It’s raining. The waves surge in and out of time with the windshield wipers. The rolling swells are endless, tireless, massive.
The thought occurs to me: “No wonder shores are sandy.” How could rocks ever resist such an onslaught over minutes and years? No one wave could pulverize rock into sand, but wave upon wave it is possible. Rocks standing buffeted and rebuked night and day give way to piles of soft sand.
The soul is the same.
There are few singular waves that can alter the soul. Perhaps death or tragedy, but so often it is not the isolated strike but the monotony that makes the change. I think this is why God punches us when we are already down. He’s pounding hard, prideful soul into soft, directable substance.
His efforts are endless, tireless, massive. But accordingly, he changes us wave upon wave.