (Ps. 46:10-11b)
