A Baptism

"When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on his outer garment and plunged into the sea" John 21:7

From the mountain I descend to the sea.

From the mountain I saw you clearly.

Now at the sea, the destination looks treacherous.

Plunge into the sea at the sound of your voice?

No debate

No seeing who's with me

No hesitation

Just full abandon.

But the grey waves make me afraid that I'll be swallowed up and disappear if  I walk out to you. 

Saying yes on the mountain was easy.

My feet were on solid ground. 

I thought I did it.

Now, a baptism.

I know I can't breathe under there and I fear my own ability to keep my head above it. 

To keep my eyes on you. 

I know I have to plunge into your will, and fight my own to do so. I can't wait until it feels right. It just won't happen.

I beg you to show me how, to make it easier. If I know for sure where it is going, it will be easier.

You remind me of the mountain. I remember your promises.

I will not be forsaken.

I need only you.

Even if  I go under.

And then I see it: You are above the waves, you are doing the very thing you ask me to do now.

And I know I will sink. And I think of Peter. And I am so glad he also sank into the waves and was terrified.

Because you caught him.

So I stand at the sea, glad I've thought about these things, wondering if I'm any closer to it. To you.

I haven't moved yet you are nearer.

What grace and mercy in my fear.