Getting my feet wet.

God speaks to me in many ways. Through scriptures, through readings and sermons, through experiences, through revelation of the heart and mind; the still small voice speaks in many dialects of life. But my favorite by far, is the simple unveiled whisper. The quiet thought that fills the heart without overwhelming it or frightening human reason into full scale rebellion. Yesterday He did just that.

I arrived at the beach that morning and sat down in my favorite spot. I took off my shoes and breathed deep, taking in the beauty of the morning. Then I did my readings and prayed. But I was late and so the whole time I was acutely aware of minutes passing. My mind began to berate me for all the time I had wasted over the weekend. I had had an enormous amount if time to myself on account of Michael having two shows in Fullerton. But rather than spend it writing I had occupied my time cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, watching tv; in short everything but writing. In the midst of wringing my thoughts out over this failure, I began to chide myself for not focusing this time on God. And for the next few minutes I alternated from agonizing over the time that I was losing right then to mental punishment over time I had already wasted. Drowning in all this self imposed condemnation, I suppose He took pity on me.

"Come down to edge of the water." He spoke. It was as if He was already there and was beckoning me to Him.

I stood up and began to make my way to the edge of the water. The whole time I was walking down my mind was still racing. "What if my feet get caked with the wet sand? I left my towel in the car, how will i clean them off? What if my feet get wet? I've only got about 5 minutes before I have to leave. What can God possibly teach me in 5 minutes? That's hardly enough time." I paused long enough to roll up my pant legs and then arrived at the water's edge with all these thoughts still ringing in my head like whining children. 

A surge of water came toward me and almost instinctively I ran back, but it was too quick. The chill of ocean water swirled around my feet and I let out squeal of delight. The water withdrew only to come again higher, covering my ankles and rising high enough to dampen my rolled up pant legs. I laughed and hopped around as I tried to outrun the sea. In the thrill of my laughter I heard Him again...

"You see," He said, "you always run from Me, but when you let Me catch you, it is always Joy."

It took Him less than three of those five minute to show me the foolishness of my ways. The other two I spent playing in the water. 

It is time to stop running from what He is calling me to do. There is simply no sense in running from Joy.

"Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head." John 13:9