If Grace Is An Ocean

I breathe in the salty ocean air, with the sand between my toes. Walking along the water soothes my soul and puts the thoughts of my mind at rest. Somehow when the waves wash over my ankles cleaning the sand, they take my troubles along with them, carrying them off into the roaring tide for some poor fish to choke on. Gone. Just like that. A wave of clarity washing over my mind.
Planes fly overhead while carefree swimmers dive into the water. I climb onto the rocks and explore for a little while, watching as the crashing waves drench the warm rocks. I don't dedicate too much time to conversation, mostly I just think, letting my mind breathe in some much needed rest. Lost in the beauty of words on a page, feeding my soul with well-crafted sentences as I peel back chapter after chapter. I listen to the guitar being played and for a while I play it myself. There is something about the ocean that makes me want to sing. Small activities pass the time, such as tossing the football back and forth, playing music, reading and writing. Most of the time there is no need for activity. I am content enough to just lay there, as the sun soaks into my skin. Fingering damp sea shells and letting the dry sand run through my fingers...such simple things and yet they fill me with such wonder.
My sister and I walked along the shore taking pictures of seaweed and footprints, talking and laughing, not concerning ourselves with the clock. She snapped these next ones of me...

The thought in-between the shot

"Running into the dark underground
All the subways around create a great sound
To my motion fatigue, farewell, with your ear to a seashell
You can hear the waves in underwater caves
As if you actually were inside a saltwater room"~Owl City

I am undeserving to drink in such wonder. If anything, I should be chained in a darkened cell, my only view being the outlined shapes of metal bars in the darkness. Instead God gives me this? This beautiful world to appreciate? And what is my natural response? It is to complain and gripe about all that I don't have. In my depravity I choose to please myself and chase after things that never satisfy. The pursuit of satisfaction apart from Christ leaves me restless, wandering for the answers that I've already been given. I realize then that I was tuning out the blessings, allowing my mind to dwell on trivial things and every small sensation of pain or discomfort. Subconsciously I ache for all that I want, asking God to give me the things of this world, with the safety of His kingdom. Oh, how ugly it is to think that and maybe I would never say it directly, even to myself, but isn't that what my behavior is saying? Fortunately it doesn't take too long for God to put me back in my place and remind me that I am nothing, but a useless piece of clay. I have no right to speak back to the potter, correcting or questioning Him. Eventually I taste it. It is pure and lovely. Eternal. Satisfying. Just a sip of the things of Christ make all of my earthly pursuits taste like dry sand in my mouth.

After giving up His very life for a lowly wretch like me, He is still patient. After all that He has done for me...all that pain that He suffered on my behalf, paying all of my debts with His life...that is how I respond? Of course that is not always my response, but for it even to come up at all is an utter disgrace. Still in all of my selfishness, He extends His mercies to me. I hear it in the roar of the rushing tide, see it in the seagulls flying overhead, feel it in the salty water...it's almost as if the waves were screaming it, the birds and sand whispering it...grace.

"We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking."~David Crowder

This Is What Summer Sounds Like

A flash of harmless lightning, a mist of rainbow dyes, the burnished sunbeams brightening, from flower to flower he flies.

- John Banister Tabb

“Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.” -Charlotte Bronte

It's the first noise that enters my thought process as my eyes open and adjust to the light of the day. It's a faint and calming sound, one that is easily recognized as those small winged creatures that we all so often delight in. I admire their consistency. They sing that same tune over and over, day after day, rain or shine. They pay no mind to circumstance and neither should I. They have been given the freedom to fly, how could we expect them to be silent? Shouldn't it be the same with us? Our chains have been broken...we've been given the gift of flight! Our hearts should be singing daily, rain or shine.

There is a second sound that calms the soul. It is the song of silence, between paperbound pages and well-written words. It is food for the mind and relaxation for the body.  All other noises are put to rest as you loose yourself in the mind of the author. You feel what they felt. You see what they saw. You hear the sounds that they loved most.

A third sound that is more than worthy of notation is the sound of a human soul, young or old. We are His most favored creations.  All of the sounds and scenes given by God were gifted to mankind as a means to point to something greater. All of these beautiful noises that our hearts drink in are just a taste of what's to come. This is what summer sounds like and I never tire of drinking it in. Every note matters. All the little details that are too often pushed aside form this beautiful symphony of a season.

What does summer sound like from your perspective?

