Sharks—they do one thing well: EAT. Hmm: me too—moving on…
A shark can be 39 feet long—the length of a small house. Some might perceive this makes this formidable creature very important. Even the big-mouthed bottom-dweller is pretty puffed up about its position, wielding those teeth like battle swords.
But being good at one thing, or even being perceived by guppies as untouchable, doesn’t make the hammerhead all that relevant. Noteworthy, yes (very!): but as I enjoy my excursion, and the sharks swim around me day after day, they’re just other fish in the sea.
In dangerous waters we must take care; but the age of the sharks, or lofty positions, or even how they perceive us, ought not to integrally affect our experience. Being gripped by fear is a great way to fall prey.
I’m not a strong swimmer—but as I wiggle through the crags, I often encounter blood-thirsty predators. So I try to remember to lock myself inside a strong cage—and remember that I remain chained to the Life Saver. It’s impossible to enjoy a day at the beach with every thought preoccupied with the shark’s next move. Therefore, my cage is weaved out of the powerful Word of God, and I am tethered forever to the One who has preserved me thus far.
And I love the beach! Each day has friends, fun, life, and light; a few scary critters can’t cause me to miss out. My focus is on the God of the land and sea; I fear Him, but without concern of harm—and His strength is changing me.
The big fish may continue to think themselves as grandiose at the center of the ocean—top of the food chain. But their inflated self-view, pathological expectations, and lack of empathy make them very small.
And I’m not on today’s menu.