Jumping over shadows

Today's post is part of the Blog Carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley, topic, JOY. Click through to her site for some great posts.

“I honestly think the beach is the only place children actually entertain themselves.”

--Donna McLavy

He alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea.

--Job 9:8

Here in Daytona Beach, modesty is not one of our spiritual gifts. Spring Break 2010 is over, but the world’s most famous beach still plays host to a sea of partially dressed humanity. The sand is hard packed here; cars weave freely in and out of sunbathers smearing sunscreen on each other’s shoulders. Waves colliding with sand is a part of our rhythm of life in Florida.

Friday I joined forces with my friend and colleague, Michael McCrory, for a little beach walk. A thirty-mile toddle, from Ponce Inlet, north, to Flagler Beach … thirty miles? What the HECK were we think’n …

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Post trip observations:

Retirees own the beach around sunrise. I guess all the young pups are getting ready for work, nursing hangovers, or both.

If you want to collect seashells, get to the beach early. Small armies of seashell hunters storm the beach like viking invaders and grab the best formed shells within the first few hours of sunlight. McCrory found a nice sand dollar, but it fractured, like the bones in our feet, by the end of our death march.

Arm tattoos, the kind that look like shirtsleeves, are getting popular with twenty-something women. I noticed the trend in San Francisco last month, but I thought it might be a West Coast thing … guess not. I wonder what those tattoos are going to look like when those young ladies get that flabby-arm-thing some grandmothers get.

Families are a huge contingent on the beach. What stood out most Friday is how much joy parents get from watching their children play. Kids never stop smiling as they jump over waves with their arms straight up in the air or roll themselves up in blankets of sand.

The beach has a spellbinding effect on children. Laughing children have a spellbinding effect on parents.

The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. -- Romans 8:16

Near the end of our walk, somewhere near mile twenty-five, the beach cleared, and I had a moment to stop and face the windy Atlantic alone. Long shadows from sea oats and saw palmetto mingled with my own shadow.

God, who am I that you should love me? I have done so much wrong. I have hurt others. I have shamed myself and my family. How can you possibly love me?

His answer was clear as waves crashed nearby: Rusty, I love you. I have always loved you. Like those children dancing in the sea today, you belong to me, you are precious to me.

And, it is true. God loves you that much, too.

... Father, thank you for the sea. Thank you for the beach. And, thank you for our children. Father, be with us and those we love. In Jesus name we pray ...

Battlefield

The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic. - Joseph Stalin

Daytona Beach is a battleground. Some other places, not so much.

Over Labor Day weekend I spoke with a former Amish woman and her husband at a home church in the North Country of Upstate, New York. As we sang hymns and prayed on a back porch, the men wore jackets and some of the women hung blankets over their shoulders to stay warm. The leaves there are just starting to turn. Near the end of the gathering some of us took communion.

The couple I spoke with told me that not many people in that part of the country are interested in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Even with persistent economic troubles, their lives seem comfortable in a Norman Rockwell kind of way. It is almost like, ‘Who needs Jesus in such a quiet and peaceful place.’

East Central Florida is different things to different people, but few would describe it as quiet or peaceful. – Although, street signs, bumper stickers and t-shirts announce Jesus almost everywhere you go, out of the schools each year we produce a robust cohort of drug addicts and young people willing to trade their bodies for drugs. There is at least one story of a person being snatched from a public place and raped every twelve months. We even had our very own serial killer just a few years ago. – When people on the street in Daytona Beach talk about needing Jesus, they are not kidding.

We have a lot of Jesus here, because we need a lot of Jesus.

Saturday we laid-to-rest my friend’s son Garrett. He probably died from a drug overdose or at least medical complications brought on by his struggle with addiction. Tuesday, between sessions with clients, I sat in my office and wept. I hear a good share of difficult stories, but Garrett’s death hit me hard, it became personal, maybe because I have two boys and I’m afraid for them.

Jesus spent a lot of his time on earth with ‘sinners’ like addicts and prostitutes. He came to them with a heart full of love, understanding, and compassion.

Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick . . . For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." Matthew 9:12-13

There is no doubt in my mind that people in the North Country experience heartache and have their own brand of troubles. I know Jesus is there, too. But, His presence is more overt down here in Daytona, where the battlefield is active . . . where Evil and Good both stare you in the face . . . where broken spirits are mended by a Savior who refuses to forget us.

. . . Father, we praise You for being a God who loves us. In our pain we felt Your love so acutely this last week. Thank you for the gift of Garrett, we remember worshiping You with him by our side. His love for You was so transparent and obvious. Be with us Father as we move forward, as we close ranks where Garrett once stood and continue to march forward in love and compassion for those around us. You are our God and we praise you. In Jesus name . . .