The Start That Stops Most

There's something both terrifying and magnificent about the ocean. Seventy percent of our planet is covered by water—vast, mysterious, and largely unexplored. The deepest trenches plunge over seven miles beneath the surface, places where darkness reigns and only the most determined explorers dare to venture. Yet it's in these depths where the most extraordinary discoveries await.

This physical reality mirrors a profound spiritual truth: the wonders of God are found in the deep.

Psalm 107 contains a remarkable passage that speaks directly to those willing to venture beyond the comfortable shallows: "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep."

Notice the distinction here. Not everyone sees God's wonders. Only those who venture into great waters—far from shore, far from the familiar, far from what's comfortable—these are the ones who witness the mighty works of God.

The wading pools along the shoreline are crowded. Plenty of people splash around in the shallows, content with what they can touch with their feet, never venturing where they can't see the bottom. But there are no wonders there. The wonders are reserved for those willing to launch out into the deep.

Here's a fundamental truth that stops most people before they even begin: you can't go and stay at the same time.

To arrive at your destination, you must depart from where you are. To experience what God has for you, you must leave behind what you've become comfortable with. The familiar must give way to the unfamiliar. The known must surrender to the unknown.

This is the start that stops most people. They hear the call. They sense the stirring. They catch a glimpse of the vision God has placed in their heart. But when it comes time to actually cast off from shore, to leave the safety of land behind, they hesitate. They delay. They compromise. And eventually, that glorious dream begins to erode under the weight of the mundane and the ordinary.

life of faith isn't like traveling on land where we have maps, GPS, street signs, and mile markers. Faith is a sea voyage. It's fluid, ever-changing, unpredictable. There are no trails to cut, no landmarks to follow, no beaten paths to retrace.

This is why the early church used aquatic symbols—ships, fish, anchors. This is why Jesus conducted so much of His ministry on or around water. This is why eight of His disciples were fishermen. They understood something essential about the kingdom of God: it requires navigation, not just information.

The sea has a rhythm, and those who sail it learn to discern that rhythm even in their sleep. They can tell when they're off course by the feel of the waves, the sound of the wind. Similarly, those who walk deeply with God develop a spiritual sensitivity—an ability to discern His voice, to feel when they're drifting from His purposes, to sense the movement of His Spirit.

It's no coincidence that Scripture connects power over the sea with power over demonic forces. When Jesus calmed the storm on His way to Gadara, He was demonstrating His authority over the spiritual forces of darkness that would manifest in the demoniac He was about to encounter.

The deep is where the real battle takes place. This isn't a conflict of politics, parties, or people groups. This is spiritual warfare against powerful, twisted, rebellious, raging spirits of darkness. To underestimate this reality is a terrible mistake.

Victory over these forces doesn't come to those who remain in the shallows. It comes only to those who have ventured into the deep, who have learned to navigate troubled waters, who have faced the chaos and emerged transformed.

Genesis 1:2 presents us with the primordial picture: "The earth was without form and void. Darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters."

Out of chaos and depth, God brings forth creation. But notice the process: two things work together to activate formation—the moving of the Spirit and the spoken Word.

This same pattern appears throughout Scripture. At Sinai: Spirit (lightning, thunder, wind) followed by Word (tablets of law). At Pentecost: Spirit (rushing wind, tongues of fire) followed by Word (speaking in heavenly languages). The result? A people are formed. A nation is born.

The same is true in individual lives. Spiritual formation begins when the Spirit of God moves upon a person and speaks a word into their depths. But here's what many miss: this requires going to a place of silence, of shutting out the noise, of facing what's in the deep.

We live in a world addicted to noise. Headphones constantly plugged in, music always playing, screens always glowing. We're terrified of silence because we're afraid of what we might hear in the quiet—that still, small voice that's always speaking if we'll only listen.

God is of the deep. He won't compete with the noise. To hear Him, to know Him, to be formed by Him requires venturing into the depths of silence, solitude, and surrender.

When God calls someone, it's a sovereign act. He doesn't apologize for it. He fully expects a response. Throughout history, ordinary people living ordinary lives have suddenly been interrupted by a divine call so powerful, so gripping, that they were willing to lose everything just to follow it.

Think of Paul on the Damascus road—all his education, all his determination, all his religious zeal meant nothing when the call came. He was left face down in the dirt, his life completely redirected.

Think of John the Baptist—his entire life centered on one message: "Prepare the way." His ministry lasted only a few days. He lived in the wilderness, wore rough clothes, ate locusts and honey. His life was cut short by vicious, drunken adulterers. Yet Jesus said no prophet was greater.

The length of a life doesn't matter to God. His mission does. His purposes transcend our physical welfare. This is a hard truth, but it's foundational: we don't matter; His mission does. True spiritual formation begins when we understand this and surrender accordingly.

Everyone has an edge—a point beyond which the maps say "here be dragons." It's that place where the familiar ends and the unknown begins. It's the moment when God asks you to step out, to go deeper, to risk everything for what He's called you to do.

For Jonah, it was the call to Nineveh. For Israel, it was the Red Sea. For Jesus, it was His baptism. For Paul, it was Damascus.

What will yours be?

Many will never know their full potential because they're afraid of the deep. They're afraid to shut out the noise. They're afraid of the call. They settle for the shallows where it's safe, where they can see the bottom, where everyone else is content to wade.

But the wonders aren't there.

The wonders are in the deep.

Luke 5:4 records Jesus' words to Simon: "Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch."

Launch. It's an action word. It requires movement, risk, faith. It means leaving the shore behind and trusting the unseen depths.

This isn't a journey for the fearful or the conservative or the cowardly. It's God's way. As Psalm 77:19 declares, "Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters."

The question isn't whether God is calling. He's always calling, always speaking, always inviting us deeper. The question is whether we'll respond. Whether we'll face our defining moment and step out. Whether we'll silence the noise long enough to hear His voice. Whether we'll surrender our plans, our comfort, our safety for the sake of His mission.

The wonders of God await in the deep. But they're reserved for those willing to make the voyage—those who will do business in great waters, who will navigate by His Spirit and His Word, who will face the chaos and the darkness knowing that He who calmed the storm is in the ship.

The deep is calling. Will you answer?