The Waves – The Christian Web of Apologetics |

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The waves are the wild poetry of the seas; the deaf man singing from nowhere, already defeated; the roar of battle and combat of matter, at merienda indomitable and docile, powerful and servant. Each wave has its own form, its rhythm and its message, and yet, at the wind's blow it is joined to other waves, and it makes a chorus before the beaches of far away lands. There are waves in the heart of man. Waves of unnamed passions that haughtily travel the stays of reason and lash the beaches of thought and of the word. Waves of pain that writhe in fury at the injustice of a fate that seems inadmissible. Waves of joy or pleasure that burst in tufts of foam and become laughter, sweet crying or shuddering song. Waves of mercy that rush against the walls of fratricidal egoism, and burst the barriers of hatred and envy. In truth, the human heart is like the ocean, and as he needs the power and the light of a new wind-the wind of the Spirit-to channel his strength and order to the cry of his yearnings. In his tumult the waves have I also learned the virtues of silence. The storm passes, and as recollect convent novices they say their little prayers in the sand of the coast. And they write names, and they wind their dreams, and in the ball of the snap of their tiny plumes they give a rhyme to the undaunted stars. All the greatness of their impetuous curls has been left behind. Obedient to the moon, serene and majestic, they calm and moderate, and then tell stories of other times, like that beautiful night in which the feet of Christ caressed their valleys and their crests, like garden of anthuriums, of begonias and jasmine. the rhythms of all the songs, and all the meters of all the poems, everything has been declaimed in those nights of maritime waves: The sentence of Pilate, in the saddest day in the world, and its painful impact on the souls of men ; the cry of those stones broken by their means before the exclamation of the Christ in agony; the orchestra and the choir of infinite hallelujahs of the Angels and Archangels on the day of Easter: everything has had its reflection in that coming and going of the waters and the seas. They are the waves as strange translation of the History of the men. And at the end of so much brio, and of such tasks without story, what remains in that sea? Is the message sterile and the tune absurd? Someone will be able to say it; you do not say it, that is a lie. On these beaches, tamed by the rigor of the waves, and in those countless sands of the coast, God wrote his first promise, "so that from one alone and already spent, children were born, numerous as the stars of Heaven, countless as the sands of the seashore "(Heb 11:12). Let me invite you to joy. God loves you; His love is eternal. By Pedazo de pan.Friday, 28 of 2000

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