Faith as Diving In

For many, January is a time to reflect on the year behind and set hopes and intentions for the year ahead.  For folks of an explicitly spiritual bent, this often includes remembering our longing for God and the gifts this relationship brings.  We may name these in different ways, but I imagine among our hopes, these top the list:  deeper peace and contentment, more presence and quality in our relationships, greater clarity about our gifts and purpose, an expanded capacity for love and mercy and grace.

My sense is that naming what we desire is often much easier than knowing how to receive it.

Unfortunately, sometimes our religious upbringing focuses more on what to believe than how to connect. We often learn creeds and confessions, but not ways for growing in a loving, transformative relationship with God.  Which sadly leaves many people worrying about what we believe, while missing the real gifts for which we long.  It’s like we’re all in our heads trying to figure out what is true about God; meanwhile, this God is closer than our very breath, pleading, I’m right here with you!  See me.  Listen to me.  Love me.  Let me love you.

Faith and belief in God is about so much more than intellectually assenting to certain statements about God.  If I tell my husband Michael, I believe in you, I don’t mean that I concur he exists or take others’ word for it that he’s a swell guy.  I don’t mean I believe it’s true that he was born in Cedar Falls or he has a brother and two sisters.  Believing in him is a relational trust, an inner knowing, a deep love and care, all born of a real, life-and-flesh daily experience of living life with him.

That, I believe, comes closer to what faith in God is intended to be—a living relationship with a loving Presence we come to know in ever deeper ways, and an intimate trust to which we can surrender more and more of ourselves.  This, of course, takes time, a whole lifetime really, to grow and develop.  It involves sustained commitment and practice.  And it transforms everything.

We can stand at the edge of God, as if at the shoreline of an ocean.  We can admire its beauty, make observations, give it lovely names and attributes, consult books and experts to learn more.  But the real adventure begins when we dive in.

Church as Boat

If God is like the Ocean, then churches, at their best, are like boats.  Their purpose is to carry folks from the shores of ordinary life into the waters of God.  They tell the great stories, from scripture and the Christian tradition, of those who have entered these waters before, what they’ve come to know about the love and goodness of God.  Through their rituals and sacraments, they offer folks an experience of the Sacred Sea.  And they equip folks with tools for exploration, teaching them how to swim and how to dive down deep.  In this way, folks not only go out on Sunday sailing expeditions, but they learn to spend more and more of their lives in and with God.  

The Church is a means to an end; that end is getting us into God.  Not just a toe in, and not just ankle-deep, but full-on, whole-life immersion into Mystery.

Unfortunately, it is easy to lose sight of this central purpose, and confuse the means for the end.  Boats can try all manner of things to attract us on board in the first place and keep us there.  After all, the harbor is crowded with boats of various shapes and sizes and with different names and emblems emblazoned on their sides.  It can be tempting to turn things into a competition, and get overly focused on the numbers of folks who choose your boat or sailing company.

And then, debates and arguments break out on board about various things – what color to paint the sails, which way to arrange the deck furniture, who is welcome to board, how to fix the leak that’s sprung and who’s going to pay for it.  To tell you the truth, the sailing crew can spend so much time debating how to best maintain the boat and get folks on board, they rarely have time to get out to Sea.

But no matter what, every seven days or so, each boat pushes out a little from the shore.  A hush falls over the crowd on board.  In the silence, folks may peer out over the railings and take in the immense beauty and power of the Ocean.  We sing and listen to music about the Sea, some of it so moving, the hair on the back of our necks stands straight up.  A crew member, hopefully one who has not only sailing, but also diving experience, stands in the bow and shares some of those great stories about the Sea and exploring its depths.  We are reminded that we are part of Something so much bigger than ourselves.  Hopefully, we come to love and trust the Sea, even if we can’t always understand or control it.  And we are invited beyond our life on shore, and life on the boat, into the Sacred Deep.  

The question is, do we dive in?  Are we inspired enough, and do we find the faith and the guidance we need to plunge into the depths of God?  

It’s wonderful being on board, no doubt, but going overboard is what it’s all about.  And sometimes a little rocking of the boat may be in order. 

God as Ocean

One of my favorite images for God has been the Ocean.  Vast and mysterious, beautiful and powerful, it is not subject to our understanding or control, but invites our awe and exploration.  At times, I have felt the Ocean hold me up; I could just turn over and float over the gentle undulations, trusting it would take me where I needed to go.  At other times, I have felt it crash on me with such brute force and toss me every which way that I wasn’t sure if, when, or how I would resurface. Eventually it would spit me out again on the shore, exhausted and humbled, but oddly grateful.

I have always liked the story in Luke’s gospel where Jesus, when calling his first disciples, tells Simon Peter to put out into the deep water to let down their nets for a catch.  I have interpreted that to mean there is more to be found in the depths than in the shallows.  And I hear it as a holy summons to dive in.  Don’t eddy out in small talk; wade into depth conversation.  Don’t settle for surface relationships; get to know yourself and others deeply.  Don’t just splash around in the shallows of life and God; plumb the depths.

You know how when you first walk into the ocean it can be hard to stay on your feet, not get splashed in the face or knocked around by the breaking waves?  Sometimes, a giant swell will take you down and you lose your bearings.  But then if you keep on walking, or better yet, you lean in and start to swim, you get to that place where you just float over the waves.  And if you sink down deep enough, the ocean will hold you in a quiet, gentle rocking rhythm, even if there’s tumult on the surface.  You just have to get out there far enough and sink deep enough.

I believe life with God is like that.  I hope you’re diving in.