I saw God at the ocean this morning . . .
He was in the rocks, there on the shore:
Silent. Solid. Substantial.
And I was the ocean, coming towards Him,
again and again.
I saw myself approach Him,
as though trying to go around and past Him
to the warm, flat sand
I’d come so far to rest on.
He saw me coming, of course,
and as I tried to sneak past Him
He said simply:
I came towards Him again,
this time gathering myself up,
proud and formidable,
full of intention,
smashing against Him with such willingness
that I exploded into ecstatic vapor.
Particles of me were sent out and up,
so that for an instant
I saw that I was not merely salt water
but billions of possibilities which,
when bound together,
only appeared to be a simple, moody ocean.
And I marveled at how God’s response
to my violent approach of Him
was to say simply:
And now, knowing I could come towards Him
as often as I cared to –
as timidly or aggressively as I choose,
going around Him
meeting Him full force and head on –
He would graciously allow it all,
welcoming me with: