Sunday, February 01, 2009


Swimming in the icy waters of the Georgian bay this summer, I once again found that my breath was taken away not by the coldness, but by the incredible depth and clarity of the water. I was suspended over a deep canyon, its rocky bottom only slightly obscured by the tens of feet of water between it and me.

Water is often the thing we turn to whenever we try to understand depth, in any sense of the word. Strangely enough, it is often the cloudy or dark water that seems the deepest; it is doubly unfathomable (there's another water reference!), for we cannot reach nor see the bottom.

Depth, I believe, is something we all long for. No one wants to be shallow. But what kind of depth is it? Is it that kind of deepness of personality that is born of suffering, or the ability to think about things far enough to have them change you? Or that perception that is able to understand the essential things about someone? There is a clear depth like the waters of the Georgian bay, coming from a continued fight for authenticity and integrity. Then there is the kind that I think we are all more familiar with: that borne of such complexity within ourselves that we don't even understand our own ways. But it's not just in ourselves that we seek depth.

This week as I've been reflecting on this topic, I've been rejoicing in that ultimate source of all depth: our God. The hymn from Romans 11 comes to mind:
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
Some days I am exhausted by the struggle that is daily spiritual life and lament my limited understanding of God. Yet isn't this one of the most wonderful things about him? He certainly deserves praise without end, for we will never run out of things for which to praise him!


  1. Hmm, thanks for this sister. Depth is, somewhat indirectly, exactly what I've been pondering this week.

    Nice imagery too.

  2. I thoroughly enjoyed reading your various blogs. Each one had a richness of its own. Like 'fogcat' I appreciate the imagry.
    Today we were talking with Herb R. about the church, doing and being. Like you I find the EC intriging because what we do now so often seems like just a ritual. Yet, I value truth and certainty and breaking from tradition brings fears that perhaps truth will be lost in a search for innovation. In my personal search, last night I was reading about Celtic spirituality online--its tenents and prayers. Some of it is very good, but some of it I could never be comfortable with. What I like about Revelation is that someday we will know truly how to worship and live--the way God had in mind.