Out of the depths, we cry to you;
the waters are rising, and there is no foothold.
We call out for rescue, ask you to pull us out;
but instead you dive in with us.
You are the One whose firm hand
is supposed to support us —
the One whose head will stay above the water,
the One whose feet will stay firmly on the rock,
the One who will hold us, against the current —
but instead you lean into our arms,
and we tremble.
For there is an undertow,
to these waters, to this season
and we are afraid that you will slip
from our grasp
into the deep
and we will have no choice
but to follow
or to lose
Liza B. Knapp 3.1.2020
for the First Church of Deerfield, MA
Photo by Linus Nylund on Unsplash