I am awash in a terrible sea, waves towering above me, their unstoppable force first lifting me and then letting me plummet again into a watery valley. Their liquid mass threatens to pummel my soul, to leach the last bit of hope left in the ashes of my heart. 

What is a trial of faith? Does God test my faith? Really? Doesn’t He already know if I believe or doubt? Is He not already kind in my moments of unsurety? What then is this test of my faith that was taught to me? 

There is no heavenly report card to bring home to my parents, a summary of my faithfulness. Thanks be to God for that simple but profound mercy. Instead, faith is simply my choosing to reach for the life ring thrown overboard by some previous passing seaman. It is in the reaching that I am tested.  

If I will reach out for the salvation that is seemingly always just out of reach, I will not find purchase on a sodden rope, or a sunbeaten ring. My reaching will instead be met with an arm of wet flesh. Elbow to elbow, wrist to wrist, I will find that I am gripped by a personal, loving God, who is in the water, treading with me, smiling. 

I sputter and realize I can breathe again. He pulls me in and lifts me above the tides. Thundering waves fall away and there is stillness. 

          line upon line

               with or without patience

           … understanding blooms