on the sea.
Morning on the Sea of Galilee, Israel.
The waves of life can break our souls if our gaze breaks from eternity.
Sometimes, it need not be a wave but a sprinkling of rain which allows the doubt to seep in. If I were honest with myself though, it is not the dim moments that make my foundation want to give. It is the mundane moments of nothingness, when life is not bad but also not extremely good, that I shift into the my-ness—my way, my things, my thoughts, my life.
I wonder if God finds us, me, foolish. No, I think He must. He, the Creator. Me, the created. The absurdity of me thinking I own all that is His. I cannot even control my breath, other than to hold it and wait expectantly for His timing. Like a child patiently, or not so patiently, dependent. I think about the six times I was solely responsible for a tiny life. That life demanded so much for one so dependent. He/she did not care what I was attempting to accomplish. Oh Lord, I am beginning to see the parallels of Your truths.
It still humbles me that He allows us into the human being making process. As if He really needs our procreation when He can continue to mold us out of dirt and ribs. But He works it all into Him, pointing to Him in the most obvious of subtle ways. That thought sticks to me like a persistent, flimsy cellophane.
“Immediately the father of the boy cried out, “I do believe; help my unbelief!”
To be shored up by Him. That is where I think I need to stay. In all honesty, there is no other place to go with my doubts. He proves them wrong every time they slowly begin to roll to the surface as I try to fight the ripples. Would you look at that, Lord? Always on time with those reminders that I am not; but you are the I am.