Deep Calls to Deep

I think I am very blessed because occasionally, as I stumble down the road of life, I remember to follow my heart. It’s becoming more frequent but for now I can only be glad for the rare times that it happens.

This summer I decided to begin reading through Proverbs, one chapter every day, each chapter corresponding to the day of the month. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I thought I’d try, at least. I have found this book to be a pleasure to read. It’s delightful to read something out of Proverbs and be reminded of something Jesus said; it’s exciting to find that I am that familiar with the Bible.

On Sunday I read:

“The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters, but a man of understanding draws them out.” Proverbs 20:5

First I was reminded of Psalm 42:7;

“Deep calls to deep in the sound of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and breakers have swept over me.”

Then I thought, is this man of understanding supposed to be Jesus?

So I checked to see if that verse referenced any other verses and found that it did:

“He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters.” Psalm 18:16

I suddenly felt the desire to be alone with these verses somewhere where I could hear the crash of water, the roar of the deep. The desire was nearly overwhelming and I knew I would have to find the chance to escape as soon as possible. I called Cora Monday afternoon to get a few ideas and Tuesday I embarked on a mini adventure at Silver Falls State Park.

I left the Emersons’ just past 7:00, just as the sun lifted her warm, brazen face over the mountains and began to fight off the cold and the clouds. It was a beautiful morning but too early to know who the victor would be, sun or clouds, and I found myself wondering whether I’d brought enough clothes. The drive took longer than I expected but I love the country so I leaned into the curves of the road with zeal and wound my way to the park.

I reached the trail head and gazed along the path. I’d been to Silver Falls State Park only once, about three years ago, so today I would be exploring. I spent some time feeling indecisive; where should I start? Where should I go? I first tried Upper North Falls but, once I got there, decided that was not where I was meant to be. I finally decided on North Falls and took off along the Canyon Trail.

It was short but sweet. The path followed alongside the creek. I walked along, staring at the forest, until I came upon a set of stairs. I walked down the stairs, wondering when I would cross the creek and how close the waterfall was, then realized that the creek was plunging downward right beside me. The stairs ended and the path curved abruptly back on itself. The trail seemed to be carved out of rock that jutted out over the path. If I was taller, I would have to stoop. The trees blocking my view of the waterfall thinned and I saw that all the water shot out of a small fissure of rock and tumbled 136 feet to a dark pool below. Looking up, it seemed as if the forest ended abruptly. How can the forest sit on that slab of rock? I wondered, for just below the forest a rock cliff protruded, like a child’s pouty lower lip, and rolled back in to create a cavern-like indentation. The path was etched through the back of the cavern, behind the waterfall.

I was delighted. Ideally, I had wanted to sit behind a waterfall, but short of a 5 mile hike along Eagle Creek in the Gorge, I had no idea where to find a waterfall I could sit behind. God had provided. There were even little benches set up inside the cavern.

I “set up camp” on one bench, pulling out my journal, Bible, and pens. I opened my journal and wrote:

“Deep calls to deep in the sound of Thy waterfalls; all Thy breakers and Thy waves have rolled over me.”

Pushing me down, pushing, pushing, encouraging me toward the depths of my own heart.
Who are you? What are you doing here?

Pushing. Deeper.

I must search the deep.

I thought of the time I got stuck in a riptide at Rockaway Beach. The surf had pounded against me, pushing me down. But I had a pfd on and I could only go down so far before I popped back up.

Then I thought of the time I listened to a speaker from Imago Dei tell of an experience he had while surfing. A wave had crashed over him and pulled him down, down, down. Somewhere down there, under the ocean, time stopped for the intrepid surfer and he experienced God; the deep pounded around him like a heartbeat of enormous proportions. He did not fear; God is love.

All Thy breakers and Thy waves have rolled over me, pushing me down.

I don’t want a life jacket for this; I don’t want to hover at the surface.

My voice sounded small next to the roar of the waterfall. I was attempting lectio divina, “sacred reading”. It was sacred; God was there. I invited Him to be a part of what I was doing and then I corrected myself:

No, I’m asking that I can share this with You; that You’ll let me be a part of what You’re doing.

