“Consider the surface of a lake, above which the sun is shining. If the surface of the lake is peaceful and tranquil, the sun will be reflected in this lake; the more peaceful the lake, the more perfectly it will be reflected. If, on the contrary, the surface of the lake is agitated, undulating, then the image of the sun can not be reflected in it.
It is a little bit like this with regard to our soul in relationship to God.”
-Father Jacques Philippe
Walking down the dock to the plane, I look into the water and see all the way down to the ocean floor: purple and blue sea stars, spiky cucumbers, spotted kelp, and pale orange crabs. Today, the wind is calm; the water is perfectly clear. The sky reflects gently off the surface, but the depths of the ocean are still visible. It is at peace, and so am I.
Water itself is completely clear, almost invisible. The only way to know it is by its composition and what it reflects. When filled with glacial runoff, it appears opaque and milky; with algae and organic material, it is clear green-blue. When the wind howls, it looks dark and choppy. Flowing over rocks, it creates rapids and eddies.
I imagine my interior being, my soul, is water, a fluid reflection of everything in and around me. Is my water clear or murky? Do I allow the depths of my heart to be seen? What do I reflect? Is my water black or clear? What can you see in me? Pride, jealousy, selfish ambition or humility, gentleness, and service? Do I welcome others into gentle water?
My hair tickles my face, and shifting my gaze out to the channel, I see ripples in the water as the breeze lightly dances across its surface. The warm morning air kisses my cheeks.
Every day, I look at the water and clouds to see what the wind is doing, its direction, speed, and frequency. I imagine the Holy Spirit is the wind. He is invisible on His own but known by all His effects. His movements are seen and felt by how they stir the world.
I climb into the plane. Cargo loaded, I head off into the quiet summer morning. The engine rumbles happily at cruise, and I look out the window to assess the water. The wind is stronger in the straits closer to the ocean. I see the white caps falling off the backs of the waves and light streaks on the water, indicating wind direction and speed. Glancing at the shoreline, I see darker patches of water that look like large cat paws trotting across the surface; the wind is rolling down the mountain in gusts, creating patches of rough air and down drafts. I’ll stay away.
Water doesn’t move on its own. Water doesn’t change colors on its own. It is moved by the wind, gravity, heat, or lack thereof, the earth itself shifting.
Air moves like water. It is not a force of its own; it is also moved by the sun and the movement of the earth, exchanges of energy and gravity. Gravity is the force that pulls on us due to the distortion of mass in space. The gravity of the sun keeps us orbiting around the center of this universe. The sun has immense mass and heat, distorting the fabric of reality and time, affecting everything in its vicinity for millions of miles.
I imagine the sun is like the Son, Jesus. The Son affects me too. He stirs the wind, which in turn stirs me. He pulls on my heart with His immense gravity. His heat warms my soul. I cannot escape it, pulled into orbit around Him; I cannot go anywhere else. I don’t want to go anywhere else. Anyways, to whom would I go?
Getting closer to the village, I start a gentle descent over the water, navigating between the small islands and their trees. I land and taxi to the dock, turning early because the wind is pushing me. I remember how it was hard to anticipate the movement of the airplane before I understood how the wind, the water, and the tide all work together. Adjusting my movements for the wind has become second nature; it’s not something I think about anymore.
Most people here have gained all their experience firsthand while living on the water. They have been taught by time. Much of my knowledge is second-hand. I hear Joe in my head, “Do you see the wind bouncing between the mountains? It’s going to be bumpy in the channel. Find the calm spot.” But slowly, second hand knowledge has moved out of the books and teachings and into experience.
The same is true with faith. We can read about it, have great knowledge, and understand how it works. However, until we live it, in the trenches of abandonment to the Holy Spirit, our knowledge can not move from the brain to the heart, and our instincts are not honed to flow with the rhythm of the wind.
As I step back onto the float, cargo unloaded and ready to shove away from the dock, I see a bright red and orange jellyfish with long tentacles. Those sting. What creatures are in my waters? Do they burn those who swim with me? Are my beaches soft and sandy, or rocky and covered in barnacles? My hope is for my waters to be calm and safe, reflecting the goodness and love of the Lord, His infinite mercy and compassion. My prayer is that those who approach me are welcome without reservation, without water shoes, life jackets, or other protective gear, that they may be as they are and simply be loved.
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