The Big Blue

My feet buried in warm sand, the ever present sound of crashing waves, the sun beating down through clouds heavy with rain, the smell of salt and fish and brine—yes, I had the wonderful chance to spend a few days at the beach this past week.  Even more beautiful than the setting was the company I shared it with:

Hi mom and dad!!

As I stood there one afternoon staring out at the endless horizon of blue waters, I was struck with just how majestic and weird the ocean is.  Have you ever thought about how big our oceans are?  How, geographically speaking, they have more real estate than land does?  Just last week I dipped my toes and tumbled in the waves of the Pacific Ocean, and so did some Japanese children.  I took a boat ride on the same waves that some dude was surfing on in Hawaii or in Australia.  The immensity of that body of water is just… well, too big.  I can’t wrap my mind around it.

Yes, that's a sea turtle :)

Not only are oceans ginormous, they’re also an alien planet unto themselves.  The many abysses of unknown depths, the unseen but ever growing submerged volcanoes, the new species being discovered every year, the numerous currents and strong tides, the submerged cities and shipwrecks: all are crazy mysterious things that boggle the mind and make you wish you could breathe water like a fish.

Instead, God gave us two land-dependent legs and oxygen-dependent lungs.  It seems we have been cursed to wander the Dirt forever.

In my mind, God is sort of like the ocean.  He is vast, mysterious, of unknown origins and depths.  He is teeming with new life, with adventure, with creativity.  He is powerful, strong, dangerous.  He is peaceful, tranquil, and beautiful.  He has no beginning, and no end.  He moves in us, waves of grace and tides of mercy.  We cannot control God, much like we cannot control the oceans. 

I suppose I also imagine the Kingdom of God like the ocean, where all His children come home to live in his watery Oasis.  Like drops of water, lost in the sea of not only other drops but also in the overarching presence that is His. 

It’s not a perfect analogy, but it does inspire the imagination, doesn’t it?

As you go to the lakes and the oceans, what side of God do you see?  As you ponder the depths of the seas and the life that calls those waters home, what lesson is God sharing with you?  Remember the early poets who compared God’s love with the endless seas, the depths of which could not be known.  Is that not amazing to think about? 

Someday, I will shed these land-legs and trade them in for my Kingdom-ocean ones.  Someday, the oceans will make sense and their secret places will no longer be a mystery to me.  Someday, I’ll join God in his watery depths and swim in his glory.  Someday, I will call those waters Home.

Someday.

Stay tuned!

Cha-Cha-Changes

Courtesy of Carlye Tazelaar

Pensive, I stare off into the distance, not really seeing the vista in front of me.  I think of the future and, quite quickly, get lost in the emotions and dreams I have swirling around in my mind.  Caught in the powerful vortex, I am sucked into the great questions of which I have no answers:  Where will I be?  Who will I be with?  What will I be doing???  I have a fairly concrete plan for the next 3 months (no really, you should see my calendar—there’s no white space left), but have intentionally left blank my year of 2016.  

Why, you might ask? 

For the first time in my life, I don’t have a red carpet laid out in front of me.  There is no doorway open with a bright light shining through, beckoning me to cross that threshold.  There is no guide blazing a trail ahead of me in this jungle, no one to follow in their footsteps.  For the very first time, my future seems quite… well, open.  Blank.  Free.  Which at first terrifies me!  I am the girl with a plan, a well thought-out plan, I might add.  I always have my ducks lined up, the details sorted through, the options well labeled and categorized.  I hardly ever just wander blindly, hoping to bump into the right door to open or the right path to follow (though this sometimes happens if I misplace my glasses, bewildering moments I try to avoid).  So the idea of me intentionally not planning anything is bizarre. 

My only reason seems a bit feeble, but it’s all I’ve got—It comes down to the fact that if I think too much about the future, I’ll forget to live in the present.  As silly as it sounds, planning and dwelling on my future feels like an escape from the challenges and drudgery of my reality right now.  I will invent such a beautiful and perfect future that the world around me right now will become dull, annoying, and burdensome.  I will polarize the two, seeing the grass as very green over there, on the other side.  I will yearn for the future, and begrudge the present. 

And I don’t want that to happen. 

So I am avoiding the temptation of daydreaming too much so that I can find joy here in the present too.  The key is in noticing the small things, the little gift bundles God throws into every day.  When I look up, I can see the clouds in the sky and cherish the rain they bring.  When in the countryside, I can see freshly planted coffee and savor the taste of cacao fruit.   At the markets, I can marvel at the handiwork of Nicaraguan artisans, both past and present, and admire their artwork.  In my rocking chair, I can sip my coffee in the mornings and enjoy the company of my little hummingbird that visits me.  Every day, I can laugh and smile and just be with the people I’ve come to call good friends.  These are the good times. 

Even though my future seems dauntingly blank and looms over me from time to time, I find that it also motivates me to fully engage in the here and now and see how blessed I am.  The future will come, and I will be ready for it when it comes. 

But not yet, not yet.