I’ve been finding God in nature a lot lately. For most of my life I’ve been this way: observing the trees and river currents and ants in order to learn about God and how to worship Him better. But lately, creation is teaching me even more about the Creator.
The other afternoon we were walking into town to visit a school and along the way we were discussing the ocean. “Do you think the ocean, of everything else on Earth, most accurately reflects God?” somebody asked. “Yes,” I said, “absolutely.”
The ocean is the only thing on Earth that comes close to comparing with the power and mystery of God. The ocean is massive, it is dangerous, and it threatens human life. But it is also necessary for human existence. The ocean can cause destruction and death just as easily as it can bring life to millions of organisms and creatures. The most important cities and empires in the world were secured in their dominance largely due to their location along the sea. The ocean, it seems, is the best Earthly reflection of the nature of God.
As we walked along the cobblestone streets of San Vicente, El Salvador, I came to a new realization about the ocean. I find it incredible that the ocean still has many unexplored depths, even though humans have walked on the moon and sent robots to Mars. Though we’ve floated among the heavenly stars, we’ve yet to swim into every part of our own waters. I wonder if this is, perhaps, because somewhere in those dark, quiet chasms, the holiest, most profound form of worship on Earth takes place. In those depths, where it is dark and quiet and cool, surely one could hear the gentle whisper of God singing loudly through the currents. Humans must not be prepared to experience or witness such worship yet, and thus we have been barred from entering that mysterious section of the sea.
Last night in worship I asked God to take me further into those depths. I want to know more about the mystery of God. But as I prayed, I knew I was unworthy to know His glory in such a way. So I asked God to burn my lips and soul with a hot coal just as He did to Isaiah (Is. 6). I prayed, “Burn away my flesh and make me worthy of witnessing more of your mysterious glory.”
Then I got a reoccurring vision of myself floating deep under the waves of the sea. I bobbed there in the middle of the ocean depths with Christ, but suddenly He grabbed my hand and we sank deeper. Together we swam effortlessly into the darker corners of the ocean. Though I am a mere human being – a person whose heart is stained by the brokenness of the world – Jesus escorted me, as His bride, into the oceanic tabernacle of the Lord. As we entered the darkness I felt God say, “Welcome, this is just the beginning.”
