Out Here Hope Remains

There is hope for the helpless ... Cry Out To Jesus. -- Third Day

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Seeking God in the Sea

Today I drove down to the beach and walked around for a while. I sought the Lord's will for my life. I watched the waves come and go. I could see that the waves were unalike. Some surged a little further up on shore, some broke just before the previous watermark. Some seemed to not be waves at all, just a current coming to an end. After a larger wave I saw the pattern of the water dragging sand with it down back into the salty sea. I knew that there was much change in the landscape of the edge of the ocean, and yet it remained mostly the same. I thought that maybe my life could make a difference in some small way, but in the large scale of things, no. I looked into the sky and saw a cloud formation that reminded me of a donut. (Hey, my mind is never far from a donut!) Through the hole I could see the bright blue sky. I said, 'Yes, Lord, that is what I want ... in my clouded thinking I want to see the clearness of your will.' But the clouds drifted and offered nothing more than the figures my imagination could make of them. There was a wind surfer skirting the surface of the tides. The power of the wind in his sail drove him back and forth. Sometimes on the wings of a strong breeze he was able to turn a flip. He had real style and I was a bit envious as I stood on the shore in my dress pants and rolled up sleeves. (I hadn't planned on stopping at the beach.) Ah ... the Lord is carrying me on the winds of His will, I thought. And it is my duty to follow the leading. But the boy just went back and forth and never really did much more than have a good time. There was no journey. A pelican was diving swiftly into the water, no less the predator than an eagle swooping down to snare his prey. Down into the water it went, completely submerged, arriving back to the surface with his prize. He didn't seem to care about the waves, the clouds, or the wind surfer. Survival was at stake. Yes, Lord, survival. Perhaps that's your message for me. Do what needs to be done, not necessarily what I want to do. See to the details, avoid being sidetracked. Walking back to my truck, I saw my footprints in the sand. One set going toward the water, one set coming back. No clue is given here either. When all was said and done, nothing was changed. Nothing was clearer. My observations nothing more than existential ponderings, as temporary as the the sandy tracks that would soon be eliminated by the brisk winds. Seeking God in the sea was folly. But the prayers I spoke, the concerns I shared, and the requests I made could very well shake the foundations of the earth. For my Father listens that intently.