Deep Calls to Deep: Leaving the Shallows to Know God More

Do you ever feel as if you’re walking in the shallows and yet you long to dive into deeper waters? You see people out there, in the deep, while you’re on the shore with the water just touching your ankles. Maybe you’ve been in the deep before. You know what it was like. But circumstances swept you into the shallows, and now you’ve been there for so long you don’t know how to navigate your way back. Besides, the shallows are easier. Less scary. More predictable. But what’s the cost of staying there?

Yet as you gaze out over the waters, that’s where your soul longs to be. So even though the journey will be hard, you brace yourself, take a deep breath, and dive in.

Leaving the Shallows

What’s true in the water is often true in our relationship with God. We could stay in the shallows with occasional Bible reading. We could pray only in crisis and focus on what God does for us rather than who He is. But remaining in the shallows can result in a faith that knows who God is and yet rarely encounters Him.

When you look at the lives of believers who have a deep relationship with Christ, there’s a richness, a peace, a joy that has come as a result of their choice to venture out into the deep—a faith that radiates Christ to everyone around them. That’s the kind of faith I want too.

Lately, I’ve been considering how going deeper with God relates to deeper thinking. For a while, I’ve noticed how difficult thinking deeply has become. And it’s not hard to find the culprit in our modern world—screens. Our constant scrolling trains us to skim—mentally and spiritually. And if our minds are conditioned to merely stay on the surface, how does that affect our prayers, our worship, and our time in God’s Word?

As many people do, I set some goals at the beginning of the year, one of which is to go deeper—deeper in my study of the Word, deeper in my thinking, deeper in my writing, deeper in my conversations with others.

But here it is February, and while I’ve waded out a bit further, I haven’t exactly dived in headfirst. What’s holding me back? I could blame it on busyness. But if I get down to the heart of the matter, oftentimes it can be attributed more to resistance. Going deeper is hard work, and our hearts naturally drift toward what is easiest.

Then there are seasons not shaped by resistance but rather grief and trauma, where the goal is simply to make it through the day. Sometimes going deeper looks like striving—but other times it looks more like clinging to the One who gives us help and hope.

A Longing for God

At the core of both striving and clinging is longing—a deep, aching desire for God Himself. The psalmist paints a vivid picture for us in Psalm 42: “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your billows have swept over me” (v. 7). This psalm reveals several truths about what it means to go deeper with God.

• Going deeper starts with a longing for Him. The psalmist begins by comparing his longing for God to a panting deer (v. 1). He is desperate, with a severe need to have his thirst quenched.

• Going deeper recognizes that only God can fill us. Only He can replenish us in our emptiness and refresh us when we’re tired and weary. We must recognize what doesn’t satisfy us and turn to the only One who can.

• Going deeper requires us to be honest. The psalmist poured out his heart before God, with such an intense grief that he lost his appetite (v. 3). Our trials may be similar, where we feel as if we’ve gone over the edge of a thunderous waterfall, plunging into the swirling depths. Or maybe our struggles are on a much smaller scale. Whatever we’re facing, being honest with God will ultimately draw us closer to Him.

• As we go deeper, we’ll be reminded of the truth of God’s character. Even in his turmoil and pain, the psalmist was confident that God was faithful, that He loved him—and that He had not forgotten him (v. 8). God was his rock, his stability in the uncertainty of the waves (v. 9). That’s where our hope lies too. And the more we choose to trust and praise Him, the more our faith will grow.

Deep calls to deep—and our response can be to either retreat to the shallows or to follow where God is calling. When we deliberately take steps to go deeper with God, whether in trials or in the mundaneness of daily life, He calls us to go deeper still—to better comprehend the depths of our heavenly Father and to want Him more.

As one old-time pastor said, “Whatever depths there are in God, they appeal to corresponding depths in us. And whatever be the depths of our sorrow, desire, or necessity, there are correspondences in God from which full supplies may be obtained. Thou hast the pitcher of faith, and the well is deep.”¹

Taking the Next Step

Longing for depth is one thing—but living it out is another. Here are some ways we can intentionally nurture deeper thinking, richer prayer, and a closer relationship with God.

• Limit the role of screens throughout your day. Don’t get caught in the endless cycle of scrolling. If you do choose to be on a screen, then set a timer (preferably with an obnoxious sound!) so you have something that resets your brain and communicates that you need to stop.

• Better yet, stay off social media altogether. Tomorrow is the beginning of the Lenten season, the forty-day period leading up to Easter. This year, I’m choosing to give up social media as I’ve realized how easy it is to let it consume too much of my day.

• Meditate on God’s Word more deliberately. If you’re reading through the Bible with us this year, consider ways that you could choose one verse from your reading to think about and meditate on throughout the day.

• Choose deeper books. Reading is one of my favorite activities, but often I choose “easy reads” that have more entertainment or escape value. I want to fortify my reading with books that make me think. Whether those are Christian classics, biographies, or even books on current issues, I want my brain to be stretched.

• Engage in conversations that go beyond the surface. It’s easy to let our interactions with others stay superficial. But who could you choose to go deeper with this week? You could discuss your takeaways from this week’s sermon, what you’re studying in the Bible, your recent challenges, or how you’re grappling with hard cultural issues. Inviting another person into your thoughts and struggles (and truly listening to their perspective) will cause you to grow and likely deepen that relationship at the same time.

• Embrace the quiet. Throughout my day, I often fill mundane moments with noise. What if instead of turning on a show while I fold clothes, I choose to work in silence, thinking and praying? What if rather than listening to the radio or an audio book while I drive, I think about my morning’s Bible reading? Or what if I just sat in complete silence, letting God fill my mind with whatever He wants to? Silence creates space for God to speak.

I’m sure there are many other ways to encourage deeper thinking—and you may discover some that work especially well for you. The key is to take small, intentional steps that move your heart toward God. As we choose to go deeper, we start to glimpse the richness and wonder that await us in His presence. And the more we experience of God, the more we want.

Further In

In the final book of the Narnia series, as Aslan led many of the characters into a new world, they discovered a place that was “a deeper country: every rock and flower and blade of grass looked as if it meant more.” And as they ventured further in, their desire for more only deepened:

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. . . . Come further up, come further in!”²

Friend, as we walk the path of knowing our Savior on a deeper level, may every discovery leave our hearts and minds wanting even more. Let’s choose to go further up and further in.

¹ F. B. Meyer, Our Daily Homily Volume III: Psalms–Canticles (Fleming H. Revell, 1898), 42.

² C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, (Harper Collins, 1984), 196.