There Are No Waves Yet
You’d never guess that this was a day for an epic miracle merely by looking at the water.
I’m staring. Staring at the subtle current, if you could call it that. It’s moving, but not even enough to be an official ripple. The liquid dances and somehow seems to return to where it was, but on a microscopic scale. I did what was asked… walked to the edge, laughed in the face of fear and doubt, followed the cloud before me and a fire by night.
And yet here I stand… staff lifted; hand outstretched. Nothing.
Enemies are closing in from all around and the betting people wager that we’re goners. They’re not wrong.
Alas, no movement. No fanfare announcing that the transformation is about to begin and the new phase will unfold. Nothing.
I feel like caterpillars have some kind of warning that things are about to get weird. Or there’s a universal indicator that when x part of you starts to become goo it means you’ve got 20 minutes to get your affairs in order.
But I stand. And wait. Is time really going this slowly or is it all in my mind? They say that with things like car crashes or near-death experiences that somehow it can feel like things took forever between the impact and the jarring jolt back to reality.
“Be still,” I hear gently on the breeze. Ok, so I’ll stand here like an idiot with my arms upraised and just be still. I should do more bench presses if I ever get out of this. My arms feel weak and I’m not sure I can do this much longer.
I wish I could hear the playbook behind all this. Is it like a football playoff? Where once all things are lined up, then the crowd goes wild with the clutch play? Maybe it’s more like gentle chimes when each prerequisite is met.
Regardless, I face the seemingly impossible expanse of water before me, pleading for something to start happening. Tell me that I’m nearer the end of this pain to be able to again feel the sun gently shine on my face.
Truth be told, I’m not Moses. I’m quite certain I would have lost my nerve in the face of all the adversity he and his people faced. While I like to think I trust when God speaks, I know I’m much more inclined to think things through in my head and later consult the Almighty to see if He agrees with what I’ve decided is the right path.
Yet the water did move. “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Exodus 14:14
My mind most days cannot compute how being still equals action, but it does.
I choose to not have to be in control. I choose to surrender my worry (which is no easy task, because worry feels easy and right and comforting.) I’m not good at it, but I must fight against those ice-cream thoughts and choose the kale.
When the crisis is so acute and large it’s human nature to want to know when the suffering will be over. And yet, if we had those answers, there’d be no victory in our trusting in the middle of the circumstance. There’s a quote from the film “The Heart of Man” that states “Without the ability to say no, there is no power in saying yes."
So as hard as it is to find that place to be still, I relax. Change the angle of my shoulders. Release the tension and close my eyes. I don’t need to see that the waves are moving. I need to trust that in that stillness, He who hung the stars and spoke universes into existence is fighting for me.
I’m staring. Staring at the subtle current, if you could call it that. It’s moving, but not even enough to be an official ripple. The liquid dances and somehow seems to return to where it was, but on a microscopic scale. I did what was asked… walked to the edge, laughed in the face of fear and doubt, followed the cloud before me and a fire by night.
And yet here I stand… staff lifted; hand outstretched. Nothing.
Enemies are closing in from all around and the betting people wager that we’re goners. They’re not wrong.
Alas, no movement. No fanfare announcing that the transformation is about to begin and the new phase will unfold. Nothing.
I feel like caterpillars have some kind of warning that things are about to get weird. Or there’s a universal indicator that when x part of you starts to become goo it means you’ve got 20 minutes to get your affairs in order.
But I stand. And wait. Is time really going this slowly or is it all in my mind? They say that with things like car crashes or near-death experiences that somehow it can feel like things took forever between the impact and the jarring jolt back to reality.
“Be still,” I hear gently on the breeze. Ok, so I’ll stand here like an idiot with my arms upraised and just be still. I should do more bench presses if I ever get out of this. My arms feel weak and I’m not sure I can do this much longer.
I wish I could hear the playbook behind all this. Is it like a football playoff? Where once all things are lined up, then the crowd goes wild with the clutch play? Maybe it’s more like gentle chimes when each prerequisite is met.
Regardless, I face the seemingly impossible expanse of water before me, pleading for something to start happening. Tell me that I’m nearer the end of this pain to be able to again feel the sun gently shine on my face.
Truth be told, I’m not Moses. I’m quite certain I would have lost my nerve in the face of all the adversity he and his people faced. While I like to think I trust when God speaks, I know I’m much more inclined to think things through in my head and later consult the Almighty to see if He agrees with what I’ve decided is the right path.
Yet the water did move. “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Exodus 14:14
My mind most days cannot compute how being still equals action, but it does.
I choose to not have to be in control. I choose to surrender my worry (which is no easy task, because worry feels easy and right and comforting.) I’m not good at it, but I must fight against those ice-cream thoughts and choose the kale.
When the crisis is so acute and large it’s human nature to want to know when the suffering will be over. And yet, if we had those answers, there’d be no victory in our trusting in the middle of the circumstance. There’s a quote from the film “The Heart of Man” that states “Without the ability to say no, there is no power in saying yes."
So as hard as it is to find that place to be still, I relax. Change the angle of my shoulders. Release the tension and close my eyes. I don’t need to see that the waves are moving. I need to trust that in that stillness, He who hung the stars and spoke universes into existence is fighting for me.
Submitted by Amy M. on 11/15/21
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Because of God's work in this world and in your life, you have a story of salvation and sanctification. Your story can bring encouragement, hope and blessing on others. So share it!
In this blog you will find stories of God's faithfulness, love, power and blessing as experienced by His beloved saints - that's us.
We would love if you'd share yours with us too!
Because of God's work in this world and in your life, you have a story of salvation and sanctification. Your story can bring encouragement, hope and blessing on others. So share it!
In this blog you will find stories of God's faithfulness, love, power and blessing as experienced by His beloved saints - that's us.
We would love if you'd share yours with us too!
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