Praise him who planted the water within the earth, for his loving-kindness continues forever.
(Ps. 136:6 TLB)
Hate is such a strong word, yet when it comes to my dislike for the beach, it’s been the most appropriate description. At a young age, heading to the beach on the North Sea (Netherlands), we were told to be careful in the water. There were a lot of jellyfish, and their stings would hurt. I didn’t get stung because I didn't go into the water. This is where my dislike for the beach began.
I have two toes on each foot that are slightly webbed. The kids would call me “duck feet” and wonder why I wasn’t a better swimmer. Going to the beach meant taking my socks off, exposing my “duck feet,” and opening up myself to ridicule. The dislike for the beach grew.
As a teenager, and no longer caring what others thought of my toes, I would venture to the beach with my peers. This is where the action was. This is where my friends were. This is where all the cool kids hung out. I’d go – I’d get wet sand in between my toes, sand in my shorts, on my ice cream, and all over my towel – and I’d end up sunburned everywhere. My dislike for the beach had turned to hatred.
My wife (who loves the beach) would take our children there as often as she could. My hatred for all things sandy was stronger than my love for hanging out with my family. Friends and family would visit, and I’d have my grab bag of excuses ready: I’m not feeling well. My knee hurts. I have work to do …. The hatred for the beach was an immovable emotion.
And then I moved to Cape Sable Island. I ventured to the beach with my wife (only to walk). She really wanted me to go, so I went. I went multiple times. I didn't have to take my shoes off. I didn't have to take my shirt off. I didn't have to lay down on a towel. I only had to walk. My hatred for the beach lessened. I felt something peaceful on that beach.
You rule the oceans when their waves arise in fearful storms; you speak, and they lie still.
(Ps. 89:9 TLB)
We got a puppy, a puppy full of energy. She needed a place to run. The beach was the perfect place. My smiles were a mile wide watching her run around like a banshee. I would stop to watch the birds, a seal or two, the fishing boats, the sun setting. My hatred for the beach diminished further.
The pandemic forced us to stay away from public beaches. We could no longer go. I found myself missing the trips. Friends offered us private access to a beach (which was allowed). We walked some more (the dog ran). There were times when Leona couldn’t go because she was working, so I went alone.
Two years previously, I never would have imagined voluntarily going alone to a beach, yet here I was – alone with my thoughts, talking to God, meditating on ideas, and laughing as Toby (the puppy) released her energy. I enjoyed the beach!
Life has a funny way of changing people. For fifty-four years I would have nothing to do with the beach, and now it's my preferred place to go for reflection, for exercise, for conversation – with whoever walks with me.
Life has a funny way of changing people. For thirty-four years I would have nothing to do with God. I wasn’t going to walk with Him (and let Him put wet sand in my shoes). I wasn’t going to let Him look at my feet and ridicule me for walking down the wrong path – walking with the wrong people. I wasn’t going to let His Son shine down on me, believing that the burn would be too painful. But, at one point, I did let Him – and my life was changed. The Son was good. My life was brighter. My path was more narrow and more joyful. Just as I had discovered the beach was good, I discovered God was good. The beach, created by God, blesses me – for His glory.
I Love the Beach!
The God who made both earth and heaven, the seas and everything in them. He is the God who keeps every promise.
(Ps. 146:6 TLB)
