I grew up within driving distance of the ocean, and we made
frequent trips. I love the pounding surf and the tide pools and the beaches and
the delicious meals the ocean provides.
A couple of decades ago, I was walking along an unfamiliar
beach during a storm, watching the rain’s effect on the sand, listening to the
surf pounding behind me, when my attention was drawn over my shoulder. I turned
and, not with my natural eyes, I saw a huge wave rise up from the surface of
the sea. When it reached its mighty height, way above the sea, it stopped, like
someone pressed pause.
The question came to me: “This is me. Shall it continue, or
shall it stop? There will be damage.” The wave just waited for my answer.
I thought for a moment; this was not an every-day experience
for me. But I’d learned to trust my father, and he’d already said this was him.
“It shall continue,” I said, and it did. The wave rushed to
the shore with a magnificent curl, and then far inland, miles inland, spilling
over houses and shopping malls and government buildings. Then it receded,
dragging a lot of dirt and detritus with it, leaving people stranded, separated,
unstable.
That vision has shaped me for decades; I’ve anticipated “the
move of God” as a wave, rising up from above the sea and crashing on the shores
of “business as usual,” catching everyone unawares. Sometimes I’d refer to this
vision as a tidal wave or a tsunami.
Many years later, a formidable earthquake struck just off
the coast of Japan. It was a big deal. It was also my first experience, albeit
only through the news, of an actual tsunami.
The tsunami did not act like I had always expected: a big
wave coming in and splashing, and then receding like every other wave. Instead,
this was more like the sea just rising, and rising, and rising. The wave just
kept coming, and didn’t just recede after a few seconds like I’d always
imagined.
The 2004 tsunami that devastated so much of Indonesia was
like that as well. This time the sea did draw way out in preparation for the
tidal wave, but then the wave came in, not like a wave, but like a tide, and it
wiped a great deal of civilization off of the islands in its path.
Recently, I’ve begun to wonder if the move of God that I’m
expecting (that we’re expecting) won’t be more like that: not so much a wave
that passes through, has an effect, and then moves on, but more like an
invasion, more like the tide rising.
Last night, a friend and I were talking about what God is up
to in our day. As we talked, we realized that there is a rising tide of what
God is doing among his people.
And as we talked, I realized that my ideas of the tidal wave
of God’s involvement in our midst is not going to just be another wave, larger
than the rest, washing us and moving on.
Those are fine, even good. But the thing on Father’s heart
is more of a rising tide, a true tidal wave, that is already begun, bringing
the water of his spirit, bringing refreshing, bringing devastation and
destruction to an awful lot of “business as usual,” particularly among the
church.
Suggestions for application:
• Pray for eyes to see what God is actually doing. It is not
what the media – not the mainstream media, not the Christian media – is
reporting.
• Press into what God is doing in order to find what your
place in this tidal wave is. I figure I have the choice of whether to be among
the devastation with my life destroyed by the wave, or among the first
responders, speaking the words of life in the midst of the new move.
• Keep building relationships. When this fully lands, life
won’t so much be found in jobs or possessions or church gatherings or places
where we’re used to finding stability. Life will be found in real
relationships.