In the still of the night, the sound of the waves seems exaggerated, crashing on the shore, rolling along the coast, breaking in a rhythmic crescendo. When the routine noises of the day are hushed, I can hear the waves more clearly, trace their regular arrival on the beach. It’s interesting how the surf can dominate my hearing during the night and fade completely at other times, even when I’ve walking beside the sea. If I’m with a friend or intent on my own thoughts, the sound fades from awareness and I move in silence. But here in the deepness of night, the waves move into my mind’s shore, calling my attention and making it difficult to attend to anything else. God’s presence has come upon me like that—not often, but sometimes. I have felt a spirit speaking within, louder than the distractions of the day. What I hear may be directive, urging me to specific behavior, or it may be reassuring, letting me know I am loved and forgiven. The wordless feelings come with calm authority, not in anger or hopelessness. Thank you, Lord, for giving me the sense of your presence in my life. Help me seek you out in quiet times and make a permanent place for you in my world. Amen.
Last evening a friend showed me an oceanographic chart identifying the water depth far out to sea. It’s difficult for me to imagine how far out the ocean extends—how deep
