Thursday, April 24, 2014

Tidal Wave.

I glimpse their arms parting the sea with solid strokes before I slip back under, a half-gasped breath cradled in my starving lungs, and if I could keep my head above water for just a fraction longer, I might ask how it is they manage not to drown.

(I long ago lost strength to stay afloat.)

...

The world is large and full of shadows. I think the secret is (everyone knows but no one knows), we're all stumbling.

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I once heard of a believer who built a boat, and though it rained for forty days and and forty nights, the flood could not touch him.

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I once heard of a people who walked across the dry bed of a sea that was rolled back like a scroll, and made it to the other side.
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I once heard of a prophet who was tossed into stormy waters, and a great fish swallowed him whole, and later spat him onto a safe shore. 

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I once heard of a man who told the churning waves to be still, and they obeyed.

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I once heard of a disciple who stepped on the water's swirling surface, and it held him like solid ground.

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(I'm only trying to say, these oceans are as inevitable as they are impossible.

But even if we cannot swim, we have a God who can keep us from drowning.)