2 gifts found

#183 seashells

 

#184 words to express gratitude to God…

I rejoiced being on the beach because it had been almost two years since I’d been there...even though it was at the end of February. It was a girls weekend. There were six of us who had been looking forward to this retreat for a long time to reconnect with each other’s hearts.

Soon after we got there, I wanted to get my feet in the sand and see the beauty of the seashore.

Even though a storm was brewing.

I was a little disheartened. I was honestly hoping for a sunny day. Blue sky. Puffy clouds. At least it was unusually warm for a winter day. But it wasn’t the way I wanted it to be.

The wind was not a constant, gently breeze like a usual summer day, either. Instead it whipped and almost howled. The clouds were low and dark.

That threat didn’t stop me though. As soon as my feet hit the shore, my shoes came off and my feet and toes sighed with joy as they disappeared under the sand. Finally…to feel cool, smooth, almost satin-like sand in between my toes is one of my favorite things of the beach. As I continued to walk towards the water, the sand became a little rougher because there were tiny and very fine broken shells mixed in with the silky sand. Then even closer to the ocean where the sand was wet, lay seashell after seashell…hundreds piled on top of others, some standing alone. Some broken. Some whole. Some beautiful. Some ugly-beautiful.

But because the storm was approaching, the wind had picked up and it was pushing me forward while I was trying to resist it to have a relaxing walk on the beach with a friend. It didn’t take long for me to be bracing against the wind and my toes clutched in the sand to keep a grip so I wouldn’t fall. Our hair blew around our head and neck into our face and eyes. I looked behind me and I suddenly saw bands of almost-white-sand racing towards us. Then I began to feel sharp, prickly, very tiny pellets hitting my neck, arms, and ankles. It was hundreds of tiny, minute grains of sand…the feeling was not comfortable. It made my skin sting.

We tried to bear it and walk a little further. There were people out in the water with their surfboards because the waves were calling for surfers while swelling and rising higher than usual. Since it had been almost two years since I had been on the shore, I wanted to enjoy this time.

But we had to turn around.

And as we went back, this time the wind tried to push us back. We had to lean forward to walk. And as we braved the wind and headed back, I once again heard the wind whisper louder and louder. At the exact same moment the sand felt like silk in between my toes and overtop of my feet, yet at the same time, it felt as if there were hundreds of sharp pieces of tiny, tiny glass being thrown at my ankles, arms and face.

It made me turn my head to the side to keep it from getting into my eyes. I wanted to see though.

See the amazing strength of wind.

See the beauty of a band of sand that stretches for yards.

See and feel the awe of God’s power.

The swift bands of sand moved one after another when the wind came strong. The long band reached from the dunes to the beginning of the wet sand with a forceful rush forward. It swirled right around us and then blew all the way down the shore until it was no longer visible.

It amazes me to think, to feel, to see how strong a minute grain of sand can be.

Isn’t God like that? He’s calming like smooth sand under your feet and refreshes the soul that makes us sigh with gratitude for His mercies and blessings. Yet, like sand, He can also grab our attention in ways we weren’t expecting, in ways that aren’t comfortable or aren’t the way we want things to be. But like the beach, even though there are beautiful days and storms, I still enjoy being at the beach. Even though there are good days and ones that are not as good, God is the same, never-changing, Almighty God in whom I want to be in His Presence.

God knows His vastness and speaks about grains of sand to Jeremiah. “I will make the descendants of David my servant and the Levites who minister before me as countless as the stars of the sky and as measureless as the sand on the seashore.” (Jeremiah 33:22)

God says the grains of sand are measureless…countless.

Can you just imagine? You’re on the beach and you hold a handful of sand. When you look closely at each grain of sand, you know you wouldn’t be able to count each individual grain. You’d go crazy! And just think…that’s just a handful. Think of all the sand on the seashore just as far as you can see! Then think of each grain within a few miles radiance.

Seashores surround each continent and island on this big planet. And when I think of it, there’s sand underneath the vast world ocean that takes up almost two-thirds of this planet. Research says the Earth’s global ocean…the continuous body of water… is the largest confirmed surface of ocean on all observable planets…approximately 71% of the planet’s surface. You know when the sand had been out in the sunshine, it dries and can be seen as individual grains. You cannot see that when the sand is wet but just think if it dried, how many more grains there would be!

And then there’s deserts…

That’s measureless…countless…infinite. That’s difficult to grasp, yet, God loves us that much and more.

In Psalm 139:18 David praises God and says,

“How amazing are Your thoughts concerning me!

How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand…”

Now fill in your name as if you wrote it…as a prayer.

Thank God for every grain of sand…and that’s not even close to how much He thinks about you.

Thank God for His immeasurable love.

Thank God for places like the beach to remind of us of that promise.

Thank God for the remnants.

Two days later, before we had to leave, I wanted to walk on the beach one more time. The waves were calm now. Storms had passed. There was a light breeze. I took a deep breath of the salt air and walked into the sand…the holy ground…and sighed.

I want there to be remnants from this time on the beach where I felt God’s Presence, where I could see His power and beauty.

Remnants…the remaining grains of sand that follow you home.

When you’ve been to the beach, you know sand is found in nooks and crannies and sticks in between your toes, under your fingernails, in towels and in your beach bags and buckets. The remnants of the seashore make it from the beach back home miles away. Sand to remind of us the seashore.

They are also remnants…traces… of holy moments…to remind me.

In Romans 11:1-9, Paul tells the Jews in Rome about the remnants of Israel. He told them how God’s law will always remain because His law is perfect. But we are not perfect and that is why Jesus was sent as a sacrifice. Jesus is the only One who obeyed the Law without sin. Jesus is the only One who lived on this earth, and ever will, who is sinless…perfect. So, Jesus became that perfect, sinless One to represent you and me.

Paul was reminding the Roman Jews how in the years past, since the beginning of time, there were many wars and devastations where many of God’s people were killed. But He always allowed some to survive in order to continue His plan. Old Testament prophets called them the “remnants”. Remnants to continue His Story. Remnants to be reminders of His promises.

“God has preserved a remnant, elected by grace. Grace is central in God’s action here, and it has nothing to do with deeds prescribed by the law. If it did, grace would not be grace.” Romans 11:5-6

Tears of gratitude for God’s grace filled my eyes as I walked on the beach. Tears filled my eyes that I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop at that moment. I didn’t want to forget how He thinks of me more than the innumerable grains of sand, of His power and Presence in the wind, of the peace as I felt the soft sand. It was a seashore experience…like a mountaintop experience where you don’t want to climb down…or walk away from.

My heart was filled with gratitude that weekend with my sisters through Christ and seashore experiences which showed me grace and gave me rejuvenation.

Rejuvenation to write.