to be entirely underwater is a fearful thing on its own. to have the water close over your head and to sink down so low that the sun is a glimmer above your head, and the waves playing the oddest of games with your head.
and then you come up again, dripping and gasping for breath. and then you laugh and do it over again. and it feels like drowning, when your lungs are screaming for air and your eyes are fogged with water and far-away sunbeams and something else...something mysterious that i'm not sure i ever want to figure out entirely.
and it's a fear thing, to let go of the dock and sink when every corner of your mind is screaming
don't let go.
don't you dare.
and so we haul ourselves out of the water for dry land instead, preferring the solid turf beneath our feet to the ever-changing waves that could take us down and out of control for even just one second too long.
and so isn't it funny that He stands on the edge of the pier, holding our hands in His, eyes fixed deep into ours and speaks a message that seems so foreign to our hearts.
you don't dare not to...
and the way to Aslan's Country lies over a river. and it lies below the surface of the darkest of pools with no bottom to speak of...
and it takes so much bravery to just dive right in. and to get there, you have to let the waves sweep over you and
and He whispers
die with Me.
die to live. die to self, arise in Me.
and then we arise from the bottom of the sea, dripping wet and pouring glory from head to toe, hand in nail-scarred hand. the dove wings brush against my cheek, and the Voice from Heaven speaks a roar in my soul.
this is My beloved Son.
in Him, I am well pleased.
and He's holding my hand.