Is there no greater sound to be lulled to love but by the ocean's pulsing rhythms under a full moon? Tonight, I am reminded of a Diana Butler Bass comment/question from her book, Grounded, where she considers the question, "What if God is water?"
As I watch my children learn to float, to fish, to explore, and to discover within the ocean’s living presence, the wonders and tragedies, the cycles of life (those necessary and those difficult to witness), draw me to this description of the holy one.
Sage is amazed and perplexed by the story of Jonah and the whale; by Jesus calming the storm; by the waters that part to allow a crossing; by anything with a mighty sea bellowing forth creatures, signs, and wonders. He is equally stimulated by loud thunderstorms and all forms of precipitation, by sprinklers, sprayers, and anything that slips and slides.
At night, before he closes his eyes, his love comes to me as "big as the ocean" and mine "like the water that never runs dry".
What if God were the water? Not just in it, but of it? Like a popsicle that brings a red-stained grin, or in a cold bottle of water or a frozen mug on a hot summer day? What if God were the rain pelting down the heat of our inadequacies, the freshwater streams that remind us that the only thing sustainable is mutuality and interdependence with God and humanity? What if we saw the face of Spirit in every living thing as we listen to every crashing wave?
Tonight, Spirit, I thank you that you are
water. Open my eyes to see you more clearly,
to drink you more deeply.
May the Spirit Lead the Way,
Pastor Jenny Shultz-Thomas