Drowning
Do you ever feel like God wants to tell you something? Like he’s putting a megaphone to your ear so you can actually hear what he’s been trying to tell you all along? Well this past week has been surround sound for me. Everything – my devotions, my bible readings, conversations, youth events, emails from friends – has been focused on evaluating how deep my love for God actually is, and sharing this with others…
As I read of a friend’s dramatic spiritual change, I couldn’t help but look at my own life and wonder where my passion had gone. I know I love and serve God…but it definitely isn’t in the “newlywed” phase anymore. It has been becoming more routine, and I wonder, why have I lost the excitement that once was there. Has God changed? And I know it is me…
So this past week has been spent searching His Word – reminding myself of the God I love and serve and why nothing else in this life really matters.
As I was rummaging thru old stuff - as I am apt to do from time to time - I found a story written a couple years back. I hope you are challenged...
drowning
It was a gift of a summer day. The sun dangled from its perch in the sky, listening attentively to the laughter of her patrons below as the scavenging cry of the gull pierced the air in an endless search for their next morsel of forgotten treasure. The shoreline held within her hands the abundance of tourists and vacationers, while the water rolled faithfully, wave after wave, kissing the feet of the children that innocently befriended her.
Weaving a path of footprints around the sandcastles and clusters of family and friends he walked. He had often traveled this stretch, having been raised along these shores. Each day threaded through new faces and scenery – but these he deferred to the fiber of the familiar. He took no notice of the crowds – they came and they went – repetitious in arrival and forgotten in departure. He was certain they would have their fun and move on and that they were more than comfortable in the mutual silence.
He didn’t come to the beach to engage in conversation - the most exchanged was perhaps a curious glance or a polite nod of acknowledgement. No, this was his time to find peace. It was the fragmented moment where he could ignore the buzz of life and find solitude in his thoughts and inner conversations. Soon the crowds would be gone, and he would be promised the sands to himself. It was a matter of time…and he was in the business of waiting.
He walked out on the empty pier, the noise of the crowd distancing its detail into a communal mumble. He cast a weary glance out to the vast ocean, his heart pounding at the unfathomable greatness of it all. This was the part of the day he lived for: to be filled with the wonder of such simple beauty that whispered of mystery and complexity below the surface glance.
He leaned on the railing, a mere spectator of the busyness of the crowds from the safety of his observatory. Tiny hands carving out castles, obliging volunteers buried deep beneath shovel-fulls of sand, mothering eyes frantically scanning for a familiar face, shrieks of laughter immersing from splashed victims. It was quite amusing really – a circus of events and people unaware of their audience.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a young boy set adrift on his tube. It bobbed in the waves, much to the amusement of its passenger. “Someone should really be watching that kid.” The man thought knowingly to himself, looking towards the beach for a mother or father that would surely have noticed by now the absence of their young Tom Sawyer…but none could be found.
“I guess some folks just can’t read the signs.” He muttered beneath his breath, keeping his eye on the lad. He had grown up with the awareness of danger that lurked within these waters. A seemingly peaceful surface held below it’s rolling waves a deadly undercurrent. Although countless had been warned of the undertow, few actually believed in its severity.
Silently he watched from the pier as the boy tottered on the waves, unaware of any danger in his drift from shore. As the man pondered how he might best send a warning to the lad, an unsuspecting wave curled over the tube, spilling its contents into the water.
A terrified yelp escaped from the boy’s lips, the reality of his situation branded into his eyes. His pleas for help reached the man’s ears – could no one else see or hear the boy’s distress? Surely there must be someone else more qualified to help. He knew he was in no shape to brave the waters, in fact, doing so would probably do more harm than good! “Looks like that boy could use some help.” He commented to a youth passing by. “I don’t see anything mister.” the stranger shrugged the hand off his shoulder, shaking his head as he walked away.
By now the flailing arms were growing weak. Could nobody see? Did nobody else care? The man grabbed a hold of the life preserver that hung on the pier. He had seen it used before to rescue others who had been caught up in these waters. With trembling hands he prepared to toss it out to the panicking lad when a thought crossed his mind…the boy seemed so far away. What if he missed? Or didn’t throw it far enough? What if the lad didn’t see it or ignored it all together? What if the people standing around him laughed at his meager attempts.
He looked at the face of the boy gasping at the surface, hands waving frantically for someone’s attention. A tiny voice within him told him to just throw the preserver, and yet it remained in his hand. He couldn’t! It was too late…it wasn’t his responsibility…he wasn’t prepared for this…
He watched as the boy slowly surrendered to the waves, first his battle worn face and finally his fingers slipped out of sight into a bottomless existence. Once again calm was restored to the surface.
The man hung the preserver back on its post, his ears still ringing with the whispers for help. “A tragedy really.” He thought to himself, heading back down the pier. Maybe next time he’d be ready. He pushed these thoughts from his mind as he looked back and saw the sky promising a brilliant display of colour, and the beach was clearing.
It seems ridiculous to think of such a casual attitude towards life...yet how many of us are the man – standing on the piers of this world, watching souls slip below the surface while we spectate from our comfortable Christian environments with the means of salvation within our grasp?
What will it take for us to wake up and open our eyes? The world is spiritually drowning every day in their lack of understanding. Where is our love and concern for them? Who’s face do you see slipping below the surface? How long has it been since you were the one in the water? I leave you with this challenge and encouragement…together we can make a difference for the kingdom of God, but we have to let go of ourselves to do it.
