When people stand on the shoreline looking out into the ocean, what are they looking for?
Are they trying to see to the other side? Are they trying to remember if they've ever seen that shade of blue before, or if the sun is setting, that shade of red. gold or orange?
Are they simply wondering why? Why are we here? Why did this or that happen? What about tomorrow? What about today? What about yesterday, or does yesterday even matter anymore?
Are they looking for something in that nothingness to point them in the right direction, or do they wish they were simply content to be where they are now?
When people stand on the shoreline what are they feeling?
Are they aware of the millions of tiny grains on which they're standing? Are they aware of the rough burn of the heated sand against the tender soles of their feet? Are they feeling just a little insignificant to be a speck on the edge of such a great body of seemingly endless sea? Does the world and all it's craziness become easier to understand with each crash of the waves, or do they just become more perplexed about life?
Or do they feel anything at all?
This summer I hope to go see the ocean again. I haven't been since I was just a little kid. My boys have never seen it and my daughter, only once.
I want to stand there looking out across the waters that God spoke into existence and hear the message He knew I would need then...a message He knew I would seek at that exact moment, even before creation.
When I'm there, though, what will I be looking for?
I remember when Elijah was scared...running for his life, in 1 Kings 19:1-12.
He went into the mountains to hide from his enemies. To hide from himself. To hide from God.
But God knew exactly where to find him.
When He spoke to Elijah, He didn't condemn him. He didn't ridicule him. He didn't punish him in any way.
After God asked Elijsh what he was doing, He listened to his excuses...we all have plenty of those, don't we? Then He told him to go out and stand on the mountain.
I'm sure Elijah had some kind of awesome view from that mountain. Especially a mountain on which he had just met God.
I wonder, when he went out of the cave he was hiding in to the edge of the moutain, looking down on all that his God had made, if he even realized that God already knew why he was there. He didn't really have to ask. He already knew that he was running scared...that he just wanted a place to lay low for a while. A place to rest. A place to think...or maybe a place to not have to think at all. A safe place.
I remember a friend of mine...a former pastor, used to say he'd be safer in a war zone in the will of God than in his hometown out of the will of God.
There's a lot of wisdom in that statement.
God was reminding Elijah that He had a plan for him. A plan that could not fail. A plan that had already been worked out. A plan that was above any other plan that any man, or woman, in Elijah's case, could ever come up with.
A great wind passed by Elijah on that mountain, but the Lord was not in it.
An earthquake hit. Again, the Lord was not in it.
A raging fire came, but alas, tht Lord was not there.
Then a still, small voice.
I think sometimes God, in His all-knowing awesomeness, allows us to attempt to figure things out ourselves to the point when we realize we can't.
We look for signs in everything we do...
In everything that people say...
In things that happen around us.
But then, when we're exhausted and depleted of whatever motivation we started with, He speaks...in a still, small voice.
If we're not careful, the ocean waves will drown out that voice.
So maybe this summer I will go to the ocean. Maybe I'll stand on the shore for this first time since I was a little kid and ask my own children to describe what they are seeing and thinking and feeling,
But right now I just need to cut through all the noise and listen for that little voice.
Are they trying to see to the other side? Are they trying to remember if they've ever seen that shade of blue before, or if the sun is setting, that shade of red. gold or orange?
Are they simply wondering why? Why are we here? Why did this or that happen? What about tomorrow? What about today? What about yesterday, or does yesterday even matter anymore?
Are they looking for something in that nothingness to point them in the right direction, or do they wish they were simply content to be where they are now?
When people stand on the shoreline what are they feeling?
Are they aware of the millions of tiny grains on which they're standing? Are they aware of the rough burn of the heated sand against the tender soles of their feet? Are they feeling just a little insignificant to be a speck on the edge of such a great body of seemingly endless sea? Does the world and all it's craziness become easier to understand with each crash of the waves, or do they just become more perplexed about life?
Or do they feel anything at all?
This summer I hope to go see the ocean again. I haven't been since I was just a little kid. My boys have never seen it and my daughter, only once.
I want to stand there looking out across the waters that God spoke into existence and hear the message He knew I would need then...a message He knew I would seek at that exact moment, even before creation.
When I'm there, though, what will I be looking for?
I remember when Elijah was scared...running for his life, in 1 Kings 19:1-12.
He went into the mountains to hide from his enemies. To hide from himself. To hide from God.
But God knew exactly where to find him.
When He spoke to Elijah, He didn't condemn him. He didn't ridicule him. He didn't punish him in any way.
After God asked Elijsh what he was doing, He listened to his excuses...we all have plenty of those, don't we? Then He told him to go out and stand on the mountain.
I'm sure Elijah had some kind of awesome view from that mountain. Especially a mountain on which he had just met God.
I wonder, when he went out of the cave he was hiding in to the edge of the moutain, looking down on all that his God had made, if he even realized that God already knew why he was there. He didn't really have to ask. He already knew that he was running scared...that he just wanted a place to lay low for a while. A place to rest. A place to think...or maybe a place to not have to think at all. A safe place.
I remember a friend of mine...a former pastor, used to say he'd be safer in a war zone in the will of God than in his hometown out of the will of God.
There's a lot of wisdom in that statement.
God was reminding Elijah that He had a plan for him. A plan that could not fail. A plan that had already been worked out. A plan that was above any other plan that any man, or woman, in Elijah's case, could ever come up with.
A great wind passed by Elijah on that mountain, but the Lord was not in it.
An earthquake hit. Again, the Lord was not in it.
A raging fire came, but alas, tht Lord was not there.
Then a still, small voice.
I think sometimes God, in His all-knowing awesomeness, allows us to attempt to figure things out ourselves to the point when we realize we can't.
We look for signs in everything we do...
In everything that people say...
In things that happen around us.
But then, when we're exhausted and depleted of whatever motivation we started with, He speaks...in a still, small voice.
If we're not careful, the ocean waves will drown out that voice.
So maybe this summer I will go to the ocean. Maybe I'll stand on the shore for this first time since I was a little kid and ask my own children to describe what they are seeing and thinking and feeling,
But right now I just need to cut through all the noise and listen for that little voice.