Do you need a firm place to stand today? I know I do! Read on to find your footing….
Today, I find myself thinking a lot about the beach. It might be because we had a blast of cold weather blow across the South last week, but more likely, it’s because when I think of the beach, I think of peace.
I love to bury my toes in the sand, close my eyes and breath deep while I listen to the sound of birds calling, kids laughing and waves crashing.
Watching white foam wash up on white sand again and again is beautiful. The waves are beautiful.
But they are also powerful.
I don’t always appreciate that fact until I find myself out in them.
When I was a kid, my older sister and I loved to play in the waves, jumping as each one came our way. It was fun. It was thrilling. It was easy.
Until we lost our footing.
Then, every time we tried to stand, we were hit with another wave. We were lucky to get a deep breath before the water washed over us once again. What started as fun became frightening.
Usually, the only way to get out of the waves was to head back to shore where the water was shallow.
The only solution was to find a firm place to put our feet.
Gasping for breath, we collapsed on the sand just out of the water’s reach.
The waves kept coming, but they no longer threatened to pull us under. Their power hadn’t changed; our position had.
The truth is that’s what has me thinking of the beach today because the waves of life have been hammering us hard lately.
I feel like every time we try to stand on shaky legs another waves wipes them right out from under us.
It’s exhausting. And, it’s relentless.
My husband’s immunotherapy treatments have been delayed again because our family has had Covid.
I find myself succumbing to the waves of worry when I think of the cancer in his body and fear it’s having free rein. Then, there’s the problem of the fact that every babysitter I know has Covid, too, so if we are able to go for his treatments, what do we do with the kids? And, if we can get someone to care for the kids and my mother-in-law, do we risk having more germs introduced into our home and family?
My thoughts form a spiral of anxiety that rushes over me just like those waves.
Like David, I cry out, “From the ends of the earth, I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” (Psalm 61:2)
I need a firm place to plant my feet, and my God provides it.
Actually, my God IS it.
“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” (Psalm 18:2)
Just like I crawled to the shore as a child, sometimes clawing my way to the hard, packed sand that didn’t wash away with every wave, I have to hold fast to the rock that doesn’t wobble with every fear I face.
“For in the day of trouble, he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.” (Psalm 27:5)
That’s why, we can say, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:26)
And that word “strength”? It means “rock.”
Because today, maybe we don’t need muscle or might but a firm place for our feet. One that doesn’t shift like sand when waves wash over it. Maybe I don’t need the stamina to keep standing as one more crisis comes. Maybe I need a rock to rest on.
Maybe you do, too.
Today, I encourage you to cling to the rock.
“Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the rock eternal.” (Isaiah 26:4)
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