So, what’s the point of stressing over a situation when it appears that a train is barreling down the tracks, heading toward an inevitable collision? We know that eventually, we will hit the wall—the consequences will come—and we’ll feel their impact in some form or another. Yet, deep calls to deep—an invitation from the innermost part of ourselves to the divine depths—imply a kind of absolute control. It suggests that we can, through divine strength, stop the runaway train, overcome every obstacle that lies ahead, and resolve issues in ways we never imagined possible—ways that reward our perseverance and steadfastness. Even when the circumstances involve complex, tangled aspects of good and evil intertwined in the unfolding story, this is not the divine way. Such apparent contradictions—between what we see and what we hope for—are too overwhelming for us to fully live as just a passing experience in the present moment. Meanwhile, we find ourselves squirming—complaining, struggling, wishing, longing—day after day, night after night—hoping that the current pain and difficulty might somehow transform into something good. It’s a universal desire—to live life fully, to extend our days as long as possible, driven by an innate instinct for self-preservation. Alongside this instinct is a longing for justice—an urgent hope to see fairness and righteousness manifesting swiftly in our lives—not justice that harms others but that seeks the best possible outcome for everyone involved. I don’t see a clear distinction between the desire to move things around, to change circumstances, and the feelings of frustration that often accompany such efforts. I’ve hurried through life, eager to seek revenge or to set things right, driven by that same impulse—only now I realize that it’s part of a much larger divine process. Only God truly understands how to orchestrate these events, how to bring about resolution in ways we could never anticipate. And in the end, we would witness the most astonishing things—soft landings even when we ourselves are at fault, moments of grace that seem almost miraculous. Deep calls to deep, yes, but let us consider this: perhaps we may arrive at a point where we dwell within the reality of His future deliverance—where hope and faith allow us to rest in the promise of what is to come. That future is already on its way—moving toward us, slowly but surely. Deep calls to deep—affirming that He is that eternal Good, and more than that, right now. His love soothes and calms us, even in the midst of chaos. Deep calls to deep—like waves and breakers crashing over us—overwhelming us with their power. I am left undone, helpless before His majesty. It’s as if I am plunging into an endless vortex—a swirling, limitless experience—walking through life with a renewed, almost different kind of confidence, knowing that divine purpose sustains and guides us through every twist and turn.