I do it a lot. Act like God is not with me. I get myself in wads and then whine, complain, quit or cope. Instead of simply turning to Them and asking for truth, or help, or just understanding.
I don’t simply stop very often.
But yesterday I did. The wind was blowing fierce on the beach and I sat beside a storage shed to get some shelter. As I was sitting there, I started running my fingers through the white, sugar-like sand. I realized, though, I was still running the autopilot list in my head of stuff to process, fix and resolve.
It was a paradox. Child-like playing in the sand. Grown up stressing in my head. And the Lord asked me, “Write in the sand.”
“What should I write?” I asked.
“How about all that stuff in your head?” (Yes of course He already knows it.) So I wrote out a short list of the needs I had.
“Great. I got all that. Now wipe that away.”
One movement of my hand, it was erased.
“Now, do it again.”
This went on for several lists. Physical needs, material needs. People I was praying for, events coming up. Each time, the reassurance came that He had this taken care of, each time came the instruction to wipe it away.
Then there was a quiet calm. As I sat there for a few minutes and JUST played in the sand, two powerful things happened. One was a simple reflection. Wonder what I wrote last year? He had indeed wiped all those things away. He had over time resolved, provided, and advanced each the issues that pressured me last year. Would this year be any different?
The second thing was a very, very real awareness of His presence. As I played, the wind lifted and shifted the sand smoothing and scattering my doodles. I looked to my right, and the wind was lifting and shifting other little mounds of sand.
“I like playing in the sand too.”
Sometimes you have to stop the noise to hear the roar of the ocean. Sometimes you have to sit and play to remember that you are His child. Sometimes you have to give stuff to Him and let Him blow away all the distractions and just be with Him.
Oh to sit in the delight of the One who thinks of us, more than the grains of the sand.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.