I love the beach. There is nothing like sitting on the shore and listening to the waves lap upon the sand. There was a time in my life when I made a concerted effort to get to the beach on a regular basis. It didn’t matter if the yard needed mowing, homework was due, or the chores needed attending to, I would make my beach time a priority.

But then, life happens.

I got busy. I got lazy. And the preparation and the packing and the drive just didn’t seem as important when I was tired from working my two jobs. I missed the beach, but I did not make the effort to get to the beach. Oh, my friends went. I saw it in the movies and on the TV screen. But of course, that’s not the same as actually being there myself.

I recently returned to the shore. After several years, I made a reservation at one of my favorite rental places, packed for the weekend, and made the trip

You know what?  The beach is still there. Beautiful. Constant. Steady.  I began to wonder what had taken me so long to get back to this place that I loved.  What had been so important as to keep me from this spot?

That morning as I sat on a bench overlooking the vastness of the sea, I had to close my eyes as the sun began to rise above the horizon and assume its brilliance. I felt the warmth radiating across my face, and I felt like I was home. 

As I looked around my favorite little spot, many things had changed. The landscape was not exactly the same as it had the last time I was there several years ago. The pier had been refurbished and the dunes had been replenished and were now cordoned off.  There were benches added, along with an area for grilling and a few other amenities. The scene had definitely changed.

I thought about how the landscape of my life had changed as well; the last time I was at this spot, I was in a different job and had a different circle of friends.  I drove a different car, and my youngest nephew was not even with us yet. But my dad still was.

It seemed it did not matter how much time had gone by or how much my daily life had changed, one thing had not changed–the waves still lapped up on the shore.  Beautiful. Constant. Steady. Day after day. Year after year. Decade after decade.  The rising of the sun and the continuity of the waves did not depend on whether or not I chose to be present.  But the choices I made did determine how much time I spent enjoying what was available every day.

And it occurred to me how much the ocean reflects the love of our God.  He is always there. Beautiful.  Constant. Steady. His faithfulness does not waver as our circumstances change.  He is there always.  Day after day. Decade after decade.  And generation after generation.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;  his mercies never come to an end; they are new  every morning; great is your faithfulness — Lamentations 3:22-23

I began to taste salty water, and soon realized it was not the spray of the ocean, but my own tears as I thought about the many times I had gotten too busy or too lazy to spend time in the presence of my God.  What had taken me so long to get back to this place that I loved?  What had been so important as to keep me from this spot?

And as I began to feel the warmth radiate upward from within my soul,  I knew that I was home. Truly home.

My friends, our Father is as constant as that beach.  He is available every single day and He is beckoning you to come and sit with him.  It does not matter how long you have been away, or how far you have gone.  Luke 15:20 tells us that while the prodigal son was still a long way off, “the father ran to him.”  He is eager to spend time with you.  Make the effort.  I guarantee you will wonder what took you so long.  

Of that, I am shore.

Recently, a friend of mine and I jumped in the car and drove 22 hours to get from Florida to her family’s home in Nebraska.  Twenty-two hours on the road. We were blessed with good music, great conversation, and a passenger seat that reclined.   She was taking advantage of that reclining seat about 4 a.m. as we drove north on I-75.  The road was dark with the exception of a lone set of headlights every few minutes, and the moon did little to light our way as an approaching storm provided extensive cloud cover.

The rhythmic beat of the tires on the pavement was the only sound as the car sped northward.  I took advantage of the time to say yet another prayer for protection as we traveled, knowing that if the storm did not skirt us, we would be driving in less than ideal conditions.  Water ponding on the dark asphalt would be difficult to see, and hitting that at 70mph could easily cause us to lose traction and spin out of control.

As the miles passed and the raindrops began to kiss the windshield, I slowed my speed and thought about how something as simple as water could turn into a hazard.  Water is essential, yet if it is allowed to get between the tire and the road, it causes a loss of traction. Traction is defined as how well something grips onto something and moves ahead without slipping.  Water, oil, sand and gravel are all enemies of good traction, because they allow the wheels to spin without gripping the ground and producing the friction necessary to move the car forward. Allowing an enemy to get between the tire and the road could literally drive you to distraction.

Which is exactly what the enemy of our soul does to us; he will use anything he can to get between us and God.  What is he using to distract you? What takes up your time so much that it lessens or altogether eliminates your time with God?  It could be something obvious like TV or social media. Or he could be more subtle, using your job or your kids to pull you away from your devo time.

One of his favorite tools is busyness, and we play into his hands very nicely.  Society today tells us that we have to have the nice house, and the new car to drive us to the two jobs that we need to pay for the nice house, which we never enjoy because we are always working.  The kids need to be involved in various activities, which lead to fast food stains on the new car seats because we are so busy driving them to practices that we don’t have time to sit at the new table in the nice house for a family dinner.

