Behind the Pages


Excerpts from Breaking the Surface



From Chapter 1, God is a Slippery Fish

God is a strong tower, a mighty warrior, a refuge, a shield, a solid rock. He’s Someone who holds me close within the confines of sheltering wings. Yes, God is all of these things. But He’s also a slippery fish, swiftly squirming out of my toddler-like fingers every time I catch a glimpse of His glory. He’s a fish void of features or form, weight or color, size or sound. A fish with no beginning and no end. He’s something I can’t touch, taste, smell, hear or see. How can I possibly keep my mind on something I can’t hold in my hands or clearly picture in my thoughts? Every time I set my mind on God, He escapes my mental grasp and slips back beneath the surface of the racing stream that is my everyday life.

From Chapter 4, Who Am I and Who’s the Great I AM?

“Well, it’s, uh, bigger than I pictured it would be.” I could tell my husband was choosing his words as carefully as an explosives’ expert chooses which wire to cut when diffusing a bomb. After twenty years of marriage, my husband knew his response had the potential to be a peace offering or a weapon of mass destruction. He chose wisely—balancing truth with neutrality.

The guys at the tattoo parlor had been more outright complimentary. “Beautiful!” declared a leather-clad biker with a ZZ Top beard watching from an adjacent tattoo booth. I had to smile, despite the annoying prick of the needle injecting permanent ink beneath my skin. Beautiful! That’s what God says about me, I thought. That was the reason I chose to get a tattoo in the first place.

From Chapter 12, Life As a Living Stone

Kerosene or cold water…one or the other often seems to be thrown onto the fire of casual conversation when the subject of politics or religion enters a discussion. With such emotionally charged topics, it’s easy to slip from dialogue into monologue. After all, our side deserves to be heard. But as we climb onto our soapbox or into our pulpit, our conversation begins to sound more like a campaign or crusade. Everyone involved feels the pressure to choose sides, even if they haven’t really decided which side they are on. And once we choose a side, we feel obligated to defend it. We need to prove we made the right decision. We need to win.

Some people enjoy this kind of verbal boxing match. Not me. That’s why I rarely discuss politics or religion. As for God, well, He’s another’s matter altogether. I can talk about Him all day long. If I can’t keep quiet about a great new restaurant I’ve found or movie I’ve seen, how can I possibly remain silent about how God is radically transforming my life?