Sh-h-h, I hear something stronger than the whistle of the wind at the beach, and louder than the roar of the ocean waves. I hear whispers from God. From His creation. From His heart.
I stand in awe that He included me in His design. Majestic Creator.
“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? … O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” (Psalm 8:3-9, NIV)
* * *
LISTEN TO THE BEACH
I look out at the expanse of the beach. It is home to sandpipers, seagulls, and crabs. It holds years of memories: siblings building a sandcastle, lovers walking hand in hand at sunset dreaming of a bright future, tumultuous hurricanes and brutal blizzards. Today the beach lies tranquil.
It is vast. As far as I can see. Immense. Measureless.
“How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.” (Psalm 139:17-18, NIV)
I watch two seagulls playfully tease each other, then fly away. The blue sky stretches to cover land and sea like a canopy. No obstructions. No limits. As far as I can see. And beyond.
The LORD is measureless. “As far as the east is from the west, I remember your sins no more.” (Psalms 103:12, NIV) His love – no limits. His forgiveness – no conditions. His wooden cross – my canopy.
* * *
LISTEN TO THE WAVES
Some waves greet the sandy beach with a gentle splash. Others interrupt serenity with a tumbling crash. Some are heard from afar. Others are never heard.
The steady rhythm is soothing. The swell, the crash, the last ripple. Over and over. Powerful swells rise in a steady rocking motion. Gentle swirls write their graceful signature on the shoreline. The rhythm of movement. The rhythm of sounds. From sunrise. To sunset. Since the beginning of time. Continual. Steadfast. Dependable.
The LORD is constant. His dependability gives me security. In the brightest days. In the darkest nights. Unchangeable Character. Unwavering Promises. Unconditional Love. Unending Mercy. Unfailing Forgiveness. Unbiased Justice. Unmatched Wisdom.
* * *
LISTEN TO THE SHELLS
The low tide dots the beach with shells – different shapes, sizes, colors, and textures. Some are broken; some are whole.
Stooping, I pick up a shattered conch. Its brokenness gives it unique beauty. It fits perfectly in the palm of my hand, almost as if specially formed for me.
Its smoothness reveals it was held firmly in a place of constant pressure and relentless abrasiveness – gritty sand, salty surf, pounding turbulence, icy winters, blazing summers.
The LORD forms me. He holds me firm in my place of pressure. To smooth my rough edges. To strengthen my broken part. To make me unique. To specially form me. For His use. For His enjoyment. Forever held in the palm of His hand.
* * *
LISTEN TO THE ROCKS
A rock levee reaches out into the water. I climb on the boulders, walk to the end, and sit on a solid rock. The waves are close – in front of me, behind me, alongside me. From this secure vantage point, I watch the swirling, dark water beneath me. The rock is high to keep me dry and sturdy to keep me safe. As the powerful swells rush past, I feel only the refreshing spray.
The Lord is my Rock. He reaches among the waves of my life. He is above all. When I lean on Him, I am not overwhelmed. When I rest on Him, I am safe.
Some of the rocks on the levee are smooth. Others are jagged. Many are wet. A few are dry. The rock upon which I sit supports me. It takes the brunt of repeated waves, salt, and wind. Year after year. Through blistering summers, blustery winters, it stands firm. The rock remains unmovable and unchanged.
The LORD is my strength. He takes the brunt of the waves of my life. He feels the impact of the rough waves and wind gusts. He does not move. He will not move. His faithful strength is my stability.
* * *
LISTEN TO THE CREVICE
Standing at the tide’s edge, I notice a crevice. It is large enough to crawl between. The sandy floor is dry. The rugged walls muffle the sounds. The sturdy rocks provide protection. It is warm. It is quiet. Looking out from this cleft, I see peaceful beauty.
The LORD is my hiding place. He gently invites me into His embrace. He surrounds me… for my protection…for my respite.
Leaning against the protective crevice, I rest. As the sun warms me and the breeze touches my face, I close my eyes. Humming the words of the hymn writer, Fanny Crosby, my spirit relaxes:
“He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock that shadows a dry, thirsty land. He hideth my life in the depths of His love and covers me there with His hand.”
* * *
I AM IN AWE
I turn to leave this place of quiet majesty. I take the whispers with me. Whispers from my Creator, my Father.
I echo Frederick Lehman’s awe-filled words in his hymn "The Love of God":
“Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.”