Even when we do find time to plant ourselves in front of the flat screen, the networks cannot let you enjoy the show without having some distracting little advertisements on the bottom of the screen telling you what is coming up next or showing you live tweets during a reality TV show.  Web pages have ads constantly scrolling along the side of the screen.  And smart phones have become so essential that we feel we must check them constantly, including while driving, having lunch with a friend, or while in church.  Multi-tasking has become the new norm, and if you are not being inundated with a barrage of information at all times, you feel something is off.  The world tells us to keep moving, keep working, keep tweeting, and don’t slow down.  But what does God say?

Be still and know that I am God—Ps. 46:10 

God tells us to be still.  Why?  Why must we stop in order to listen?

In 1Kings 19, God instructs Elijah to come out of the cave and stand on the mountain, “for the Lord is going to pass by.”  Elijah did so, and a great and mighty wind blew.  But God was not in the wind.  Then came a large earthquake, followed by a fire.  But God was not in the earthquake, and He was not in the fire.

And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

God is so close, that He whispers.  And in the midst of the noise and chaos of busyness, we can’t hear that still, small voice.  The enemy of your soul knows this, and he is happy when you are busy and distracted.  His goal is to put something between you and God so that you lose traction. And although your wheels may be spinning, you will not be moving forward.

It is in stillness, not busyness, that we can tune our spiritual ears to hear the voice of God.

Be still.

And know.

“Andrew! Get back here!”

Those were the words preventing me from accomplishing my goal of napping on the beach that day. The man yelled them over and over until apparently Andrew finally heard him. Relinquishing all hopes of slumber, I looked up and scanned the beach until I saw a young boy exiting the water and making his way to the yelling man.

It was a scene that took me back to my childhood.

For those of us who grew up here in Northeast Florida, we remember very well when we could drive on the beaches.  Our parents would park the car, and we would race off into the water directly in front of the vehicle, barely able to contain our enthusiasm. We jumped and splashed and rode the waves in toward the shore over and over again. Then, at some point, we would hear a distant sound of a familiar voice calling our name. When we realized we were being called, we stopped, looked around, and discovered that the source of the calling was at least a half mile or so up the beach.  We had drifted.

Not intentionally. It wasn’t on purpose. But as we frolicked in the water, just enjoying ourselves, the current had carried us away. We didn’t even realize it, and still wouldn’t know, it if had not been for the deep, resounding voice of our dad calling our name, and waving us back in. So the only choice at this point was to get out of the water, and walk step by step, back to the place that Dad had set up for you.

Sometimes we would ignore the call, not wanting to leave the water, and knowing that fighting the current to return would be a pointless effort. We would exhaust ourselves, and never get any closer, so we continued to play and splash. It was no big deal–you could always go back when you wanted. But the longer you waited, the further you drifted. At some point, regardless of the fun, you would get tired and hungry. And then you would remember that there was a feast waiting for you.  When you reached the point where the hunger outweighed the fun, you rode in a final wave, walked to the shore, and began the long trek back through the soft sand. To the place of comfort, where there was food and water, towels to dry off and sunscreen for protection. Everything you needed.

Over the years, this scene was repeated over and over again. But as you matured, you began to realize that you could avoid the drudgery of a long, soft-sanded hike if you only made an effort.  If you intentionally looked for Dad every few minutes, you would realize how quickly the current was trying to pull you away. By exiting the water then, and purposely positioning yourself in front of your father, the pull of the current had no effect on where you stood.

When you were stationed in front of your dad, you didn’t have to wait until you were starving to go look for him. You didn’t have to wait until you were exhausted and then walk that mile and a half to rest. The snacks were right there. The chairs were right there.

And the funny thing is, they always were. Dad didn’t pack up and move the car every 30 minutes so that we had to search for him; he never moved—we did. And the same holds true today, whether on the shore or on the mountain: our Father never moves.  How far we allow the undertow of the culture to carry us depends entirely on us.

Daniel faced the same lure when he was taken captive and told to adapt to the ways of Babylon.  The current of our culture today is just as strong, but just as subtle. It will carry us away before we even realize we have compromised. Daniel managed to remain in his new world, but not of his new world. How did he do it?

Daniel made up his mind not to harm himself by eating the king’s rich food and drinking the king’s wine.  –Dan 1:8 

Daniel made up his mind.  He decided. He made a decision. Some versions say “he purposed in his heart.”  We must resolve to keep ourselves positioned in front of our Father so that we avoid the drift. But resolve is not enough; to resolve is to make a strong determination to do something. You must DECIDE to do something, and then you must DO it.

Then, by purposely positioning yourself in front of your Father, the pull of the current has no effect on where you stand.

Stay in the Word. Meditate on scripture and plant it firmly in your heart. Surround yourselves with strong, godly friends and draw from their strength. Show mercy to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Pray for someone who needs it. Give generously. Not only of your money, but of your time and of yourself.  Love those who can do nothing for you. These are things that the world does not do.

Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth –Col 3:2

Look at things from a higher perspective. The higher you go, the smaller everything else appears.  And the weaker the pull of the undertow. Make consistent efforts to hold yourself above the water line.

For the current only exists under the surface.