Deep calls to deep… it’s the searching of the Holy Spirit within my own soul. “Do you trust Me?” He asks. Mostly I do, Lord. In my mind, certainly. In my heart? Mostly.

“He reached down and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters.” Psalm 18:16

I was here reminded of the lyrics of my current theme song:

Whatever You’re doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but somehow there’s peace
And though it’s hard to surrender
To what I can’t see
I’m giving in to something heavenly

Except I’m lacking the peace part I wrote.

I began to think of how, in training, we learned that if ever we got stuck swimming in a low head dam, we would need to allow the current to sweep us to the bottom of the river, then crawl along the bottom until we were free of the swirling current. That is the only way out. Horror story! I think it would be natural for any human (who wasn’t in counter panic) to try and fight their way out. I would probably swim my hardest to try and get out - and get wrapped up in all the debris also stuck in the churning waters.

I am stuck in chaotic, churning waters. I’m struggling, constantly struggling, trying to find the surface. In my attempts I am merely entangling myself worse than before, creating more sin and attempting to avoid facing the consequences thereof.

This song by Sanctus Real uses the word “surrender”. Have I done that? I’m experiencing the chaos but not so much the peace. If I surrender, I am assured that He will reach down from on high and take hold of me and draw me out of deep waters. Why? Because He delights in me (Psalm 18:19b). So simple.

Deep calls to deep. The Holy Spirit is present. Surrender to Jesus, to God, and let Him draw me out. Me! The King of heaven and earth asks me to surrender so He can draw the Raychel He created out of deep waters and allow her to stand, free of sin, and live a life worthy of the calling of Jesus.

“I love You, oh Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies…
“He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me.”
Psalm 18:1-3, 16-19

Personality Profile

The other day my director, Curt, handed me a small stack of papers and said, “Would you take these personality tests and get them back to me as soon as you can?”

My reaction was funny, but typical (for me). Inside I couldn’t wait to get those tests alone and figure myself out. Outwardly I balked, claiming that if I took the test Curt would merely “box” me and never allow me to be “just me” again.

“No,” he explained, “these are just to help me figure out how you’re going to fit into the team.”
“Exactly!” I declared, “You’re going to let this personality test tell you how to treat me. I’m not sure this is a good idea at all.”

I then scampered immediately to my desk and started taking the test. This test has 40 rows, each row made up of four words that begin with the same letter. I was to mark the word that described me the best. The words didn’t necessarily have to relate to each other in any way such as this row: planner, patient, positive, promoter. Or this row: daring, delightful, diplomatic, detailed (I picked “delightful”, of course).

I remember one row of “s” words: sure, spontaneous, scheduled, shy. I checked “sure” and then sat there for 10 minutes trying to figure out if that was right. I finally laughed, erased the check next to “sure”, and checked a different word.

Another row went: adventurous, adaptable, animated, analytical. I took this to Cora and said, “I don’t think I’m any of these! We all know I’m not really adventurous, it’s something I’ve been working on. I’m not a big fan of change so I wouldn’t say I’m adaptable. I can be animated but it really just depends on my mood. Maybe that’s the closest -”

“Raychel, didn’t you say one was “analytical”? Check that one.”

It took me a few hours, asking a couple friends’ opinions, and much laughter before I finally finished the test (Cora said Curt gave her that test months ago and she just keeps forgetting to do it so I guess a few hours isn’t too bad). I tallied up the points and discovered…

I have multiple personalities.

It’s true; I scored “13” for two personality types and “12” for a third. No wonder I have issues!
My 13s were “sanguine” and “philegmatic”; my 12 was “melancholy”. I received a “2” for choleric; I could have told you before taking the test that I wasn’t choleric.

When I discovered my multiple personalities, I brought the test back to Curt. “Ha! I win! You can’t box me; I’m everything.” I felt a little smug.

Curt took the test from me and looked it over. “This is good,” he said. “This means you have all of these attributes. Of course, there’s a lot of tension between the “sanguines” and the “melancholies” so I’ll bet you have a lot of conflict going on inside you. And if you’re also “philegmatic” that tension’s probably never being resolved.

He made me feel like a bomb about to explode.

