Our souls are deep, and it takes a lot to satisfy them.  And there is so much that doesn't really deeply satisfy. 

Jesus, the crowds, and the disciples were having a meaningful time of teaching and learning in the context of the above passage - the people on the shore, Jesus out a little ways in a boat, talking to them, and the disciples hanging out, soaking up Jesus' words.  This is wonderful.  Hearts are being touched, challenged, shown a way, given hope.

Then Jesus disrupts the peaceful scene by asking the disciples to go out into the deep water and put down their nets for a catch.  For some reason, despite the fact that they had fished all night out there and caught nothing (and they voiced their protest), they decided to do what he said.  You may know the story.  The result was overwhelming, literally. 

Now God knows, better than us for sure, that all that we long for is not on the shore, however peaceful, safe, and satisfying at some level that may be. 

It can be a bit scary to ask ourselves the question, "How satisfied is my soul?"  Answering that question honestly may put us in touch with dissatisfactions and unmet longings that we feel incapable of satisfying on our own, so it is easier to just ignore them and/or pretend that our souls are more satisfied than they really are, thereby staying on the shore, trying to make the good that we've got enough to satisfy us. ("I shouldn't be this unhappy - after all, look at all the good in my life!")

But what if it is God that is stirring up our desires for something more, something deeper, something more satisfying to our souls?  What if it isn't just our ungrateful unwillingness to be content with what we have?  What if it is God who is inviting us to be honest that what we have does not deeply satisfy the hearts he gave us?

I'm afraid too much of the time I am simply piling more food on myself, when I am already stuffed. I never get really hungry.  It's like I am afraid to get close to being hungry for something not immediately available.  Like I would die if I were that out of control (or at least suffer in some horribly painful ways.)  So I stay on the shore and enjoy the good food, thinking I am growing.

God has never been afraid of the deep. (Can you imagine Him saying, "Now, be careful out there!")  In fact God lives out there and invites us to come join him. (He loves fish.)  Yes, that is where the turmoil and struggle is, but it is also the place of hope, fruitfulness, awareness of finiteness and sinfulness, awareness of grace and goodness - awareness of God in a way that deeply satisfies.  It's where our lives change forever.

Can you consider that what God wants for you is more than you are capable of wanting for yourself?  Can you treasure the discontent long enough to let it open you to the Word of Christ in a new way?  Can you trust that God knows what he is doing with you, and that he is good?

"God, I'm afraid my honest answer to all these questions is 'no, not really.'  I think I want to.  There is something in me that wants to leave everything I own on the shore and go out into the deep and see what is out there - I do get tired of controlling my own life.   And every time I do head out my life gets richer, more meaningful, more freeing, more fruitful, but I still often hold back, clinging to the shoreline.  Please don't stop my unhappiness or discontent with a life that does not satisfy my soul.   Amen."

I work with individuals, couples, and families to identify the ways of life and death in their lives and help uncover the motivation to choose that which leads to life, whether it be through counseling or spiritual direction.  - Sheldon Swartz, MA/LMFT