the world in which we woke.
A week ago I canoed across an inlet in the Atlantic Ocean to an uninhabited island to camp for an evening. Not nearly as pleasant as it sounds: my buddy and I spent the night in wet sleeping bags fighting off hypothermia. But about 10:30 I felt prompted to just walk along the beach. I scoped the area out by boat a few weeks before and told a friend: “This is where men come to wrestle with angels”. The beaches were flat to the ocean with high dunes topped with grass and weeds. The light pollution of the city faded since the beach did not connect to the mainland. I walked along the shore, dodging little crabs dodging me, and listened to the waves crash in time with my thoughts, my fears, my heart.
There is danger in personifying God. Often described as walking with us, we cannot run from Him almost as though He can run faster: beside me with red sash and white gown. I stopped after I finished singing He is Lord. I listened to the waves. Drawn to the sea, I stood in silence. The clouds rose over the endless waters, the ocean, but something greater. I didn’t feel a God who held my heart. I didn’t feel a King who dried my tears. Instead I saw a glimpse of the Lord who covers the Earth with His wings, like talked about in 2 Samuel 22. I think I understood what David meant when he wrote: “If I go up to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, I find You there” (Psalm 139:8). It’s not that He is faster than I, or chases me, but the glory of His goodness fills the Earth. In power He stands over the world. I felt this. I saw this. I moved, afraid, but trusting.
I stepped in the waters and they began to glow. No, perhaps sparkle is the better word. The more I moved my feet the more I caught little glints of blue, like fireflies back home, all throughout the shallows around me. Soon, the water around me was glowing, a contrast to the darkness of the sea. Brought me to this moment, this place, I think I can relate that “I have heard of You with my ears, but now I see You with me eyes” or the call to taste and see His goodness. What has been taken and what is gone was only to bring me through the trials of deeper fellowship and understanding, to stand and say that I would have despaired if I had not believed Him. To awake, to be alive. I don’t know where this road leads, or where it’s going, but I know Him and I’ll rest in this.
Still the waves crash, especially tonight.