waves.

There's this moment. This seemingly gravity defying moment, suspended in thin air, hanging there with all its uncertainty. It's terrifyingly peaceful, this one second of grace. Watching the waves, I can't help but notice it. Each wave comes softly - sneakily almost. It builds and builds and grows and climbs - quietly and steadily. But before it comes crashing down, something surreal happens. The moment. My heart stops, my breathing quiets. The silence somehow engulfs my entire being. Oh, the majesty of pure stillness. The wave idling before me - the silence, the peace, the surrender. Yes, there is even surrender. A certain letting go that happens in this moment. And just as suddenly, it's gone. The wave forms its perfect tubelike shape and it all comes crashing down, from every which way, wreaking havoc and chaos all in one fail swoop.

He is in these wave moments, this faithful Lover of my soul. I see Him there, beckoning. Calling me into the uncertainty of the stillness before Him. Do I trust Him enough to meet Him there? To walk forward into the tension of that one second? Yes. I must go to Him. I must sit there with Him. Without moving into that moment with Jesus, the chaos that follows crushes me. It is simply too much to bear. I need that moment with Him - that moment of letting go. Of courage. Of silence. Of majesty. Of grace. The waves teach me something: the necessity of the holy amidst the chaos. Amidst the confusion. Amidst the crashing.