I’ve had this dream, over and over I’ve had it, about a giant wave coming from far away—towering over everything and casting a shadow on thousands of people as we watch it. It always starts out as a pleasant day on the beach. It always ends with me wondering why I decided to go to the beach, on this day of all days.
Every time, I go through the same set of thoughts.
- If I run as fast as I can it will still be too little too late. I can’t outrun it.
- There is nothing that could shelter me from the coming blast.
- While it’s taking a minute to get here, it will come, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
- Everyone here with me is going to get hit by it too.
- The only thing I can do is find something to hold on to.
And so I always end up running anyway, but not to try to get away. I run, looking at everything around me. Cars. Buildings. Mailboxes. Until I find an object that goes deep into the ground and that I think I can get a good grip on. It might be a tree, or a lamp post. But whatever it is I grab it with my arms and legs and hold on tight as I watch the giant wave coming in. And I hope, with everything that is in me, that I have chosen the right thing to hold on to. Because now it is too late to choose anything else.
Every time I see the news and every time I actually allow myself to think fully about what is happening in the world or how really scared I should be, I see the wave. It’s a vision almost now, more than a dream. I remember it as if it had really happened.
What am I holding on to? Is anything I’m holding on to something that will simply be crushed and washed away by the wave that is coming? Do I have time to adjust my grip? But it’s too late now, really to do much about what I’m holding on to. I can cling tighter to what I’ve already brought near, but I have no time to go looking for anything else. No time to develop a new heart attitude or place of trust. Things are frozen as I watch the wave.
We’re in the shadows now. It’s coming.
I know that it would be kinder to write something uplifting or hopeful. And I’d like to give you that. But what I really want to say is, make sure you are holding on the right things. Adjust your grip if you can. Don’t worry about anything that will be washed away.
The wave is coming. I’d better be holding on to God himself at this point, and hope that I have never made any substitutions. Never erected something in His place and given it His name. My faith is not enough. My religion is not enough. My church is not enough. My creeds are not enough. Only the Unmoved Mover of the Universe stand firm through tidal waves this big.
If it helps, the dream never ends with the wave crashing. I always look through the swirling chaos, and see light overhead. I find myself somehow letting go and navigating the water, knowing I still may yet surface. And it is almost fun. The wave is not the end at all—though the world behind me has surely been washed away and I will surface to find out what is left.
We have a moment now as the water recedes to leave dry land in front of us to feed the wall of water, and we hear the roaring of the approaching wave. Take a deep breath and hold on.