As I read of a friend’s dramatic spiritual change, I couldn’t help but look at my own life and wonder where my passion had gone. I know I love and serve God…but it definitely isn’t in the “newlywed” phase anymore. It has been becoming more routine, and I wonder, why have I lost the excitement that once was there. Has God changed? And I know it is me…
So this past week has been spent searching His Word – reminding myself of the God I love and serve and why nothing else in this life really matters.
As I was rummaging thru old stuff - as I am apt to do from time to time - I found a story written a couple years back. I hope you are challenged...
drowning
It was a gift of a summer day. The sun dangled from its perch in the sky, listening attentively to the laughter of her patrons below as the scavenging cry of the gull pierced the air in an endless search for their next morsel of forgotten treasure. The shoreline held within her hands the abundance of tourists and vacationers, while the water rolled faithfully, wave after wave, kissing the feet of the children that innocently befriended her.
Weaving a path of footprints around the sandcastles and clusters of family and friends he walked. He had often traveled this stretch, having been raised along these shores. Each day threaded through new faces and scenery – but these he deferred to the fiber of the familiar. He took no notice of the crowds – they came and they went – repetitious in arrival and forgotten in departure. He was certain they would have their fun and move on and that they were more than comfortable in the mutual silence.
He didn’t come to the beach to engage in conversation - the most exchanged was perhaps a curious glance or a polite nod of acknowledgement. No, this was his time to find peace. It was the fragmented moment where he could ignore the buzz of life and find solitude in his thoughts and inner conversations. Soon the crowds would be gone, and he would be promised the sands to himself. It was a matter of time…and he was in the business of waiting.
He walked out on the empty pier, the noise of the crowd distancing its detail into a communal mumble. He cast a weary glance out to the vast ocean, his heart pounding at the unfathomable greatness of it all. This was the part of the day he lived for: to be filled with the wonder of such simple beauty that whispered of mystery and complexity below the surface glance.
He leaned on the railing, a mere spectator of the busyness of the crowds from the safety of his observatory. Tiny hands carving out castles, obliging volunteers buried deep beneath shovel-fulls of sand, mothering eyes frantically scanning for a familiar face, shrieks of laughter immersing from splashed victims. It was quite amusing really – a circus of events and people unaware of their audience.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a young boy set adrift on his tube. It bobbed in the waves, much to the amusement of its passenger. “Someone should really be watching that kid.” The man thought knowingly to himself, looking towards the beach for a mother or father that would surely have noticed by now the absence of their young Tom Sawyer…but none could be found.
“I guess some folks just can’t read the signs.” He muttered beneath his breath, keeping his eye on the lad. He had grown up with the awareness of danger that lurked within these waters. A seemingly peaceful surface held below it’s rolling waves a deadly undercurrent. Although countless had been warned of the undertow, few actually believed in its severity.
Silently he watched from the pier as the boy tottered on the waves, unaware of any danger in his drift from shore. As the man pondered how he might best send a warning to the lad, an unsuspecting wave curled over the tube, spilling its contents into the water.
A terrified yelp escaped from the boy’s lips, the reality of his situation branded into his eyes. His pleas for help reached the man’s ears – could no one else see or hear the boy’s distress? Surely there must be someone else more qualified to help. He knew he was in no shape to brave the waters, in fact, doing so would probably do more harm than good! “Looks like that boy could use some help.” He commented to a youth passing by. “I don’t see anything mister.” the stranger shrugged the hand off his shoulder, shaking his head as he walked away.
By now the flailing arms were growing weak. Could nobody see? Did nobody else care? The man grabbed a hold of the life preserver that hung on the pier. He had seen it used before to rescue others who had been caught up in these waters. With trembling hands he prepared to toss it out to the panicking lad when a thought crossed his mind…the boy seemed so far away. What if he missed? Or didn’t throw it far enough? What if the lad didn’t see it or ignored it all together? What if the people standing around him laughed at his meager attempts.
He looked at the face of the boy gasping at the surface, hands waving frantically for someone’s attention. A tiny voice within him told him to just throw the preserver, and yet it remained in his hand. He couldn’t! It was too late…it wasn’t his responsibility…he wasn’t prepared for this…
He watched as the boy slowly surrendered to the waves, first his battle worn face and finally his fingers slipped out of sight into a bottomless existence. Once again calm was restored to the surface.
The man hung the preserver back on its post, his ears still ringing with the whispers for help. “A tragedy really.” He thought to himself, heading back down the pier. Maybe next time he’d be ready. He pushed these thoughts from his mind as he looked back and saw the sky promising a brilliant display of colour, and the beach was clearing.
It seems ridiculous to think of such a casual attitude towards life...yet how many of us are the man – standing on the piers of this world, watching souls slip below the surface while we spectate from our comfortable Christian environments with the means of salvation within our grasp?
What will it take for us to wake up and open our eyes? The world is spiritually drowning every day in their lack of understanding. Where is our love and concern for them? Who’s face do you see slipping below the surface? How long has it been since you were the one in the water? I leave you with this challenge and encouragement…together we can make a difference for the kingdom of God, but we have to let go of ourselves to do it.
posted by The Bean Bag Chair at 1:19 PM
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