pursuing the ocean

There is something extraordinary about standing on a cliff that looks out to the ocean, where the expanse of water and life seems to reach out forever. Grey-blue color as far as the eye can see. The lump in the throat that reminds me that I am little and that God is magnificent. It takes just one tiny show of God's grace to prove that I'm seen, valued, pursued, loved.


I realized this morning that I've been avoiding meeting God. As I sat in church, I felt again - as I do each time I attend - that pursuing God has meant confronting my pride. I have been wasting the last few years of my life trying to preserve my own dignity instead of allowing God to preserve it for me. I numb and shrink the hope that God has placed within me, and fruitlessly labor to bury the pain of disappointment, sorrow, and the consequences of my own depravity. I haven't trusted that God will be my champion, my teacher, and my comfort. Instead I have tried to be my own.

And then there are these moments - at the ocean, in my bed, during pointed conversations, in church, while listening to music, at a monastery - when I am pierced again. Why are you hiding from me? Why don't you trust me? Why are you so impatient? Why are you so defensive? Why can't you let me love you? Why do you cry? Why don't you? Why is your chin so high? Why is it so low? Why do you disparage? Why do you believe in lies? Why do you repeat them? What happened to your hope in me?

I don't know, Lord. I want to experience the cliff on the oceanshore even when I'm not there, to be reminded daily that while my hopes are so small, yours for me are so big.