Past the water’s edge
I could watch them for hours. I don’t even know what they’re called. I just know they’re funny to watch.
They patrol the shoreline, their tiny little legs following each wave as the ocean sucks it back into the sea, and then running ahead of the next wave the ocean pushes onto the shore. It’s as if they’re afraid of getting their little bird feet wet. All day long they run back and forth, back and forth, pausing occasionally to gobble up some goodie they find in the sand, careful to run just ahead or just behind the waves. You can hardly see their legs at all, they move them so fast.
Once upon a time I was like them, although it wasn’t the earth’s ocean I chased. I wanted to be as close to the water as possible without actually getting my feet wet. The waves are powerful. And scary. They can sweep you off your feet and make you lose all control. You might even drown.
But the safety of the shore can become boring. The surfers and swimmers seem to be getting the better end of the deal. And life is short.
When hunger becomes stronger than fear, the door opens to the exhilarating power of the waves.
I like how Psalm 42:7 speaks of it.
Deep calls to deep in the roar of Your waterfalls; Your waves and breakers have swept over me.
It is breathtaking to feel the rumble of deep calling to deep.
I can no longer help myself. I wade out further and further until I am over my head. The power of the breaking waves that I once feared, I now crave. I don’t care if they knock me down. I don’t care if I lose control. I don’t even care if I drown. I want them to carry me to new heights and sweep me to deep places.
I want them to take me where I can’t go on my own.
And I want to be totally, completely, drenched.