It Comes in Waves

Photo by Bgrace

I headed out to the beach the first morning we were in Bombinhas.  I walked and listened and hoped the Lord would speak.  I watched the ocean.  Finally the still small voice came.  He said this, "It comes in waves."  I didn't have any context.  I didn't know what He was referring to.  Sometimes I know the meaning of a word, or at least have a sense or a connection--but this was just naked.  I've thought about it since.  It's true about so many things.  Perhaps most true about my connection with God Himself. 
I love God.  It may come as a surprise to you to know that I recently came to that conclusion.  I guess you could say I had to redecide.  There were a few mistrials along the way and in the most recent deliberations the jury was out for quite a while.  But now I know I can say with the Psalmist from the heart, "I love You, God."
You see, I used to love God a lot.  Actually, I didn't realize it, but I loved my idea of God.  Then we started to become more personally acquainted, more intimate.  I got to know Him at a whole new level.
Then I wasn't so sure.
I mean, I knew He was still God.  Just not so sure I wanted Him to be my God.  I wasn't so sure I could love this Him.  Especially not in public.  I wasn't so sure that if everyone was walking around with team jerseys on that this was the God I wanted plastered all over mine.  Then I thought maybe I could wear the jersey but put a bag over my head so I wouldn't have to deal with the insults. (The Saints fans always did seem to follow that pattern.)  Ohhh--and what about all those times I denied that God was this kind of a God--did I have to make that right?  How could I even begin to think about that?  Could I really own Him for who He was revealing Himself to me as?  Could I accept the whole package? Did I have to go public?
This God who speaks to me, who shows me things I couldn't otherwise see, who reveals Himself in unexpected and unconventional ways, who connects me to others in ways I cannot explain or control.  This God who no longer fit my theology or followed my rules or even my understanding of His rules.  This God who so many wouldn't approve of.  Who asked the unthinkable and allowed the unpardonable.
Could I accept this God?
Could I own this God?
Could I follow in His footsteps?
Because to truly love Him I must own Him--not hide Him in some rental apartment across town like a dirty mistress.  No, I needed not to be ashamed of Him.  I needed to put His picture on the mantle, to acknowledge the revelation of Himself to me even in the midst of my uncertainty and inability to process all these changes in my understanding of Him. 
But wasn't it at least appropriate for me to protect my loved ones from this God?
I needed not to be so arrogant as to believe it was my burden to defend Him or explain Him or somehow justify Him--most of all to myself.    But then too, I needed not to hesitate to speak the truth when He called me to entrust to others what He had revealed of Himself to me.  I had to trust that He would show me what, when, and how...and that He would prepare the way.
Isn't that what it means to be a witness?
So I gave Him His rightful place in my life. I received all He was opening up to me of Himself--as best as I knew how.  I allowed it all to flow together rather than try to segment it off into all my neat little compartments. (It always bled anyway, who was I kidding?)
Then I became one.
I became whole.
And I fell in love again with the One who owns my soul.
Oh God You are my God, and I will ever praise You.
I will never know the end of You.
But I will love the journey of discovery...I welcome every wave.
And I am not ashamed any more.

Psalm 18