And yet, and yet…

Recently my family had the privilege of getting to spend some time together down in Port Aransas and (as the girls call it) Corpus Crispy. We enjoy going down there for the seafood, for the aquarium, for the two-story Whataburger, but most of all for the sea. It is a non-negotiable that if we’re by the ocean, we’ll go to it regardless of temperature or weather.

Standing in the surf always reminds me of the Lord. Always flowing in to the sand bringing and giving life, always drawing us back to his majesty and greatness, his care, his power. The vastness, the constancy of the sea is something that stirs the soul to something greater than itself.

And yet, the depths frighten me. I know the world-moving damage that’s been done by the sea and how many of the ancients thought of it as a monster. I know that the gentle tide can become a raging maelstrom of terror. How can the gentle surf that my children play in also be the force that can devastate in a storm?

But that’s the thing about the Absolute. We forever have to conform ourselves to its design, not our own. Houses built below the boundaries of the sea will likely one day be washed away. People that treat the ocean with flippancy find themselves in dangerous situations. The sea is nothing to be circumvented, nothing to be trifled with.

And then, after the storm, the sea resumes giving and drawing. Giving and drawing. Giving and drawing. It erases the scars that we leave on the sand and restores and redeems. Where we would manipulate and degrade, the sea returns life. It even takes the blobs of concrete and steel we drop for man-made structures and turns them into reefs brimming with life.

Thus we stand on the edge of the sea. We are given a view to the majestic power of the King of the Universe, and yet are granted the grace of standing in the surf. In your life, you may have known many facets of this metaphor. You may have faced the terror and power of the natural world, of illness, of disappointment. You may have received the life-giving grace that the Lord gives. You may stand looking at the sea where Leviathan lives and wonder, “Who am I that the Lord would know me? Does he care for me? How can I possibly stand at the edge of such wonder and live?”

And the sea draws, and the sea gives. And the Lord draws, and the Lord gives.

As you dance in the waves of the calm surf, as you navigate the depths in storm, my hope is that you’ll raise your eyes to the heavens and recognize your Maker, your Redeemer, your Sustainer, your Master, your Friend. I hope that when you have the chance to consider yourself beside the ocean, that you feel small, that you know the might of the Creator, and that you feel his grace that forever draws you back to him.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

The floods have lifted up, O Lord,
    the floods have lifted up their voice;
    the floods lift up their roaring.
⁴ Mightier than the thunders of many waters,
    mightier than the waves of the sea,
    the Lord on high is mighty! Psalm 93:3-4