Already. Not yet.

"For such a time as this" has been a phrase on my mind the last few days.
But how is it that God is so near, and yet so far?

I catch myself dissing her – there is a sense of betrayal. One that really should not be allowed to fester.

Forgiveness, then, is key. Or, is it?

Going deep – learning to, at least

Bali deep week day 1: it was easy re-introduction back into the water – surprisingly easy, until right at the end, and then bam – one missed equalisation later, the sinus strikes.
Day 2: Dives not past 8m and then FIM to 17m right at the end
Day 3: easy hang at 10m, FIM to 20, CNF to 15 x3, CWT to 18m

Conversations were interesting and varied today. Why freediving? A lot of it is the challenge but also the draw of it being satisfying, something that needs to be reached.

Lisa's story sticks with me – a form of hideout, falling into the discovery of it. Roger and Tony; the openness and inclusivity. Michael and Joey, wanting to travel through Asia.

God, where does this lead to? A reminder that this is not just me, not just a livelihood.

Teach me to be like Jesus, who came to serve, to seek and save those of us who are lost.
Teach me how to love like He did, in truth and compassion – sacrificially.
Teach me the ways that You call good and righteous, to walk the journey of faith.

For Deep Week, Lord, open my eyes to You: show me where You are in this sport/hobby, where You are already at work in the lives of those around me.

I'm somewhat afraid to ask Lord – mostly because I'm unsure of my motivations. Give me time with M, Lord. And good conversations during that time – meaningful and memorable ones. God, I wonder if You have put her on my heart and I wonder if I am drawn to her, in ways that I wish I didn't. I find it serendipitous that A and her are obviously friends. And that, by virtue of Alan being on her buoy on the first day, there are connections.

But even with the rest; those of whom I'm unsure of, those whom I have overlooked. God, will you show me the way to their hearts, show me what this is about freediving that you have called me to. I have questions; a community? Being known in circles? What happens? But God, I know You are with me, and I know Your grace is enough for me, and I know You will lead me in the way I should go. So help me – and to that, I know, You will help me.

Lord, have full reign in my life. There's an urgency to the days, and I pray that I will see You, know You and love You. More and more and more.

Playing catch up ... and waiting

Confessions are good for the soul, they say. And J's circumstances have stirred an outpouring of my heart to N; I wonder, if this was reckless. I told L, with a motives to be trusted. But I told N, almost at the end of our talk, because, ...?

But I remember the exact point, right at those block of flats, after the futsal courts. I blurted it out awkwardly. I was tearing before that, thinking about how I'd miss J. In a way, I allowed myself to tear up, allowed the emotions to surface.

She's the first to know about those suicidal thoughts and the words of freedom and that aversion/draw to disasters and pain and that weird attraction. She says I see the dots. She says she needs to wait.

Israel: the presence of God; seek His face, seek Him.

Other thoughts: Being chased. chasing time. appearances. physical highs.

If You are choosing not to heal, is it still right to feel sad?  what would You have us feel? and aside, how would you have me live? I wonder if I feel the pain of God, again? or still do? maybe, ever have?

J is part of that cloud of witnesses, one of many, but one whom I love.

Irrevocable, she said.

A tuning fork; resonance.
Knit in love. Two hands, and more, to clap and make music for His heart.

"It must be different through Your eyes" and so goes the lyrics. "Consider others better than yourself... a service, a love.

And then the moment she suggested that string of stories, my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I got the heck out of the office.

Your hand –

A gathering.
Lingering.

My heart warmed.
Blessed.

Keeping in step.
A friend to walk alongside – or run, as it were, tonight.
There is beauty in covering ground step by step, beauty in watching another pair of feet, beauty in the tandem movement.

Genetically pre-disposed towards a lack of fitness? Yes. Indeed. Does that make me stronger? Not by any worldly standards. But I can see now, that refusal to give up: Stubborn in a deluded way.

One to help keep you going. A confession, a kind word.
I think things really got going after Doulos – the kindness and warmth of others. Keller makes sense. So much sense. And then in SA.

Things about the inner life: It's priority. The complexity of it. Solitude. And the cure – of seeing it all come back to Jesus.
A priority that I never acknowledged until I nearly broke. The complexity that surpassed the simplistic and avoidant worldview that I've held: Not recognising, until now, the value of emotions. Feeling hints of it, but never being able to put it into words. The physical-ness of it didn't matter, but existentially, I was dead inside. Morally too – consumed by the failure I saw myself as. Cant remember the others. But faith saved me: the Bible, and my Christian upbringing, told me that God has made sense. Yancey showed some of the way, shed light on some of it.
But the solitude – that did not hit home until recently. The "enough-ness" of God.

And then when he spoke about knowing the Gospel, letting it break through into our heart over and over and over? That is me, under the water. Every single time.

But oh, the wind! I remember kite-surfing. The power of it. If that is what gives life, and sustains life, even in the midst of it, I want that. I want the Spirit of God.

These reflections --- so far from the original intention to admire the beauty of His orchestrating hand.

And she couldn't understand Keller? She's smart. How does she not get it? 

Where the Spirit is

Is where I want to want to be.
But watching the celebration after each dive,
that splashing, I recognise.
I remember being surprised before I realised it was a celebration

Good vibes are hard to come by
And I cannot deny this affinity I feel
But Lord, let me be grounded in a holy fear of You
And let me be a vessel of love.

Where can I go from Your presence?

You call me Brave. You call me Beloved.

Those are names far from my mind. Like Peter, I do not live up to Your name for me; I fall and stumble, the stones give way beneath my feet as I quickly move the other forward. Quickly, however, is a relative term. My legs feel worn from the swim back to shore. Lactic acid burns, the muscles using up the available oxygen in the bloodstream. My wetsuit is waterlogged and heavy – a natural, but still embarrassing, mix of pee and seawater.

I stumble onto dry land, breathless and relieved. Shaken by the nausea I'm fighting to keep at bay and the many failed attempts of equalising at depth – depth, being the generic term of being underwater and in no way reflective of the word "deep".

You call me Brave. You call me Beloved.

Names that I forget when my mind is pre-occupied with the buildup of pressure in my ear and the anticipation of pain that will come with failure. No baby pulls! Poomp! Encouragement, coaching that flies past my beleaguered mind.

The next day, on a successful dive, I come up smiling, surprised and comforted – I am getting the hang of this. See, it's all up here, she smiles reassuringly as she taps my head with her snorkel. It is, I know. My fears are many.

Brave is a name that is hard to remember. And so is Beloved.
[Coaching with Dabot]


You call me Brave. You call me Beloved.

These are my names that I will learn to own. [Trepidation as I prepare to go home.]


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Accepting the name brave is disconcerting. It means I acknowledge the litany of fears that lurk within.

"Be brave!" When the discomfort builds, don't hesitate. Relax, and pull.

Freedive training has been enlightening to say the least. And it ended well;


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