My sand I used to build upon, is now slowing melting down. Back into the sea it’s from, as the waves reach higher ground.
I call for help as I panic, grasping at melting sand, the one who controls the waves is near but where is His mighty hand?
Does He watch as I cry out for help? He has power over the sea, yet still the waves come reaching up, they soon even grasp at me.
The more I try to salvage, the stronger the tide starts to rise. Now my castle is one with the sea, which stretches far beyond the horizon.
I turn to the one who gave me the sand and ask why He stood still, as all I had done melted away by the tide rising up to steal.
But he never promised to stop the waves, He never said the tide wouldn’t take. He never said I would lose all I made or that the sand wouldn’t melt away.
Life changes more often than not, nothing is here to stay. The tide rises up eager for more then quickly slinks back away.
I can expect, look forward to even, the tide rising and falling. For it’s not the castles that God will protect but the hands that struggled to build them.
The sand is so weak, finicky at best. It gets washed away by even the mention of change. But it’s my God who stands against the waves, He’s the rock on the shore seas beat upon day after day.
But steadfast and sure when the tide rises up, I can climb on the rock where the tide reaches not. Though my castles will melt and wash away to unknowns. My rock is unchanging, the everlasting stone.
The tide can grasp and reach it’s highest, it may splash me with fear and doubt, but I look down at where my feet lay and know I have nothing to worry about.