Depth Finder

coral_reef_by_mikeosoerensen
Photo Credit: Mike Soerensen

I’m on a boat–probably a sailboat.

I’ve charted most of the waters of my heart by the wind of the Spirit, and dived into deep basins with the Father because I trust the man who can walk on water.

I’ve discovered meadows of seagrass, few, but nourishing and extensive–the opaque tendrils a home for small urchins, those spiny orphans of my neglect clinging to their last hope of belonging.

I’ve found my shallow, agitated waters where algae festers and seaweed roots deeply, where the water is neither hot nor cold and provides nothing wholesome, and where he and I waded to find what he grows: calcified coral–saffron yellow and cerulean blue, fluorescent in the light of his sun–the porous colony of fleshy polyps of my heart that breathe independently but he is forming into a kingdom of need.

In my heart, I’m on a boat.

There’s a depth-finder, sounding the draft I’ve reached. I’ve gone far out to the middle, to the other side, and dived to the bottom of every sounding.

When fear pounded me in waves, I broke only under the crashing of his love.

When insecurity threatened to drown me, I breathed in the holding of his affection.

When exhaustion promised to take me, I slept in the refuge of his hull.

But when I woke, I saw that the horizon had widened.

This water isn’t on any of the maps I’ve charted.

I’m on the edge of the horizon, watching it expand, this water I didn’t know about.

Paralyzed. I can’t decide what I more afraid of–that there are uncharted waters, or that the depths of those waters don’t go any deeper than the soundings I’ve already made.

How far are you willing to go?

I want to always be willing to go as far as is required of me to reach the depths of your heart.

Then you have to be willing to die. 

To what?

To the possibility that you can’t go any deeper than you are. 

And all at once the paralysis turns to drowning.

Stay with me. It is in the drowning that you find my heart. 

I want to be willing to give up the exploration of my ocean–all my sea creatures and dark waters, my reefs and land masses, if that is required to explore the oceans of his heart.

So I let out my mainsail and looked for the wind.

Barely a week on these uncharted waters, I saw another sailor in the distance.

It happened just as the depth-finder made a new sounding.

Fathoms.

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