Little Friends

I have never been a morning person, but when it comes to this little guy I think I can make an exception. Every time I'd open the bedroom door and come into the kitchen, the light of the day would slap and shock my eyes. "Ugh, it's so bright." I'd mutter under my breath. Then out of nowhere I'd hear my name being called out, as the little man in his Thomas the train pajamas charged at me with open arms. His great big smile made my heart glad and I soon forgot my complaints of the early morning. His high-pitched laughter was always contagious, no matter my mood or the hour. His big brown eyes are so full of life, his little smile so innocent.
I'd plop myself at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cheerio's in front of me. Seconds later he was right next to me, giggling at nothing in particular. His little milk mustache just stayed there, without even the slightest intention of being removed. Breakfast with William is just as fun as playing airplane with him in the living room. He would laugh so loudly as I'd lift him through the air, making silly aircraft noises and then toss him back on the couch. He was such fun to play with. We would go from room to room with pencils and "fence" each other. He would win of course, sending me countless times to the ground as I would fake my death over and over and over again. He would then drop his "sword" and come to my rescue saying, "Here, I'll save you." He'd pull me to my feet once more and the process would continue.
I know that these pictures are a few months old, but I couldn't resist. Going through them again brought back so many happy memories. That lengthy visit with dear friends in Missouri was a time to remember. I still smile to myself now as I recall my little friend waving his small arm back and forth from the doorway. The rain was pounding on the roof of the car and dripping in from the window, but I had to keep it open just a little longer to listen to his young voice call out loudly, "Goodbye! I love you! I love you so much!"
I assume by now that you understand why I miss him so terribly. Oh, little people...they are the sunshine to all of my cloudy days, even if their rays of light only grace me in memories.

Places

The sound of crunching gravel

Beneath both of my shoes

Helps me to unravel

My many issues

Perhaps I don't always get far

Even then, I always return

Somehow from every trek

There is something I can learn

I want to hear Your voice

In the stillness of the skies

Speak to me now

As the sun kisses goodnight

My heartbeat is rapid

Thoughts are steady, then slow

With every breath that leaves my lungs

You're mercy shows

I know that You're with me

Amongst all my confusion

So let Your spirit bring

Another solution

This is where I think. This is where I heal. You might only see a path that connects in circles, carpeted by little rocks, but to me this place means something. It's where I can go to let off steam, to think, to reason with myself about a number of things. I might be running in circles physically, but emotionally and spiritually I am getting somewhere. 

Sometimes I come with a terrible attitude and leave with a whole new perspective. Other nights I arrive smiling on the inside and the happiness only builds. 
This location is special to me for all the thoughts and ideas that have been born in it. Where do you go to think or get away? How does your place look and feel? 

Drench Me Sunshine

The sun was beating down on my skin as I dove into the work before me. The list of chores was building, but it didn't slow me down. Usually when I can't see the end in sight, I want to give up, take a break, or at least just complain, but I didn't mind it at all.

The old rusted clippers were stubborn and dull, making a simple task seem nearly impossible. After a while though you start to find a way around it, like cutting from a different angle or...handing the job off to someone else, in exchange for something different.

I pushed the mower back and forth in long rows and guided it around the trees and bushes. I did my best not to choke on the dust, but a person needs to breathe every once in a while. Some mornings I will wake up to the sound of a neighbor cutting their own lawn and at a distance it's somewhat peaceful. It sounds like summer.

I love to be out in the sunshine as rays of light leak onto my skin, drinking in the clear air and feeling the gentle breeze refresh me every now and then. Singing along loudly to my favorite songs that come through the radio static and thinking about life.

After all is said and done there is nothing that could appeal to me more than a cold drink of water. The wet steam around the glass brings cool to my warm hands and body. I couldn't help but sigh out of contentment after swallowing the cold drink. It sends refreshment right down my throat. Thoughts of summer are constantly resting on my mind. What will the rest of it be like? Excitement has been building inside me, so much so that I just might burst. I don't want to think too much about the future, not to the point that I'm living in it. I want to savor today, because today is more than worth savoring. With the sun shining down on me, I often close my eyes and ask for more of it. Drench me sunshine...I just can't get enough.

What do your summer days look like?

The Last Bang

It was a hot July night on our friend's farm as I sat there on the bed of the truck, watching the night sky explode in various colors. I felt each bang in my chest, as the noise was so great. Laughter was sounded all around me and I couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. Even if I wasn't listening to the subject of their laughter, it still filled me with a sort of happiness.

I was amazed at the quality of this show, seeing as it was a private one. I watched a public show a few weeks later and though I did enjoy myself, watching little kids play on the grass nearby and talking with friends, I must admit I have been spoiled. There is something so much more impressive about setting them off yourself and having it match the performance of a public one. I would say that the real reason I prefer it is the seclusion. Being able to escape the crowds and still reap the benefits is such a refreshing bonus.

                 "Only our individual faith in freedom can keep us free." -Dwight D. Eisenhower

It's the moment we all look forward to, from the time that we arrive, to the first explosion, there is only one thing on our minds. The excitement builds in suspense and then we blink and it's over. We smile because it was worth it, it was what we expected. At a public firework display the massive crowd of strangers clap sophisticatedly out of appreciation, as a means to say thank you to the ones that set them off. That night on the farm, when the last bang was sounded we shouted to fill the silence, almost as a means to say thank you to those that came before us and paid for this thing that we call freedom. We might not know all of their names, but we will remember their bravery and sacrifice forever. 

