Quiet Time Series: Deep Calls to Deep

When God’s Waves Wake Your Soul

The Roar Beneath the Calm

“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.” — Psalm 42:7

There are scriptures you read, and there are scriptures you feel. Psalm 42:7 has always felt alive to me, as if the words themselves pulse with the tide. The psalmist describes God’s presence not as calm still waters but as waterfalls, breakers, and waves—overwhelming, uncontainable, forceful. That alone shifts how I view God. He’s not just the Shepherd who leads me beside quiet waters (Psalm 23:2); He’s also the Creator who invites me to stand under the roar of something greater than I can control.

And when I think of that, I can’t help but remember the mornings I stand at the water’s edge in Playa Del Rey. The horizon stretches wide, planes take off from LAX, and the waves come with a rhythm that refuses to be tamed. I always leave feeling both smaller and stronger—small in comparison to the ocean’s vastness, stronger because I know the One who commands it.

Laughter in the Breakers

One Saturday morning, I braved the pull of the Pacific before sunrise. The beach was quiet except for me, a few birds, and the steady crash of waves. I had barely reached the water’s edge when a wave surged in, crashing against me harder than I expected. It soaked my clothes and sent me stumbling, but instead of retreating, I laughed out loud.

Others around me would’ve stepped back, trying to preserve their comfort, but I leaned in. That single moment became a metaphor: sometimes the wave that disrupts your footing is the very wave that wakes you up.

Thomas Merton once wrote, “We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through it all the time.” That morning, I felt it. The wave wasn’t just water; it was a reminder that God isn’t predictable. He meets me with tenderness, but He also meets me with force—pulling me into awareness, reminding me that I can’t stay numb or half-asleep.

The Pull Toward Depth

Psalm 42:7 reminds me that God doesn’t speak to the shallow parts of my life. His deep calls to my deep. It’s resonance, not coincidence. The God who formed the ocean is the same God who stirs the hidden places in me—the longing, the fear, the courage I didn’t know I had.

C.S. Lewis once said, “We are half-hearted creatures… when infinite joy is offered us.” The breakers don’t allow half-heartedness. They crash with authority. They remind me that shallow water never satisfies, no matter how safe it feels. God’s call into the deep isn’t comfortable, but it’s always life-giving.

And this isn’t abstract—it’s happened in my own life. Whether through stepping into seasons of independence as a single woman, or facing unexpected moments of loss and healing, God has never let me stay in shallow waters. He keeps calling me deeper, even when I resist.

Safe in the Surge

The force of the ocean can feel terrifying. Standing in front of something that could sweep me away should trigger fear. Yet Isaiah 43:2 steadies me: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.” God doesn’t promise no storms; He promises His presence in the storm.

And that presence calls me to live honestly. Jungkook of BTS once said—borrowing from Nirvana’s lyric—“I’d rather be dead than cool.” At first glance, it sounds harsh. But to me, it’s about authenticity. It’s about refusing to perform for approval or live surface-level. God’s breakers crash with the same message: I wasn’t created to fake it. I was created to live real, raw, surrendered, no matter how the waves roar.

Soul Insights

1. Laughter as Surrender

When the wave crashed against me and laughter spilled out, I realized that surrender doesn’t always look solemn—it can sound like joy. Fear would have told me to run, to step back onto safe ground. But laughter said, “I am safe even here.” That shift is what faith does. It takes what could overwhelm me and turns it into something playful, almost like God saying, “See? You’re not as fragile as you thought.” Surrender doesn’t shrink me—it expands me, creating room for God’s presence to move even in the chaos.

2. Resonance, Not Coincidence

The reason Psalm 42:7 keeps surfacing in my life isn’t chance; it’s resonance. The deep in me responds to the deep in Him, the way one note on a guitar string causes another string to hum in sympathy. My prayers, my tears, even my laughter at the water’s edge—they’re all responses to His call. What I once thought were random alignments are actually invitations. God isn’t wasting my moments. He’s tuning my soul to His pitch, and every wave is part of that divine song.

3. Depth Requires Discomfort

The waves aren’t comfortable. They sting my skin, knock me off balance, and sometimes leave me shivering. But here’s the truth: shallow waters never change me. They might feel safe, but they don’t stretch my faith. Growth often feels like discomfort, like the jolt of cold water or the pressure of sand shifting beneath my feet. God doesn’t call me deeper to punish me; He calls me deeper because transformation can’t happen in the shallows. Faith without risk stays small. Faith with discomfort becomes resilient.

4. Movement Keeps Me Steady

I noticed something while standing in the waves: when I stood still too long, the sand began to pull me under. My feet sank slowly, locking me in place. But when I kept moving—even just shifting my steps—the water couldn’t topple me. Faith works the same way. Stillness without trust sinks me; movement in God steadies me. Sometimes I think protecting my heart means freezing, but the truth is, protection looks more like motion—taking steps with Him even when I don’t see the whole map. Walking in faith isn’t about never being shaken. It’s about stepping anyway, eyes fixed on Jesus.

5. God Is Both Whisper and Roar

It’s tempting to want God only in His whispers—gentle, soft, easy to process. But He is also the roar, the crash, the breaker that knocks me into surrender. Both matter. The whisper nurtures me; the roar wakes me. Together, they strip away my illusions. They remind me that God is not tame, and neither is His love. The sooner I embrace that paradox, the freer I become. I don’t need Him to be predictable; I need Him to be real. And in both His whispers and His roars, He always is.

Final Thoughts

Psalm 42:7 doesn’t describe a safe faith. It describes a disruptive one. It tells me that God’s love doesn’t just soothe—it awakens. His waves don’t ask permission; they crash with authority. And while part of me fears the force, the deeper part of me craves it, because I know it’s the only place my soul feels truly alive.

The ocean has become my teacher. Each breaker is a sermon in motion, reminding me that God doesn’t settle for surface-level encounters. He wants my depth, my honesty, my whole heart. And He keeps calling me deeper, even when I resist. The question isn’t whether the waves will come—they will. The question is: when they come, will I laugh, surrender, and step into them? Or will I shrink back to the shallows, trying to keep myself dry?

And maybe that’s the invitation. To stop fearing the force, and instead trust that the One who commands the waves is also the One who holds me fast. The deep in me longs for the deep in Him. And in that resonance, I find both joy and courage.

Self Reflection

1. How do I usually respond when life’s “waves” crash into me—fear, resistance, or laughter?

2. Where is God inviting me to leave shallow waters and step into something deeper right now?

3. Do I allow God to meet me in both His whispers and His roars, or do I cling to only one?

Your Turn

🌊 The deep is calling. Where is God inviting you right now—to let go, to laugh, to step forward into the breakers? Share your reflections below. Your story might be the resonance someone else needs today.

Soul Path Insights