Sunday Morning at the Beach

Last Sunday morning at the beach was a beautiful time. I got up early and went out to the edge of the water. I ended up walking down the shore quite a ways just marveling and the majesty of the ocean and thinking about its Creator.

A song I learned at VBS as a child kept running through my head:

“In the stars His handiwork I see.

On the wind He speaks with majesty.

He is ruler over land and sea.

What is that to me?

“I will celebrate nativity.

For it has its place in history.

Sure, He came to set His people free.

What is that to me?

“Till the day I met Him face to face.

And I saw the wonder of His grace.

Then I knew that He was more than just

A God who didn’t care Who lived away up there.

And

Now He walks beside me day by day.

Ever watching o’er me lest I stray.

He’s everything to me.”

This song was my praise song for my Savior. It also reminded me of those who know about the Lord but who don’t understand the relationship and the grace He offers—like so many people in Guatemala.

Oh how I long for people to know the hope and grace that I experience daily! How can anyone go through this life without them?

My joy in my Savior welled up inside of me and manifested itself in—those of you who know me well may have guessed it—dancing. There I was twirling and skipping and pulling out all the ballet moves I could remember right there on the beach. I didn’t care who saw. I was praising my Lord and having a marvelous time doing so.

For a while, the dancing was mixed in with some pensive walking. I suppose this behavior eventually piqued the interest of a young Guatemalan guy so much so that he was curious enough to come talk to me. It went like this:

Him: Que haces? (What are you doing?)

Me [not sure how to explain it]: Estoy orando. (I’m praying)

Him: A Dios? (to God?)

Me: Si (Yes)

Him: Evangelical? (Protestant?)

Me: Si (Yes)

Him: De donde eres? (Where are you from?)

Me: Los Estados Unidos (The United States)

We exchanged names, and then he bid me farewell and left me to my praising. I found it kinda interesting that when I said I was praying, He assumed I was Protestant. Perhaps he figured Catholics don’t have a habit of praying with their whole bodies on Sunday morning at the beach. Then again, neither do I. I hope little encounters like this encourage people to think about spiritual things. Praising God and talking to Him are not reserved for church buildings.