My favorite place to go is the seashore. I love hearing the sound of the water moving in rhythms I cannot trace and watching the whitecaps tumble over onto the sand. Not a strong swimmer, I prefer to sit and watch the tireless motion of the waves and content myself to stroll down the shoreline looking for shells left by the tide. But no matter how much time I have spent sitting and gazing at the watery horizon, I know so little about what the ocean is really like.
I mean, I can go the seashore and say that I have been to the ocean, and I would be correct. I can walk with the salty water washing in over my toes and say I have been in the ocean, and I would still be right. I can wade out where the whitecaps splash around my knees and proclaim that I have experienced the ocean without being in error.
However, the greater truth is that I have never known the mysterious wonders concealed in its murky waters. I have not felt the great billows crashing around me, or the surging currents driving me farther from the land. I have not felt the great pressure of its hidden depths or glimpsed the brilliant diversity of life swimming in the dark salty expanse. I have never felt the chill of its frigid darkness or touched the mountainous glaciers that form far from the sand on which I have stood. It is far more massive than I have seen, and it is deeper than I have fathomed. What I know of the ocean is so small compared to all that there is to discover.
So it is with Christ. I see Him in the ancient texts, walking on dusty roads and across rolling waves, feeding hungry men, and raising the dead as if it were no harder than inviting them to step out from their tombs. I listen carefully as red words fall from His lips like precious oil I weep as He bends to pray in a garden and hangs suspended between heaven and earth on a rough wooden cross. Oh, I know this Man Jesus.
I mean, I know Him. I have met Him at an old church altar years ago, and felt the instant cleanness that filled my consciousness as I was forgiven of my sins. I have known Him to be mercy and love when I was rejected and ashamed. I have sat with Him as my Companion in aloneness, and whispered His name when I was afraid. I have a history with Jesus that was forged in times of joy and seasons of sorrow, when the sun was bright and life was good, and when the night was cold and lasted far too long.
Do I know Him? Yes! No one could ever convince me otherwise!
Have I experienced the wonder of Him? Absolutely!
But I suspect that, like the ocean I claim to have known and experienced, I have merely been wading in the edge of His vastness. Like the Apostle Paul wrote in his epistle to the Philippians, I long to know the Lord in such an intimate fullness that all other things in life become nothing more than loss to me. [For my determined purpose is] that I may know Him [that I may progressively become more deeply and intimately acquainted with Him, perceiving and recognizing and understanding the wonders of His Person more strongly and more clearly], and that I may in that same way come to know the power outflowing from His resurrection [[b]which it exerts over believers], and that I may so share His sufferings as to be continually transformed [in spirit into His likeness even] to His death (Philippians 3:10, Amplified)
There are riches hidden in Christ that are so deep that they are UNSEARCHABLE! The only way to even begin to glimpse these deeper places is to boldly launch out from the shallow places of our Christian experience. Depth is found in a prayer closet where we intentionally engage His heart and allow Him to engage ours. It is found as we meditate on His words and lay the foundations of our faith in the truth found there. It is found in the awe of true worship.
You know, the boat that is sitting on the ocean’s edge, but tethered at the pier is fairly stable. The water moves it gently. However, when the ropes are undone and it is launched into the open waters, the billows toss it where they will and the current will take it far from the shore. There is a measure of safety in staying at the water’s edge, but the boat was not made for that. It was made for the deep waters. It will never fulfill its designed purpose tied to a dock. The deep places in your relationship with the Lord may feel less safe because the moorings that keep you tethered to the crowd must be cast off. To go deep, you must go alone. You must leave the shore behind to know Him most intimately.
Go deep anyway. Do not let yourself be content to stay on the wet sand of your salvation. Cast out into the deep waters. What you experience in Him will be worth the risk!
Pray with me?
Lord, we want to know You as fully as a person can know the infinite God. Draw us to Yourself and we will come to You. Show us Your wonders. We want to go deep in You.