But, whatever, part of me continues to worry that I did something wrong and wonder if I should retake the test. Another part of me is glad that my inability to figure myself out has finally been explained. I have a few friends who think they’ve figured me out. They just don’t understand that I’m incomprehensible. If you ever decide that you have someone figured out, please keep in mind that you are seeing them through the filter of yourself, not objectively as you would like to think. If you have someone “figured out” you probably don’t know them at all.

I’m a moody person; I don’t know why, I just am. The same comment made by two different people, or the same person at different times, will effect me differently. My reaction depends on where I’m standing, what I’m wearing, how I feel about that, how I feel in general, where the other person’s standing, their body language, the last thing they said to me, how well I know them, how I know them, how tired I am, what time of the month it is, the list is inexhaustible.

There’s really no reason for me to write all this out except that I love to write my thoughts out. Except, as I type that I realize that there is some point to this. In my search to figure myself out I have discovered much of who I want to be. I want the ability to laugh at my faults, because I know that I am human and with that comes imperfection. But in order to be able to laugh at my faults, I must gain humility and accept my faults as part of who I am.

I have faults, and it’s easy to admit that, but when anyone gets into the specifics of what those faults are, I’m more than likely to get snappy. Yet I want to be the type of person who can admit those faults, and laugh them off. Not carelessly, as though they don’t matter, but humorously, able to see the fallibility of my own self.

I have had much time to think through some of this stuff and have just deleted quite a few hurtful sentences about one friend in particular. I had taken out her name but, if she had read this, she would have known right away that it was she I wrote of, and I think I would have badly hurt her feelings.

I have always considered myself “inconsistent” but recently I came to the conclusion that that’s not the problem. I am consistent; when I am tired I get snappy and sensitive; when I am not tired I am pleased to joke around.

A few mornings ago at YD, we were given the opportunity to share what we did over Labor Day weekend. I got snappy trying to describe a tree that I had fallen in love with at the Rose Gardens; one friend began making fun of me and then another said, “If this is how it’s going to go, this is going to take a long time.” I already didn’t want to be there. I am not necessarily physically tired but I am emotionally drained and, that morning, those stupid comments pushed me over the edge.

“You guys are pissing me off. Sorry, I’m really tired, but you are.” I then shut down and didn’t say another word but thought many sarcastic and cutting things as everybody else shared.

Throughout the next couple days I proceeded to feel ugly, angry, resentful, morbid. I hurt and wanted to blame someone for the pain. I felt ugly and I wanted to hide that from other people. I was unlovable and it made me hate everyone.

Yes, I heard It, though I barely listened to It the first time. Fortunately, the message was repeated the next day through Harmony who pulled me aside and said, “Raychel, you are loved. Even when you feel like this and you think you are unlovable, you are loved.”

I hadn’t said anything to anybody.

This is supposed to be about my personality and instead it’s becoming spiritual. But, really, how can we take the spiritual out of real life? It’s there, whether we recognize it or not; and I have no idea how much the spiritual has to do with my personality. What I do know is that I need the Holy Spirit to teach me how to deal with the person I am. I have been thinking a lot about the ticking bomb words Curt spoke to me and I realize that there really is a lot of conflict inside of me, and I have no idea how to deal with it. But I’m going to have to figure that out before I explode.

It’s happened before; I have snapped, cracked into a million pieces. I seriously thought about how freeing it would be just to die and not have to cry, to feel the pain, anymore. I don’t want to go through that again. Thankfully, this time I know I belong to a God who also wants to see me heal and become whole. I think a lot of what I’m battling right now is Him opening up my soul and cleaning out all the crumb and filth. I wish we could do it painlessly but God doesn’t work like that because we humans don’t grow like that.

Jesus felt the weight of all the world’s sins on His sinless shoulders. Perhaps God is just giving me a small taste of what He went through so I can learn how much that sacrifice meant.
Meanwhile, I have to learn how to deal with conflict in a healthy way before I explode. And I have to learn that I am loved, even when I feel unlovable.

I actually feel a strong urge to run away right now, and I think it’s a healthy urge. I have been busy, busy, busy, doing, doing, doing, for a long, long time and I need a break. I need some time to seek God in silence and solitude. I need the opportunity to listen, without dogs barking or time constraints. The only problem is, I can’t follow through with this urge.

Tick, tick, tick…