The Deep End

God calls me into the deep end, but I don’t know how to float or swim. He tells me you didn’t know how to walk on water, but you kept your eyes on me through the storms. I say it’s different because I couldn’t drown in the rain. He says no, but you could’ve gotten stuck in your storm and drowned like others before.
God is holding me up in the water and tells me we’ll go up for air, but I’ll have to learn to hold my breath in the water I don’t know how to float or swim in. He asked me where my faith was, that I held on the surface. I beg him not to make it as if I am faithless. I am just afraid to drown in the water. I can’t float or swim in. He reminds me that I had to learn to walk on water. He reminds me that I wasn’t always the person you see today. I can no longer play in the water I am used to. Why play in a space that I am comfortable in? God calls me into the deep end where I don’t know how to float or swim in, but he tells me to keep my eyes and hands on him.