The waters do not always announce themselves. Sometimes they arrive as sorrow that won't leave, prayers that seem unanswered, burdens carried in silence, or nights so heavy that morning feels impossible.
We fight. We endure. We reach for anything that might keep us above the surface.
Yet hope is rarely born in calm waters.
It shows up in the storm.
It shows up when strength has run out.
It shows up when the world says, "This is the end," and a quiet voice answers, "Not yet."
This piece is not about a man reaching toward God.
It is about God reaching toward a man.
The difference is everything.
Because faith is not always holding on to Him. Sometimes faith is trusting that He is still holding on to us when our hands are too tired to hold on any longer.
And maybe that has always been the question:
If God has never stopped reaching for us, what keeps us from taking His hand?