I love the sound of waves. For the longest time, one of my favorite summertime activities, minus the sand that gets caked on your bare feet, is to sit on Lakeport State Park's shorelines or at Lighthouse Beach and simply LISTEN to the waves. (Yes, I have been one of those suckers that bought one of those apps with the white noise of rain and waves playing on repeat to lull myself to sleep.) Peace overcomes me every time I simply close my eyes and listen to the rhythm of the water reaching the shore. As a college student, trying to make sense of life, I would often sit lakeside staring out into Lake Huron, listening to the waves, and simply allow God's voice to speak. I'm finding that there is quite a different experience between standing on the shoreline and actually standing ON the waves. Shorelines provide safety, provide distance. I can simply sit and listen. Stepping out into the water leads to uncertainty, leads to potential risks. If I keep moving away from the shore, those waters will be over my head. Yeah, it's much easier to sit on the shore and listen to the waves. I really like the shore. On Monday morning, the story of the disciple Peter stepping out of his boat and out ONTO the waters popped randomly and mysteriously in my head. There were no songs on the radio that brought this to my mind. From Matthew 14, the moment goes down like this... 29 And He said, "Come!" And Peter got out of the boat, and walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But seeing the wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" God calls Peter OUT, away from the just listening to the white noise of the waves. In faith, Peter steps out. That darn wind kicks up. Those waves, once pleasant to listen to, reacting to that violent wind. Peter becomes frightened and begins to sink. It's been interesting to read and talk and hear some of the responses to the announcement of our intention to adopt from China. Either through reading the transparent thoughts on this blog or by visiting with Amber and I, when I have been in a "doubting mood," people have wondered if I was "talked into" this journey by Amber. They wonder how much I really want to move "off the shore" and out into unsafe, wind-pushed waters. My reply? The shore is safe. SITTING ON the shore is easy. I love the sound of the waves, with me NOT having to attempt to walk out on them. Sitting on the shore has that same comfortable feel that my pew or seat does during Sunday morning church. I don't want to get wet. I don't want to drown. Being real and truthful about my doubts and fears and concerns has typically become inactivity. When I've listened to my buddy, Caleb Bislow, share about traveling to dangerous parts of Africa or Asia, my heart has been stirred. But I looked out into the dark waters and have remained on the shore. When I've read about my neighbor and friend, Dennis Cook, spending time on the streets of New Orleans, Nashville, and New York City, simply listening to the homeless, the broken. My heart as been stirred. But, in my "realness", I've looked out into the choppy waters, considered the depths that could overcome me, and have remained on the shore. So has Amber's insistence broken me? Am I just caving based on a past of saying "no" to journeying out into the waters? Maybe. I'm not entirely sure. But through the pictures and stories from Chinese orphanages, I hear something that Peter heard across those waters. "Come." It is the voice of the Creator, who I often doubt. "Come." It is the voice of the Savior I sing loudly about trusting. "Come." And let me continue to be real here. Despite my willingness to focus on what I believe to be God's will,those winds are still howling and those waves are still moving. You see as comforting as the sound of waves might be while resting on the shore. When you hear the waves, while standing ON the waves, that sound is no longer a comfort. It's both distracting and a solid dose of reality. Sure, Peter may have shown great faith to step out onto those deep, choppy waters, but the reality was that he was still STANDING on watersand below him were depths of reality that could easily drown him. And as I and many others have heard in countless sermons on this passage, when did he begin to sink and be overcome by that "reality"? When he took his eyes away from the direction of that Voice which called him. On this journey, some of my friends, who love and look up to, have written or shared their concern over the McCullochs adding a fifth child. Some have questioned motivations. For me, and with no disrepect to those I admire and love, I have to realize that this is simply the sound of that "wind" and those "choppy waves". As I am plagued by the discomfort of moving into a home study process, again what am I really hearing? Waves and wind. When I am barraged by an unusual amount of bills that make me wonder if we can truly pull off the expenses of this adoption, what am I hearing? Waves and wind. Should I be unrealistic? I immediately want to shout, "No! Of course not!" But my faith and walk with a seemingly invisible God has NEVER made much sense either. If I'm going to follow that Voice out onto and into the waters, I guess I need to be ready to trust more than what reality says. Again, we don't foolishly go. We realize we are placing our feet on TOP of deep, potentially life-threatening waters. If you visit our home, it may not be a Disney movie setting you walk into. Even last night, the sound of the wind and the waves was drowning out that Voice across the waters, which seems to be calling from a Chinese orphanage, saying "Come." But we DEFINITELY hear those REAL winds and those REAL waves crashing into the shore. I'm reminded of two songs that speak of that needed bravery and courage to follow God's call to adventure. One song is "You Make Me Brave." The other is appropriately entitled "Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)". Despite how many times you may or may not have listened and considered the powerful words, take a moment to listen. Perhaps, as we all listen to these words, we'll hear a Voice across the waters. A voice that rises above the sound of the waves, both soothing or nerve-wracking depending on where you hear them. A voice that simply says..."Come."
2 Comments
Chelsea
11/17/2015 11:23:39 am
"A ship in the harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are built for."
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Heather Ross
11/18/2015 02:49:29 am
Simply beautiful!
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