There was a time once when my faith was as deep as the ocean.
Calm and cool and secure beneath the ebb and flow of life. Seldom shaken. Never tossed about. Never pulled out to see or drifted rapidly off course.
There was a time once when I breathed in the very breath of God and rested secure amidst the storm.
Recently I feel I’ve been drawn slowly to the surface. Where the rain pelts relentlessly. Where the sound of the storm is amplified by the endless water around me. And the waves seem so much bigger and so much more terrifying than when I dwelt in the safe, unmoving depths below.
And I feel things I didn’t notice so much before.
Like fear. And anger. And frustration. Like insecurity. And helplessness. And overwhelmed by the slightest shift in the current.
But this morning I walked along that beach. Heels pressing white into the sand. Waves rolling gently up over my toes. Sun gleaming orange on a calm horizon…
hours before the storm. And the day. And the overwhelmed heart.
And I remembered the days of faith. Deep trust and conviction. Walking boldly next to my Savior. Not feeling like I needed carried nearly so often as I do now.
And then I saw it.
The clouds moving slowly across the sand. The gray morning sky flickering over rocks and shells.
And my soul sighed.
Because no matter how shallow and helpless I feel. No matter how shaken and wavering and overwhelmed I become.
No matter how my faith wears thin.
I am still able to reflect His Glory.