Feet firmly planted in the supple golden sand, a gurgling, awake sea ahead. The tide is summoned; back, back, back it pulls, “woosh!” met again by the tender kiss of ankles submerged in waves. Water bubbles and laughs on the shore, pleased to grasp at the simplicity of little depth. Abba stands in the sea at a distance. He waves, “come daughter”. Feet sink at the ascent into the tumbling waves, but he draws further and further out to sea. A white linen garment clings at skin as water travels from knees, hips, chest, neck. Finally, the steadiness of his hands are reached. “Thank you for coming my beloved one. Now, we must go to the depths of the sea.”
“But why, Lord?”
“You must trust me, flower. I am shaping you and soon your heart will flourish.”
The descent begins. As limbs pull deeper, deeper, deeper into the depths, breath is sustained yet strained. Drown not, for life is given. The pressure increases the deeper the sea, into the blue unknown. It is agony, pride, disillusion, fear, resentment, shame, billowing in veins of the broken-hearted. But, with his pressure comes restoration. It takes courage to say yes to Father. To let him pull you into the pressured wake of his ocean, knowing the remolding will be excruciating and allowing nakedness before him. White garment discarded, naked before the Father where he can see the breaks and tears. Naked before the Father, where vulnerability sparks intimacy. Naked before the Father, where trust is earned and clinged to as he paints the blood of forgiveness and restoration over gaping wounds. In trust, there is newness.
