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We recently took a trip to Mexico and stayed by the Sea of Cortez. And on our last full day, we took a boat out to snorkel by the islands of Loreto. 

 

Unbeknownst to me, my sister-in-law had been praying we would see dolphins or whales. And sure enough, halfway to the island, our sun-weathered guide shouted something and pointed. A pod of dolphins had appeared, eager to swim in our boat’s wake. It was my first time seeing dolphins in the wild, and they were inches from us, playing with us like rowdy school children for twenty minutes. The word magical barely begins to describe it. 

 

The wonderful and terrifying thing about snorkeling is that it's a lesson in object permanence. As children develop, they learn about object permanence--things exist, even when you can't see them. Mom is there whether you can see her or not (which is a real buzzkill for peekaboo). Dolphins are there, even if they don't swim up to you.  

 

And submerging myself in that water was like learning object permanence all over again. Our guide had mentioned an island nearby that was surrounded by sharks, but thankfully that’s not the kind of island they drop the tourists at. So as I slipped on my flippers, I prayed I wouldn't see any sharks. But I knew even if I couldn't see them, they were out there, swimming and pooping and feeding…just like my dolphin friends. 

Whether or not you subscribe to a particular religion, life requires you to be to be a person faith. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.” 

 

After all, we didn't pray dolphins into existence. We weren’t magically summoning pufferfish and eels. They had always called the ocean home. They were always there--we were just seeing what we usually couldn't.

 

And life is an ocean of things unseen. We must swim through it, only seeing the present through a pair of fogged up goggles. And while some water is clearer than others, there are always there are things that we cannot see. 

 

Things you can’t always see: friends who are miles away, the impact of the life you’ve lived, what someone has lost, what life will be a year from now, someone's unique gift, the love people have for you, and the presence of God.

 

There will always be something you cannot see. Fear is remembering that there are sharks. Faith is remembering there’s also dolphins. 

 

Both can exist, and both do.

 

You are living by faith, even right now. Even when you feel like that faith is as small as a mustard seed. Even when what you do see frightens or worries you. 

 

You are swimming in the great blue ocean of possibility. There is cause to despair, but there is also cause to hope. 

 

May you remember that what you see is not all that is. May you have confidence that there are things working and coming and changing in ways that you could never have imagined. 

 

May you have the courage to spend more time praying to see dolphins.