Tsunami Warning

I've heard that before a tsunami hits, the tide rolls out, leaving the sand and all the debris normally hidden by sea exposed. People, in their ignorance of what is coming, flock to the sight, and are caught unaware by the force of the water as it explodes onto the beach.

Wednesday, through the words of a five year old, I heard the tide roll out. My son, in the midst of a selfish moment, wouldn't allow his buddy to hold any of the toys strewn across the backseat during our ride to school. His friend said, "Justin, if I'm gonna be your best friend, you're gonna have to let me touch your stuff."

And the water began to recede.

I heard Jesus in those words, and moved on to the beach to see what He might be talking about. I considered how far I've come in trying not to micromanage my big kids, diligently trying teach my little kids what following Christ looks like, and the effort I put into not being my husband's Holy Spirit, trusting that God is always at work. I thought about my finances, and saw room to let Jesus carry my purse, instead of passing out a meager allowance when I had a few dollars extra.

I looked to the horizon, wondering where the sea had fled to.

Thursday morning brought counseling class, where I am learning to help others apply biblical principles to the plagues of life. Had I been listening for it, I might've heard tsunami siren begin to blow. I would've fled to safety, but instead, I was still captivated by the secrets of the ocean laid bare, wondering what "stuff" I wasn't letting Jesus touch, unaware.

At the close of class, we were given our homework assignment: create homework for a counselee based on the scenario contained on a card we would draw from the stack. "Pick a card, any card," my instructor said, the deck fanned out like a magician.

And the water began to pick up speed.

I reached out my hand, picked directly from the middle, and flipped my card over. Still looking down at the sand, I never saw the towering wave before it hit me with all its life-altering force.

"Sexual abuse in my past still haunts me or impacts me."

The tsunami crashed onto my beach, knocking me to my knees, ripping the breath from my lungs. Already retreating, the water stole the sand I stood on and dragged it deep into the ocean.

The power in the wave took me by surprise because I thought I was on solid ground here. I thought I could swim in these waters. I reached out for the only Hand I could see through the salty water stinging my eyes and filling my nose, the murkiness of the depths almost blocking out the sunlight.

And Jesus said, "If I'm gonna be your best friend, you're gonna have to let me touch your stuff."