LIFE'S A BEACH

We try to make sure we get out of the chaotic city for a few days every six to eight weeks. Since it had been two months, and J and I were pretty drained from our first weeks of adjusting to the slum, we spent two full days down at the coast, five hours by rickety bus. It was much needed and very refreshing, even though it was certainly no Cancun or Boracay. I asked God to give me rest and to show himself to me in new ways. This reflection is one major way I experienced God at the beach, and I hope it can encourage you as well…

The beach was long and went on farther than I knew. Depending on the tide it could be an enormously wide beach or a sliver-thin strip of sand. In front of me was the ocean and, like every beach I’d been to, the water seemed as if it went on forever over the horizon. Behind me were pine trees that bore the weathering of the ocean wind on behalf of the quiet forest behind it.

Standing in front of the trees, the sun beat down on me until sweat dripped from me onto the flour-like sand, creating dark dots around me. The sand was beautiful but hot, and forced me to seek a place where my feet wouldn’t burn with discomfort.

As I began to explore my surroundings for refuge, I began to realize that this sandy beach was like our tangible life. It’s a beautiful life, but the sun that gives us light to observe this beautiful reality each day, also beats us down regularly. It forces us to find a place of refuge, comfort and rest.

Even a good thing that God has given us, like sunlight that helps us see, warms us and makes things grow – even this can wear us down. Almost as if to provide for us, but to push us toward, or pull us toward, a place of deeper life and a place of rest in him.

Looking for a refuge from the desert-like beach, I started down toward the water. Even before I reached the crashing waves, my feet were soothed by the smooth, hard sand that had just recently been doused by the high tide. Then some parts of the sand rippled into small intricate rivers under my toes.

I was discovering that the water of the ocean was like God. Though I was not yet in the ocean, I experienced the soothing remnants of the water that had saturated the sand which was enough to sustain and comfort my bare feet. But I had only gotten my feet a bit wet, not my entire body. I wanted more than moisture; more than evidence that the ocean was present in a less than full form. So I proceeded to the lapping waves, where, not only was it actual water, but it kept splashing into me as I faced it. I could feel the water as more than just moisture and could see it’s diverse way of existing. And I also could hear the waves beneath and around me. But there was more ahead.

So I took steps into the dark and waving water. Now my entire body was submerged, though it was still shallow enough for me to touch the bottom and maintain control over what happened to me. And yet, the power of the ocean, over time, nudged me gradually in a certain direction despite the fact that I thought I was in control. I glanced back at the beach and realized I saw it from a slightly new angle.

Then I turned again to face the ocean, looking further out over the massive sea. Spanning east and west with my eyes, it made the slightest curve. It seemed to go on forever. But of course, I could only see until the horizon, and even that part was just a distant blue tint that I couldn’t see clearly. Despite my ocean experience, I had only tasted the expanse of the ocean. I floated in the water that held me and I felt at peace even though the sun was still just as hot.

After being refreshed in the ocean, I walked back onto the beach with cool water dripping from me instead of warm salty sweat. The breeze gave me a shiver despite the sun that had previously sucked life from me. But soon I was dry and hot again. So I retreated into the forest behind the beach.

I could hardly believe how cool the forest was compared to the beach. It was a different world! Strange small clusters of cacti sprung out of the sand dunes at the forest’s mouth. The pine branches above me swayed and rustled in the breeze, making the sunlight dance like rivers flowing through the shade of the forest floor. The further back I looked, the more green life and shade I saw. It was lush, fertile and an ideal place for the trees to grow and for me to take refuge from the hot open beach.

Standing up on a sand dune in the forest overlooking the beach and ocean, it seemed that I had experienced a new and bigger perspective. A perspective that is hard to see when we remain on the sand or even if we dabble in the waves. Or when we praise the beauty and glory of the forest and ocean all around us from our spot on the sand. It’s hard for us to see things clearly when we’re so focused on building our sand castle empires, or when we’re face down, imagining a perfect tan that hopefully will attract more compliments than skin cancer.

I can’t come close to understanding or experiencing God in his fullness and depth. If I did, I’d probably get lost in the forest or drown in the ocean. But I certainly want to accept the invitation of the beckoning waves and the forest full of life. They are all around and waiting.

I live on a thin beach that feels like all that exists when my head is down and I'm concentrating on my self and my 'important' activities. God’s ocean of depth and refreshment and his forest of rest and life hover all around me, just steps away, waiting for me to enter into his healing and sustaining presence - waiting fore more than mere glances of admiration from afar.