Cybercolumn by John Duncan: Sand on the seashore

Posted: 4/05/06

CYBER COLUMN:
Sand on the seashore

By John Duncan

I’m sitting here under the old oak tree, pondering the tides of life. The ocean tides ebb and flow amid picturesque sunsets, where the orange sun reflects on blue waters while the ocean tides ripple to the shore. Life has its ebb and flow and sunsets and ripple effects, too.

During spring break, I took a trip to Mexico. I walked on the sandy beach with the sand sandwiched between my toes. Can I, as a preacher of good news, ever walk on the sandy shores of a beach without thinking of God’s word to Abraham that he will bless his chosen people as the sands of the sea? (Genesis 22:17) I take that to mean that God’s one big blessing will come in small does like tiny grains of sand squishing together on ocean shores to make a beach where seashells turn up and crabs burrow and seaweed washes up and where sunbathers lay out under the scorching heat and little girls and boys with plastic shovels build sand castles.

Can I ever think of sand without thinking of Joseph storing up grain during the Egyptian drought like the sand of the sea? (Genesis 41:49)

Can I ever think of sand without thinking of God’s blessing to the Israelite tribe of Zebulun, that God would bless them with a feast that would be like finding treasures in the sand? (Deuteronomy 33:19)

Can I ever feel sand between my toes without thinking of Job in his anguish, complaining that his pain outweighed the sum total of the sands of the sea? (Job 6:3)

Or Jesus talking about a man who built his house on the sand and the house fell like a mansion in California that mudslides into the Pacific Ocean because of the drenching rain or Jesus writing in the sand with the woman caught in adultery while the steely eyed Pharisees looked on with skepticism? (Matthew 7:26; John 8:8)

I walked on the sand in Mexico with my family following. We looked for a place to lay our stuff and sit in the sunshine and watch the beautiful ocean tides ebb and flow. As I walked I observed—two teenagers, one a boy drunk as a skunk, whatever that means, and a girl puking her guts from a day of combined sun and moonshine; swimmers with snorkels skimming the depths for colored fish; a ski boat pulling a parasail draped against the horizon and a blue sky; jet skiers and sailboaters cruising the ocean waters that, from a distance, looked like glass; swimmers laughing; and beside me on the shore, a boy playing in the sand while building a sand castle that the ocean tide kept pounding and dissolving his walls.

We finally found a landing spot with beach chairs. I settled on the shore, then later swam out to the iceberg, a huge plastic balloon in the water, the equivalent of a rock climber’s paradise. I climbed the iceberg and slid down into the water and swam back to the shore. I sat on the shore again. I observed the scenery as the tropical sun radiated heat to the sand.

I noticed a man helping a woman out of the water. Did she cut her foot on coral? Did she twist her ankle moving about in the tides and shifting sand? Had a swimmer accidentally kicked her and now she could barely walk?

The man lifted her from the water as they walked, their upper torsos harmoniously gliding out of the water. My eyes sat in wonder as I saw that she had one leg. They fell on the sandy shore, she bracing the fall with her arm and wrist and he picking her up again. They laughed, as if to say to one another amid the smiles that all is well. He picked her up completely, cradling her like a child in his arms, and gently placed her on the beach. He turned and went back to the ocean, the ebb and flow of the ocean cascading against his legs while he kept his eyes on her.

All the while, I am thinking of Abraham and Joseph and Job and Jesus and sands of the seashore and weighty sand of anguish and words in the sand and blessings like tiny grains of sand dropping into our lap to make a beach of blessings. I am thinking too of life, that as much as I hate to spiritualize the moment, and with respect to the disabled in our world, that we are all crippled in some way, physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually, with weights and burdens of trouble and care that wash against our lives and dissolve the walls like that little boy’s sand castle.

I am reminded that we in our despair and crippled helplessness and in life limping along that we need Jesus to carry us in the ocean of life and to pick us up when we fall and to keep his eyes of love on us in the currents and tides of life.

I visited Riley Robeson and his wife, Laverne, the other day. They lived as saints. They are charter members of the church I am privileged to pastor. Their fortysomething daughter died not long ago, and my pastoral history for 19 years included funerals in the loss of a grandchild and son-in-law and memories of eating roast at their house and good times in the excitement of church growth. They live in a nursing home, where Riley says, “The food ain’t near as good as I used to get at home.” Now he walks with a walker and Laverne is in another world, barely recognizing people and talking out of her mind with words like “I wonder if someone is going to kidnap us and take us to South America and kill us?”

Just the other day, I told Riley: “I miss you at church. I really miss you.” He was always positive and visionary and encouraging, and when those kind of people are not around anymore, you miss them. So I told him so.

Riley said he missed me and the church, too. I said, “Brother Riley, I guess you never planned on this, huh?” Riley has worked hard all of his life, well into his eighties. A tear welled up in his eye but never came out, his misty eyes peering off in the distance and staring as if the blank wall held a beautiful scene like the blue ocean waters of Mexico.

“No,” he said, “I never planned on this. You just never know what you’re gonna do when the props get pulled out from under you. I just try to trust the Lord.”

“Props” took my mind back to the sandy shores of Mexico.

So there it is, blue ocean waters with sandy shores and a man lifting a one-legged woman out of the water and Jesus at the center of the ocean of life. Admit it or not, props get knocked out from under us in the ocean of life, the ebb of unexpected losses and the tide of tragedy and the cascading ripple of life itself, and we need for someone to carry us, lift us when we fall, and keep his loving eyes on us.

It’s spring. Under this old oak tree green leaves blossom. Bluebonnets poke their way from the Texas soil soon. Days get longer. Birds chirp. Fish jump out of the water. And somewhere there is a lady with one leg. All in all, Jesus came to prop us up, today, tomorrow, forever. And God blesses, in small doses one grain of sand at a time to form abundant life more glorious than the beach.

John Duncan is pastor of Lakeside Baptist Church in Granbury, Texas, and the writer of numerous articles in various journals and magazines. You can respond to his column by e-mailing him at jduncan@lakesidebc.org.