Oceans Deep

As we walked towards the waves rolling, giving the water a toe check, I looked towards all the blue. Looking out on the water.  Far.  Limitless.  Deep.  Freedom.  The water felt strong and brushed over my feet angry, carrying sharp, broken shells.  Taking the sand from beneath me.

"Sweetie, be careful. The water is strong." I said offering up only one cup of weak coffee answers.

Then I realized like every home school mom, I could make this a lesson.  Not take the easy way out and give lazy, pat answers.  "I mean the water is not strong in itself, the current is strong."

We've talked about rip currents.  My husband dutifully teaching my swimmer girls how to swim parallel out of the current.  Not to fear going in the dark ocean for fear of the jellyfish.  That everything in life requires risk and most of the things we worry about never come to pass.  Play in the waves.  Sing songs and throw your head back and laugh and get sandy.  Go all in.

I repeated the same thing when my little girl asked me to fish for minnows. "The current is strong. It is hard to catch them right now. Just wait."

Water is not strong. It is alive and carries microorganisms and parasites to inflict harm. Carries disease when it is stagnant. Alive and moving it carries life through our bodies and is critical for our well-being.

The current of Gods love is unstoppable. Like the minnow you get caught up in this divine love. You have to fight your way to stay in the current. 

Sometimes you swim alone. 

But you are always always carried by his love. The current protects you from the one who walks around like a roaring lion to devour you. It makes you harder to catch.  In fact, in this Great Love we can never be plucked away from God.

There's freedom in the current. I am swept up to the divine plan for my life. It does not require me to conspire, but dream. It is an active faith and one that is expectant for this love power current.

God is moving. He is working. Am I looking? Have I stepped out bravely to swim in the deep?  To follow Jesus in the dark, to stay with him there even when you quiver a bit, transforms you to brave.  Makes you confident, not leaning on crutches that will fail you, but a Savior who redeems.

I'm taking swim lessons as an adult. I look like and feel like a, well, a moron in my swim cap and goggles. I take them anyway and listen to my teacher.

I'm signed up for a triathlon in the fall knowing full well my money is on my college friend, the gymnast, diver, who is joining me on this adventure. Who I told to swim on, bike on, run on, and cheer me on at the finish.  I'm telling her to please win the race.  I'm telling God, please may I just finish and not die, dear Lord.

I carried my book proposal to two publisher meetings, sharing not only my shortcomings, opening my heart up like surgery, but also the story of my right fallopian tube, and a baby dream that never was. I spoke with a quiver and a shake.

I presented my proposal to a publisher.  She read my words and cried.  This story. This message of divine hope through loss.  It connects two separate lives and one professional, suited up stiff to bring good stories to market, one mom in need of grace who is there because of obedience to this love call, not really sure how she got there to begin with, only knowing the One who called her.  Uncertain to where it might end up but the experience, the change, is what drives the ship.

His love current sweeps you up. It brings you to shepherd, to love, to extend grace.  From the shallow to the deep recesses of the heart.    

Like my husband when I forgot the beach bag.  Walking up to the dunes, a several block trek back to retrieve, "You've been through a lot the past two months. I'm going to get it. I understand."

Or the woman I met at the conference who was rescued from years of sex trafficking. She believes the only way she could forgive was from the only one who could forgive her fully, enough to die on a tree.  She bravely tells her story and is caught by this love.  Carried by this love.  Transformed by grace.

Grace measured at the cross.
Love strong enough to move stagnant waters.
Faith deep enough to dream.
Hope in the gray, glitter where the pain meets Jesus.

I am not worthy, Jesus. I am not worthy but may your love flow strong. Making the meek speak your name and hard hearts softened by your grace.