   "These are the things that make us feel alive

   These are the things that make us realize

   Life is beautiful"-The Afters

I Know You're Out There

My thoughts have been dwelling, quite often, on the lives of the persecuted and poverty stricken. In those countries, Christianity isn't just a feel-good way of life...it's life or death. Jesus isn't someone that they have to "make time for" or fit into their lives; Jesus is their lives.
They leave the world behind, with eyes pointed heavenward. They sing, they clap, they dance, because Jesus has made them glad. They are new creations and they act like it. They have so little, yet give so much. They have nothing and yet they possess everything.
Thinking on them does break my heart at times. I want to hold them, to talk with them...to fulfill at least some of their needs. Oh, but pity is not my only thought towards them. A certain envy for their focus is what comes to my mind. They are not to be looked down upon, but to be held as an example for Christians to see.
As I think on these precious individuals, I am left convicted and as a result disgusted with the amount of distractions that I entertain. All too easily I am drawn to the gold of this world, when I should be striving for the jewels of heaven. It is fools' gold that the world tempts me with. It appears promising for a time, but then I realize that it is nothing. Only the things of Jesus can truly satisfy me.

I wonder what they are doing, what they are thinking, feeling, seeing at this very moment. I know that they're out there, but what are they like? Surely they have dreams, but what do those aspirations look like? The distance prevents these questions from being answered. What if I were to gather my motivation, every ounce of adrenaline and just run? The tracks would be endless and even if I did reach the end, strong seas would prevent me from venturing any further. When I meet them in heaven I plan to hang onto their every word, to look into their glowing eyes and just listen, just ask them what it was like.
Truth be told I have suffered, in more ways than I care to express, but they have suffered physically. Do I even understand the meaning of true tears, real pain? I live a life of comfort and safety, they sleep on dusty streets, in danger of whatever might lurk in the darkness.
This brings me to another thought...I know of someone who has suffered both physical and emotional scars. There are nails on His hands, marks on His side. He bore the intense sins of all the world. As He hung there, in our shame, His heart was heavy with grief. I know that only He can understand the suffering that I have felt, or my brothers and sisters-in Christ across the globe. He can fathom it only because He has felt more of it.
Our chains were heavy, so heavy that only He could break them and now that He has, our response should resemble the focus, the joy, of the poverty stricken and persecuted. What prevents us from singing, loving and even dancing out of gratitude for the love of our savior? I want my eyes to be forever fixed on the things of Jesus. I do not even care to glance back at fools' gold, when I know of the true jewels waiting for me ahead. One day I will love Him perfectly, I will hold nothing back. Until that glorious time, I will continue to learn. I will fall face down in the filth of my own selfishness, but He will lift me up. He will wrap His arms around me and send me on my way, just a little bit stronger, with a little less filth. The process of sanctification will continue until He calls me home to where I belong. Oh how I long for it, but not enough.

Never Fear Shadows

It's that rush of fearful adrenaline when you hear that simple noise, or see that little strip of darkness travel across the floor. Thoughts of possibilities that could occur begin to rush through your mind. Your fingers search the empty spaces for light and then finally, the switch is flipped. The light sweeps away the darkness as sudden as it appeared. The relief is then washed over you and you are reassured of your own security. The light comes to rest on your tear-stained eyes as if to ask why you were afraid. Why did you doubt it's existence?

            "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:5

Fear is misunderstood for something that can never be used for good. Yes, I do believe that darkness has purpose, fear has its benefits. How else could we remember the light? Often times we go along living in the light of the day, taking for granted all of its beauty. We begin to think of ourselves as invincible creatures, able to take on whatever might challenge us. Oh, but it only takes a small shadow to shake us...to crush our pride. It is then that we realize we are not sufficient in and of ourselves. Our own strength is not strong. It isn't good enough and it never will be. We are not the light, but The Light is in us. All too often we walk the path by our own light and it is nothing more than a useless splash, a sample of what true light ought to look like. Our own efforts are artificial. We can not lead the weary and lost by our own definition of light and self-sufficiency. Our smiles should be beaming, our hearts overflowing, our thoughts lovely, our actions loving, proclaiming something greater than ourselves. We must saturate ourselves in the true light and with that comes a righteous confidence, not a pride that repulses. When we tap into the true source of light, darkness has no hold over us, for it has already been overcome. Shadows become a beautiful reminder, one that keeps us humble.

We can chase the shadows all we like, fear them with every fiber of our being. We could spend our entire lives running from that small strip of darkness, or we could see it for what it really is: A metaphor and a reminder that there is something greater, something stronger, something brighter than that little shadow. A light is shining, for without light, there would be no shadow and without shadows, we would be ignorant to the true light, walking in our own definition of it.