Clinging in the Deep Waters

"I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. [...] The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him into his ears. [...]He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. You O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. [...] As for God his way is perfect, the word of the Lord is flawless." from Psalm 18 

Because of his character God "reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters." But before he reached into the deep waters he allowed me to descend into their depths where "the cords of death entangled me and torrents of destruction overwhelmed me." He allowed the distress which prompts my continual cry to him. As the cords of death coil around my ankles threatening to pull me under, deep into the waters he is the rock to which I cling and the strength with which I cling. 

He allows the deep angry waters; he allows a storm so violent. He allows a clinging. Clinging is the result of desperation.

 It's not sadistic, nor cruel, as such are contrary to his character, but that doesn't mean I understand or like the circumstances. Nor do I feel he is asking me to do so. 

As I cry out with gasping, gurgling breaths from the deep waters he hears my voice. His ear and his eyes are ever upon me. I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge the pain of him sovereignly watching me struggle, watching and allowing the torrents while waiting to reach in. He didn't keep me from entering the waters of sorrow, but I do trust he will bring me out of the claustrophobic, suffocating, deep waters one day into a spacious place. A place of rest. A place where I rest in his presence after a weary cling. A place where I can take a slow deep inhalation without worry of angry waves crashing into my face and filling my lungs. 

He has rescued me from the ultimate grave of hopelessness and will continue to rescue me to that spacious place because he delights in me. 

He delights in me. 

Not because of anything delightful within me, but because of who he is. He who has the power to shake the foundations of the earth delights in me. In you. This brings tears to my eyes: what mercy, kindness, and depth of love. 

He keeps the lamp of my faith burning. Yet, even in his delight he allows the darkness to fall before light chases its edges away. Still, I am called to trust and to say, "as for God his way is perfect; the word of the Lord is flawless." This doesn't mean the dark stormy waters are perfect or even good. Do not misunderstand me. It does however mean I can trust his reasons for allowing them. I can trust his presence, his arm reaching down to me amid the deep darkness and I can cling. 

Desperately. To him.