I’ve often wondered why this is called the River of Shame. What unsavoury secrets does it carry at its base? Does it remember the people who moved away, leaving deposits of whatever they wanted to shed – burdens on their conscience, or proof of their involvement? Will the river remain a mute witness, or have a voice in the annals of history?
The Rock cries out to us today, You may stand upon me, But do not hide your face.
Own up, repent, seek forgiveness for acts committed in haste or ignorance.