A Shadow of Life on the Shore

I sit in the wet sand and look out across the lake. The water in front of me is grey, but on the horizon an almost dark green. The sky above is filled with a tangle of clouds in varying degrees of darkness. Behind them is the sky, with a tinge of pink from the setting sun. Rain falls on my bare arms and head. A warm breeze wraps itself around me. I feel peaceful on the outside, but there is no peace within me. A good ways out into the lake, up the shore from me, is a lighthouse of sorts. Its flashing lights flicker from red to green. It is steadfast and secure on the rocks that protrude into the lake. Between the shore where I sit and the rocky outcrop, the water tosses back in forth in a feeble attempt at waves. Beyond the rocks and lighthouse, the choppy water creates an ever shifting horizon. My soul is like the steely waters, restless and ambivalent. That point of security, the one thing on the horizon that isn't shifting and ebbing and flowing is the One who can cause my soul to be still. But there is so much water between Him and myself... A seagull hovers above the water, flapping its wings in earnest to stay in place, peering into the water that shudders in the wind. The bird gains altitude and then dives into the water, sending spray into the air. It resurfaces a moment later, perhaps with a prize from the toiling lake. I wish that I could be still. I wish that the waters of my soul weren't in such turmoil, that my thoughts wouldn't oppose one another and that my whole self could be of one accord. I wish that I could find peace and security and identity in my Rock and my Salvation. Instead I see Him as silent and foreboding, aware of my troubles, but not willing to offer any help. He is a silent watchman, standing by to let me choke on the water around me rather than to shine His light and expose a way out. I, unlike this lake, am not at the mercy of the wind. I can choose to still myself and instead of subjecting myself to the fickle desires of the circulating air, I can willfully look to the Rock and allow His presence in itself be enough to quiet my waters. If I patiently look for His light and allow His way to be better than my own treacherous way, then I am not drowning. I have to submit myself to an unconventional path. I rest here on the shore, content in my half-lived life rather than facing the unknown and setting my eyes on the rock, ready to plunge into His depths without inhibition. The bottom line is this: I live my life in fear of what God wants for me. I have created for myself a place of security, at the cost of having a life lived to the fullest. Living life to the fullest means giving up comfort. It means that life is found in losing it. This paradox will always be a hard one to grasp . I dabble in God's 'waters'. I wade out until I get too cold, or afraid of what lays in the deeper waters. Then I turn and walk back to the shore. Then I wonder why the storms of life shake me to my core. Its because I haven't given myself over to the wildness of God and His ways. I am not centered on His rock. I live with Him in sight, but not in His presence. And until I take the plunge and surrender to what feels like the terrifying unknown and allow Him to be the rock that I can hold fast to, then I will live a shadow of life on the shore.