My favorite ocean memories come from the time I spent at the beaches near Fort Walton Beach, FL. The water was clear and warm, beautiful in ways that make the Pacific envious. I loved walking out far enough that, as each wave came in to beat on the shore, it would first raise me up. My feet would leave the sand and I would float in peace until the wave set me back down. Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are like this. I'm mostly OK, and there are times when God picks me up and holds me close in his hands and I feel my feet leave the sand.
There are times in the ocean, however, when you misjudge a wave. The water, no longer gentle, pummels you with a rage that sets your heart on edge. You are no longer lifted up and floating, rather your body is crushed down into the sand with great force. In these times you fear for your life. You hold your breath longer than you dreamed possible and you swim and push and fight against the sand trying to find the direction of the air. Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are more like this. The enemy has taken the gloves off, he's thrown the gauntlet and we are going to battle. My God is still there watching every move closely, keeping the enemy on a short leash. He's still there rooting for me, loving me, and preparing for my battle victory. The knowledge of such wonderful things should turn the tide for me, make my victory easier. It should. It does...make it easier but not easy.
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