A Day at the Beach

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.  But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.  That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord.  Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do. (James 1:5-8 NIV)

In my adulthood, a trip to the beach is a special treat reserved for a week in the summertime, but growing up the child of missionaries on an island in the South Pacific, a trip to the beach was a weekly occurrence.  After homeschool every Monday, we would load up our white Greenbriar Van with the horizontal red stripe and the Matthews' Toyota Land Rover and with joyful chatter we would navigate our way over the roller-coaster, unpaved roads to the beach.  The closer we got, the deeper the craters left by the torrential tropical rains.  We laughed hilariously as we were jostled up, down, and all around in the writhing cars.  The last stretch of the road twisted and lurched through a grove of tall, stately coconut palms, through which we craned our necks to catch the first breathtaking glimpse of the sapphire blue of the ocean horizon.  When the cars came to rest, parked under the palms at the top of the black sandy beach, already dressed in our swimwear, we tumbled out eagerly, grabbed our inner tubes, and raced gingerly over the hot dry sand to run with glee on the cooler moist sand at the water's edge.  We stood in the surf with the ocean lapping at our ankles, pulling the sand out from under our heels and toes, beckoning us into its pleasures.  We weren't allowed to make the plunge until our fathers were ready to go with us.  First they had to carry the ice chests to the bamboo hut shelters where our mothers would prepare our cookout supper as they oversaw our play from a distance.  Then with inner tubes around our middles, we waddled splashing and shrieking into the cool water until the first swell of ocean wave picked us up.  I can still feel my breath catch in my chest as I was lifted into the arms of the ocean.

We floated up and down, always looking toward the horizon for the next gentle wave, screaming with delight as it carried us.  Oh, we would glance back toward the beach to see if our moms were watching our fun, but we did not take our eyes off the billows for long, because every now and then a wave would break before it reached us.  When that happened, we could do nothing but take a deep breath and hold it as the swirling water tumbled over our heads, tossing us out of our inner tubes, twisting and turning us like a handkerchief in a washing machine.  Usually I floated easily to the surface, spluttering and laughing as I retrieved my inner tube, but I remember vividly the times when the terrible force of the tempest tossed me longer than my lungs could endure.  In panic I would kick my feet seeking air, only to find that I was pushing myself down toward the ocean floor rather than up into the atmosphere.  Realizing my confusion, I would push hard against the sandy bottom and kick my feet to burst out of the foamy water, hungrily gulping for oxygen. 

That panic, that confusion is what comes to mind when I read that "the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind".  To ask for God's wisdom, but doubt His faithful answer is to find myself twisted and turning and so discombobulated that I end up bumping my head on the ocean floor.  Do I really have to find the bottom before I can get my bearing to push back to the surface of His faithful provision?  Why do I doubt Him when Scripture already confirms that, "If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (James 1:5 NIV)". Doesn't that mean that if I ask for wisdom, I will get wisdom?  But a friend of mine pointed out that it probably does not mean that I get to decide whether or not I want to accept the wisdom when it comes.  She urged that if I ask for wisdom it is with the predisposition to obey whatever wisdom demands.  Otherwise, I will find myself swirling in the ocean waves of confusion.  God is Faithful.  I can rest in Him like I used to float in the inner tube on the ocean swells.

We played in the water until our fingers and toes had turned prunish and our swimsuits were full of salty sand.  Then we dragged our inner tubes up the beach to the bamboo huts to eat hamburgers and hot dogs roasted over an open flame.  No more shrieks and screams as we sat around the picnic table listening to the stories of our missionary parents' experiences in the barrio.  We sat wrapped in warm dry towels, with our heads rested on our arms until our eyelids grew heavy and we drifted into quiet slumber.  I don't remember much about the trips home from the beach.  I don't remember being jostled through the craterous holes.  I was resting peacefully in my parents' loving care.

Surely God's gift of wisdom, when I submit to receive it, brings a peace even greater than a day at the beach.