19 August 2009

On the Journey

                            A spiritual lesson learned from the sea . . .

     I love the ocean! All my life, I have been fortunate to make regular pilgrimages to the seashore. When I was in grade school, my family spent vacations camping at Myrtle Beach in South Carolina. My father loved the sea and nurtured my love for all things associated with the beach. He would awaken me early in the morning, before first light, so we could be on the beach when the sun broke over the horizon. Together we would walk for miles in the surf with waves lapping over our bare feet. We would pick up shells, talk to fishermen, and scan the sea hoping to sight dolphins playing in the waters. My father loved to play and swim in the ocean, and so do I.

     When I’m on vacation at the beach, I love to sit and read with the sound of the ocean providing the back ground and the wind blowing my pages. When my eyes grow heavy, I take a short nap. I can continue this for a long time, but, at some point, I have to get into the water. I dive into breakers, float along on my back, and feel along the bottom with my toes searching for sand dollars. Now, an aging man of fifty-five, I love to stand up to my chest in the waves and look out across the sea.

As I have described, the sea and the beach restore my soul and offer me a gift of peace. Everything about the beach conjures up an inspiring memory that makes me feel good inside. Well, that was the case, until this year, and suddenly the sea has become a different sort of place.

     One day I threw my book aside, peeled off my shirt, and ran into the surf. My brother, Russell, and Chip were out in water about chest deep searching for sand dollars. I made my way through the waves until I joined them, and then, I began to search the bottom for treasure. I drug my toes through the sand until I felt my prize. I resisted the rolling waves until I trapped the sand dollar between my feet. As I pulled it from the bottom held securely between my feet, I plunged my head beneath the waters and snatched my prize in my hand. Wiping the water from my face and eyes, I looked in my hand to see the largest sand dollar I have ever stolen from the sea. I immediately began to celebrate my accomplishment making sure Russell and Chip appreciated the significance of what I held in my hand.

     With a new zeal, I continued my search for more sand dollars. In a few minutes, I felt another on the bottom and sought to secure it with my feet. Before I could retrieve my prize, I felt something wrap itself around my feet and ankles. Next, my feet felt like they were on fire. I couldn’t lift them up out of the water to see what was on them. I yelled and screamed. The pain became more intense, and Chip came over to help me to the beach. A jellyfish or some other sea creature had feasted on me. I had never experienced such pain.

     It goes without saying that a demon-possessed jellyfish became a dark shadow haunting my wonderful and tranquil thoughts of the sea. The next day I debated with myself about going back into the water. Yet, as the day wore on, I remembered that I played in the water for half a century and nothing like this had happened before. I could not let one jellyfish, or whatever kind of sea monster attacked me, rob me of my enjoyment of the waters. For the next three days, I entered the waters, searched for sand dollars, and escaped the monsters of the deep.

     My experience with the jellyfish has offered me insight into the mystery of life. Many of us have been hurt in places we thought were safe. Places where we lived joyfully, hopefully, and without fear. This place may have been a friendship, a marriage, a home, or a church. In this place or relationship, we were hurt, wounded, betrayed, or rejected. Because memories are never completely erased, we have refused to ever allow ourselves to be wounded like that again. We have constructed elaborate defenses, and we keep a watchful distrustful eye on situations and people.

     At what cost, do we retreat from life? Despite the hurt, the wound, the betrayal, and rejection, is there not some tenderness, some hope, some love, some joy, or some peace for which our souls hunger? Yet, we refuse to walk back into the water. We allow one moment, one hurt, or one wound to become a life defining and altering event that leads us into the wilderness.

     Despite all that I have experienced of the dark and demonic aspects of life, I continue to remind myself that God created the universe and all that is in it and pronounced it good. Yes, all kinds of monsters lurk in the shadows attempting to destroy this goodness. Yet somehow, by faith, we must learn to live again trusting the goodness of life and refusing to surrender to the horror we have experienced.

     As I ponder my encounter with the jellyfish, I realize it is only by trusting in the goodness of God’s creation and the faithfulness of God’s love that am I able to embrace life with wonder and expectation each morning. Despite the wounds we have experienced, let us bravely plunge back into life living by faith and believing that God continues anew each day His work of redemption and salvation of all creation. Peace.jamie