This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for 5 minutes on a one-word prompt, without heavy editing, and see what happens. Today’s prompt is “deep.”
I walked to the edge of the lake and stuck my toes in the water. It was surprisingly warm. I figured it must be shallow because everyone knows that deep waters are cold. And mysterious. And dark.
So I began to walk further in, exploring, a little hesitant, not knowing exactly what I’d encountered, but figuring I had heard enough about this particular lake to have some idea of what I was getting myself into.
Boy was I wrong.
I knew nothing about this vast, unsearchable body of water. I didn’t know that it would beckon me to go deeper.
I didn’t know that it would encompass me, overwhelm me, yet buoy me and keep me safe.
I didn’t know that I would never, ever be able to fathom its depths. That I would never know everything there was to know about it.
But I could see myself reflected in its depths.
And I would be drawn back to it time and time again. In fact, I would never want to leave. And I never had to. I could live there, in fact, I had to live there.
What I didn’t know is that life was in its depths. And after all, it wasn’t dark beneath the surface. It was surprisingly, amazingly, overwhelmingly, bright.
The words of this old hymn, written by S. Trevor Francis in the latter part of the 1800s, came to mind first and foremost when I saw the prompt for this week’s Five Minute Friday post. We are finite humans, trying to understand an infinite God, and it’s just not possible.
Compelled 