The Tide of Discernment

Tarzan no longer swings blindlessly

Last night, as stars took watch above,

I vowed to greet the Atlantic’s love.

A morning plunge, my soul’s delight,

Though weeks had passed since last its sight,

Save Saturday’s baptismal rite,

When waves bore me in holy light.

At 2:20, I stirred awake,

No groggy sigh, no mournful ache.

The hush of dawn, a breath so clear,

God’s quiet call drew me near.

I knelt to pray, my heart laid bare:

“Your will, not mine, I seek to share.”

An hour hence, the shore’s embrace,

The sea a mirror, void of pace.

The sun, a spark on ocean’s rim,

A golden hush grew vast and dim.

But as I waded, chill and bold,

A fin rose near, no dolphin’s mold.

A shark, 5 feet, yet vast in threat,

Its glide a challenge, cold and set.

I’d swum with giants, calm and free,

But now, the tide whispered, “Let it be.”

The calm, the fin, the silent air,

A test: “Will you dare, or pause and spare?”

The fool I was might’ve leapt with pride,

But Proverbs stirred: “Lean not on pride.

Discern the path where wheat and weeds entwine.

The field is His, the growth divine.”

Matthew’s tale, the Lord’s own word:

“Let both grow ‘til the reapers’ sword.”

For days, I’d prayed, “Your will, reveal.

To boast or build? To wound or heal?”

The answer came, a whispered flame:

“Why plunge for self, not share Your Name?”

The flesh may crave, the spirit yearn,

But one leads home, the other burn.

So back I stepped, the tide my guide,

A lesson etched where waves collide.

To trust the Lord, though pulses race,

To seek His voice, not chase my pace.

For in the hush, the shark’s still grace,

The crockpot’s truth: His timing shapes.

When fins rise sharp and fears intrude,

Let faith recall: The field’s made good.

The reapers wait, the Lord’s decree.

To act, or hold, is all of Thee.

So dip I’ll take, or stand ashore,

When God’s own path leads evermore.

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I’ve slow-mo’ed the bits where the shark appears above the waterline. Check it out.

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