I live near the ocean. Not far off really, just down the road twenty minutes. Then the vastness, the magnificence of that body of water is is in full view and goes beyond what the eye can grasp. There is something to being at the water’s edge and feeling insignificant that I wonder if it wasn’t designed that way on purpose.
I think people are drawn to pieces of nature like the ocean because it represents a reality we feel most days and frankly are supposed to feel. Here is something so grand and violently uncontainable, and we have no say over it at all. We are nothing in its presence; nothing but an effected observer. I think we like to be reminded of the things greater than us. Because we were meant to rely on One vastly different and bigger than us. We love the uncontrollable consistency of the waves because it reminds us, deep in our souls, that there is a God who is uncontrollable and consistent in his providential care for us.
To be in that place, in the proximity of such danger and yet feeling safe and put at ease by the shear grandiosity. That my friends, is what we might feel when we are rightfully in awe of Jesus. His care and redemptive work – taking on the weight of our seemingly uncontrollable sin and disregard for God, dying a death we could never muster the courage to face, and granting new life to those incapable on their own to realize the need. As the truth of this Jesus washes over our feet, we should sense both the strength and the gentleness of the waves.
“Be still and know that I am God.” If these spaces it seems appropriate. To feel. To be awakened. To be in awe. Then fully surrendering all of our attempts to control and channel new paths for a phenomenon that is beyond us.
Might we be people that see the vast reality, and sense the intimate care. May we know that he is God.