Crashing
Waves
It loomed above me, this towering creature that must have measured at least five to six feet tall. I stared into its merciless jaws anticipating to be swallowed into the dark oblivion. I was terrified but I couldn’t make myself move because the beauty of the force before me froze my feet into place. After it had passed over me like I was nothing but another rock in its way, the wave crashed into the shore breaking into snowy white swirls around my toes, tossing sand, pebbles, and shards of shells to and fro. It was my first time playing in the waters of the frigid Pacific Ocean. I grew up in a land-locked state and my family never ventured toward the coast so this was quite a shocking experience, to see this “big wave” coast stretching out into the horizon. I was immediately intimidated by the size of these waves and recoiled when I found one of my best friends frolicking through the foam of what I deemed to be a very dangerous element. My eyes were vigilant and my muscles tense as I waited for the first sign of potential danger while she twirled and danced, carefree, through the waves.
I
continued to watch her as she squealed in delight and disappear briefly as the
waves broke over her head. I knew I was being slightly ridiculous and relaxed a
little, releasing the tension in my body. I timidly inched my way deeper into
the water where the waves climbed higher and watched their rhythmic movements.
The icy waters licked at my bare skin as I swam out to meet my friend and as we
laughed together I realized that I was never afraid of the wave itself but the
force in which it made me face my own vulnerability. When you are in the ocean,
no matter who you are, you are at the mercy of nature. Looking into the mouth of
that wave I knew I was facing the wrath of nature. The wave doesn’t discriminate
between strong swimmers or not, male or female, skin color or race. To a wave,
you are just another obstacle standing in its infinite, unstoppable path toward
the shore. This wave wasn’t going to judge based on anything I did or said; it
was going to barrel right into me because I was just a fragile human being, made
so that I can be broken and tossed around like nothing but a rag doll.
The
Waters of Faith
The routine of the tides, the pull of the undertows, the precise beating of the waves, these elements are much stronger than I. They can be instruments of destruction or of joy. So it is by faith that I initially step into that blue, watery field. By faith I risk every scenario possible, I dive into the fathoms and brace myself for the ride as I’m thrown around as each crest crashes into itself. Sand peppers my skin leaving me with a burning, red rash. By the end of the day I’m ragged and beaten. I itch all over knowing that I will end up taking half the beach home within every little crevice of my body. So people ask us and we find ourselves thinking, “Why go in the water in the first place?”
As
I mull over this question and reflect upon my experiences I find that I am
thinking about more than just water and waves. The pointlessness and the hassle
of it all seem to prompt the question and I remember hearing the same tone of
voice used when people asked me about my faith, about Christianity: “Why go in
the first place?” My choice to be Christian and to follow an unseen God with the
power to remove all evil, all brokenness, and all imperfection but doesn't,
leaves me imagining how I could possibly explain it to someone else. I struggle
against my faith and against the truth just as much as I struggle against the
impeding waves. The fight leaves me feeling much like a day at the beach does,
ragged and beaten; so why this fight and why this particular struggle? Sometimes
it just difficult to have faith, to be a Christian, and to do all that lifestyle
entails. I imagine my spirit is tossed around by the forces of doubt, contrary
knowledge, facts, and lies much like I am by the waves; and it is with that same
vulnerability and shyness that I step into my faith, my calling, and my purpose.
It’s a big risk and there’s a lot I don’t know. However, I feel like I can
answer the question of “why” to my faith much like I answer the question of
“why” to the waves. “Well, because I love to swim.”
It’s
okay to enter this risky business of faith timidly, but as you get used to the
waters may you boldly dive into the blue depths knowing that in the end, it’s
all worth it. In fact, you couldn't imagine doing anything less. It is what you
love to do; the exhilarating sense of adventure and the wellspring of life that
comes along with the belief in something greater than yourself tells you so. Let
the waves of faith and the spirit carry you, gently rocking you just past the
break; float and be content knowing that you were always meant to
swim.
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