something immovable

It was the last day of our family reunion on the coast when I realized it.

The beach is one swirl of constant motion. 

In the early morning light, I saw it so clearly. Shells tumbled up and skidded back in harmony with the tide. The sand continually whisked from under my feet. The crashing forward then sucking back of the waves. The wind shifting the clouds and mist of an endless sky. The morning sun hidden then at once bright shining. Even the pelicans, sandpipers, and seagulls were in perpetual motion skimming waves or strutting down the sand. 

'Uh, Beth, it took you seven days to realize 
things move on the beach?...'  

Let me explain myself. 

You see this revelation, although obvious, was the opposite of a memory that had captured my thoughts all week. One of a previous reunion on this stretch of beach. One of my Dad.

My Dad, and a certain stringy-blond, waif of a little girl who would not be content in the shallow water. And I've not forgotten what it felt like to wrap my bony arms around his neck and cling tight to his back as we made our way to where the waves flung their bubbly spume and rolled their mighty rolls in what seemed a magical deep. Nor have I forgotten what I felt as those waves towered high above our heads and, at times, swallowed us whole in their powerful curls. 

I felt bold. 

And fearless. 

Let the waves crash against my tiny frame. let them turban my long-stranded hair about my face and fill my mouth with the taste of salt. I was attached to something immovable. And when my strength gave way, something greater than I anchored me tight: My Dad's thick, strong arm was about my waist. I could face the waves with a sheer joy that rivaled that of the cawing gulls dipping in the sky above me. 

This scene played out many times at our reunion last week. Tiny nieces and nephews all timidity at the ocean's edge. But against the broad shoulders of my brothers, they became reckless bold and laughing as the waves rushed about them. They knew what I had so many years ago. Though their lilting voices and waving hands could not explain it, they were attached to something immovable. And that changed everything.

Life is one swirl of constant motion. 

From every direction it crashes against us all unpredictable and daunting. At times we feel it rip the very ground from underneath us. And the future clear and bright shining all at once turns taciturn. We tumble. We are pulled and pushed.

But we are attached to something immovable. A Rock. A Strong Tower. A Fortress. And though our flesh and heart fails, we find about us an arm strong in salvation that will not let us go. So let this world surge around us, let it tumble and plunge us. We face it bold. Fearless. With a certain abandonment of joy. For nothing can pluck us from our Saviour's grip. He told us so. And we've known it true. 

But it's not just that we're anchored fast to this Rock. Hidden in every wave-curl is a sovereign design. As this life towers then crashes into my thousand-edged points, those jagged corners of me, they transform. They soften, and purify, and tumble us smooth and shining. Making us more reflective of the Christ who holds us tight in His strong arm.

And that's when those around us notice. Scouring this broad earth for a shell-shard of meaning...Look, they say, this one's different. It's all smoothness. All gentleness, kindness, meekness...all joy and confident faith...how can that be on a beach of manic, roaring motion? Then we need only point them to our Saviour.

And what was a faint reflection in us, they see full on for themselves in the face of Christ. Our Rock.

Beth