I once read a story in which limpets featured as an example. These tenacious sea creatures are extremely difficult to pry off of rocks because they latch onto them with such force.
Late last night, or early this morning, it occurred to me that I would very much like to be like a limpet.
Life has thrown us a few curveballs lately, and we have found our faith tested in new and challenging ways. It is scary to see how quickly doubt starts creeping in, how easy it becomes to excuse continual worry, how hard it is to trust, when important things in life become more clearly out of our control. (Not that most things are ever really in our control to begin with, but it makes us feel better to think they are.)
I love to picture myself as the hero of my story. I often do it without even thinking. That’s when a wave comes sweeping in and I am faced with the reality that I am not actually the hero. At best, I’m the little limpet clinging to the rock. At best, I can tenaciously fix myself to the One who stays, regardless of how big the wave. Even though I might be very convinced that I’m drowning in the waves, the rock won’t move and the waves will.
Being the limpet means not being the hero. It’s not extremely heroic to cling tightly to something. It’s freeing though, not to be the hero. It’s freeing to know that I am more likely the small, unassuming creature whose only real strength has to be its ability to hold on tightly to the rock.
I am not the one who has to have it all figured out, I just have to grasp tightly to the One who does. And even in that, even in that, I am shown overwhelming amounts of grace, because even when I falter, my Rock will never lose me in the wave.