I have never been sailing. Never been on a cruise. I have a fear of drowning.
But there’s something about deep water that draws me. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight. What would I see? What would I hear? What would the night sky look like unfiltered?
I’m fascinated by the creatures that live in the ocean depths, but I’m a bit claustrophobic, so I can’t see myself scuba diving or boarding a submarine anytime soon. I am content with pictures and aquariums, with the experiences of those who brave the deep to explore what can’t be seen.
So it is with my spiritual life, I’m embarrassed to admit.
There is a longing inside of me to go deeper. To have the kind of inner spiritual life that is untouched by the world and its circumstances around me. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking I am deeper than I really am, but when faced with someone whose life is richer and fuller and more deeply rooted, I see the truth.
I am shallow. My toes are on the sand, where the water grazes them and retreats. I am knee-deep by accident when the tide rushes in. I hear the water beckon, but I stay put.
Here on the shore, I can feel the ground beneath me. Here on the shore, I can easily retreat to a place where the water can’t reach me. Here on the shore, I am within shouting distance of help. Here on the shore, I am in control of my actions.
Out there, in the water, it’s unpredictible. Wild. Dangerous. What about sharks and jellyfish and riptides? What about water in my mouth and muscle cramps from trying to stay afloat and struggled breaths? Out there, it’s work to stay afloat, to stay alive.
Read the rest over at Putting on the New, where I post on the 12th of each month.