Most days, I feel I'm sloshing through stormy waves, rain blowing in my eyes, and I'm squinting to focus on him. The one who stands somewhere out here on top of the waters, reaching out a hand for me. And most days, I feel the waves are so big and I am so small, and he drops from my sight, behind the waves, and I am sinking. Sinking fast and desperate. And I can almost hear his voice, though not audible, and he's asking why.
Why is your faith in me so small?
It's the same question I ask myself. This faith walk is not new to me, but the terrain of these particular waves in this particular season, they are entirely new to me. And they seem hell bent on taking me down.
I feel the smallness in the ways I doubt who I have known him to be, ways I pay lip service to trust and in the next rocky moment, am sobbing before him, "Don't you see all this? Don't you care?"
I feel the smallness in my lack of strength, my weariness, my inability to love him well or love others well or juggle everything with grace and immovable faith.
And how much of this smallness, I wonder, is exactly where he wants me to be? Because it's honest. I am small. I am weak. I am not him.
And how much of this smallness is because I can't stay focused on him as the waves come crashing, as my emotions come crushing, and I lose sight of how huge and limitless he is in the midst of these waves.
I am small. But these waves that seem to overwhelm? They are even smaller, insignificant in his company, tamed beneath his feet.
Lord, have mercy on me. Have mercy on my smallness, my small faith. Train my eyes to see everything else as so small in light of the reality of who you are, the one who tames the wild seas.
Joining Lisa-Jo and the whole community at FMF today for the prompt of "small."