When I was young, my family would take day trips to the beach. Mom would pack sandwiches in the cooler, and pack us into our swimsuits; Dad would pack us all into the station wagon, and off we'd go. Once Mom set up shop on the musty old Army blanket, that's where she remained for the rest of the day; Dad was the free spirit. He would play with us in the surf, splashing and squirting us, coaxing us to swim toward him.
On one occasion -- the specific one that came to mind as I was listening to Pastor's sermon -- Dad was carrying me piggyback deeper and deeper into the Atlantic. I was excitedly urging him to keep going, my wet feet swinging back and forth along his sides, and my bottom bouncing up and down in his arms. I tightened my grip around his neck as he pressed on. I looked across the surface of the water and saw a discarded cupcake wrapper floating, tarnishing this perfect setting for fun. A few steps further, and there was another. And another. I can't recall if I spoke first, or if Dad offered up the explanation: they were not discarded wrappers at all, they were dead jellyfish.
As I sat down to write today, I was curious as to how Dad had immediately identified those stinging blobs as dead; so...Google to the rescue. The long and the short of it is, unless they are decomposed, or it is obvious they are being carried, lifeless by the current; unless you make contact, there are few ways to determine if they are truly dead. Perhaps Dad had poked one somehow -- he was sort of fearless that way -- or perhaps he did not wish to alarm me; either way, they were "dead" to me. We pressed on.
And that is the point at which my twisted little mind returned to the sermon; but it hadn't strayed far or long. You see, my momentary journey was, in some ways, a picture of the Christian walk. We can all remain "safely on shore". We can trust in what makes us feel comfortable; we can remain on what, for now, appears to be sturdy, dry ground. We can allow our fear to keep us beached on some musty old territory, with only a cooler full of PB&J for the rest of the trip. But where will that take us? And what happens when the tide rolls in, sweeping away our comfortable little roost?
Or, we can frolic in the surf with our Father. We can cling tightly to Him as He leads us further and further into the great Deep. We can ride safely in His arms toward what might normally frighten us were we to travel it on our own; we can fearlessly, excitedly urge Him to carry us "further! deeper!" And we can know, the dangers that may await us on our journey are dead to us; nothing more than harmless discarded rubbish, rendered ineffective and completely under the authority of the Living God. Our Father.
As I sat down to write today, I was curious as to how Dad had immediately identified those stinging blobs as dead; so...Google to the rescue. The long and the short of it is, unless they are decomposed, or it is obvious they are being carried, lifeless by the current; unless you make contact, there are few ways to determine if they are truly dead. Perhaps Dad had poked one somehow -- he was sort of fearless that way -- or perhaps he did not wish to alarm me; either way, they were "dead" to me. We pressed on.
And that is the point at which my twisted little mind returned to the sermon; but it hadn't strayed far or long. You see, my momentary journey was, in some ways, a picture of the Christian walk. We can all remain "safely on shore". We can trust in what makes us feel comfortable; we can remain on what, for now, appears to be sturdy, dry ground. We can allow our fear to keep us beached on some musty old territory, with only a cooler full of PB&J for the rest of the trip. But where will that take us? And what happens when the tide rolls in, sweeping away our comfortable little roost?
Or, we can frolic in the surf with our Father. We can cling tightly to Him as He leads us further and further into the great Deep. We can ride safely in His arms toward what might normally frighten us were we to travel it on our own; we can fearlessly, excitedly urge Him to carry us "further! deeper!" And we can know, the dangers that may await us on our journey are dead to us; nothing more than harmless discarded rubbish, rendered ineffective and completely under the authority of the Living God. Our Father.
(Although, the old wagon didn't quite make it to the shore on this trip...)
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