Fathom

Fathom

Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens above—what can you do? They are deeper than the depths below—what can you know? Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea.

I SAT MESMERIZED on a broad swatch of blue-black basalt, a once-upon-a-time red-hot lava flow, arms wrapped around my knees, watching the pounding waves of Lake Superior crashing along my rocky ledge.

We’d returned to my favorite spot, and I was content with sitting in quietude, allowing the rhythmic noise to wash over me as every to-do list item faded to black and I simply existed in the present. Resetting. Recalibrating. Refreshing.

There is something about rocky beaches and wild waves of Lake Superior along Minnesota’s North Shore that calls to me. Its dangerous beauty reminds me of the fathomlessness of God in a way little else does. It’s my sacred place, a place that snaps everything back into the right perspective when I’ve started to put God into a box that is a hundred thousand times too small.

And I do. Put God in a box, I mean. I have a tendency to get our relationship mixed up and backward, with me pretending I’m in control until chaos descends and I quickly hand the proverbial wheel to Jesus. I save my prayers for the really big, worthwhile things rather than taking all of it to him in prayer. I make plans and ask God to bless them, rather than asking God what the plan is. This is a perennial mistake for me, something I am continually readjusting, relearning. I need constant reminders that God is God and I am . . . me.

Maybe you do this too? Have you made God a box and tucked him inside, forgetting that he is fathomless, beyond knowing, at least while we are on earth? Do you forget to wait for his lead, trying to navigate life on your own until suddenly you’re in over your head and you’ve—finally—hit your knees in prayer?

Lord, we acknowledge your sovereignty, your godship, your fathomlessness. Forgive us our tendency to put you in a box, our determination to operate under the illusion of control. Restore us to a right relationship with you. Amen.

-Julie

One Good Step: Meditate on Job 11:7-9, asking God where you need to cede control back to him.