I found myself out upon the waters, the waves and breakers crashing. I left my fear back inside the boat and my trust unfolded in front of me—"a trust without borders."
A Holy presence circled around me, calling me further into the unknown.
But Jesus did not appear out the darkness. He didn't walk across the stormy waters.
Or did he and I couldn't see above the waves? Was I sinking? Drowning? Was my soul in peril, consumed by my doubt?
Doubt looks like my everyday—it's the familiar and the safe, it's the known and the controlled.
Water-walking sticks out in my reality. How about yours? It makes no sense; neither does faith. Faith finds us lost and violent, but yet, alive. It carries us toward our love, the object of eternal goodness. Woe to the one faith finds stuffed and vacant, not lost nor violent, but pure nothing.
It's only out here, in the violent mystery of the unknown that my faith finds resonance—echoing into the realm of the above. "Voices are in the wind's singing" or is it just a singular voice calling through my drowning.
He finds us flailing, calms our arms and sets us on the path to the above. The world ends for most in a trickling "whimper." But not for me, not today. I will flail and rise, because your hand seized mine. You pulled me up threw me up into the mysterious above, where your fiery messengers sing in rapt worship.
I know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. I hear it rustling through the trees, but I have no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next. That’s the way it is with everyone ‘born from above’ by the wind of God, the Spirit of God. (John 3:8)
Today's Prayer: Set my feet upon the deeps. Make water-walking my everyday.
Check out the new FREE eBOOK my friend, Jason Locy, and I have just released. It's called The Sound of Silence: A Short Book on Rest.