Don't Forget About the Ocean

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I stood on the edge to see what I could see. Told my heart to never forget Your Spirit birthed in me”

When Eva was two, we went on a beach vacation. Weeks before the trip, the whole family told her about the ocean. “It’s the biggest swimming pool ever!” Maddy informed her. “The waves are awesome!” Ethan explained. The entire drive to the coast, we regaled her with tales of the sea. She was primed for big water.

After checking into the twenty-five-story beachfront condo, we immediately went out onto our balcony eighteen stories up to finally show Eva the unending body of water. Her eyes took it in and she finally understood. The ocean is big.

If you have been on a beach vacation with small children, then you know it can easily take an hour from the moment you decide to go swimming to the moment you actually leave the condo. Especially if you have Anglo-Saxon skin. The process seems endless: putting on bathing suits, gathering boogie boards, collecting towels, selecting beach toys, packing the cooler, and lathering sunscreen on in generous amounts upon every surface that could even possibly see a moment of sun and few spots that shouldn’t, just in case.

Along the way, the kids become almost unbearable. Their understanding of “be patient” is waiting three minutes between asking, “When are we going to the beach?”

While we prepared, Eva got caught up in her older brother and sister’s euphoric expectation. The kids would run to the balcony and look at the “osen,” as Eva called it, and laugh. Then Ethan would exclaim he was going to ride the biggest wave on his boogie board which he carried everywhere. Then they would come find us to ask, “Aren’t we ready yet?” and “Can we go now?”

Waiting is so hard.

Finally, everyone lathered in sunscreen, towels accounted for, flip-flops on, we headed for the door. I did a head count and found that Eva was not among us. I called for her. “Eva, let’s go swim in the osen! Eva?” There was no response. I walked through the condo and finally found her naked in the master bathroom trying to get into the tub.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Mmm, take a baff, Daddy,” she said.

“What about the ocean?”

My daughter, tired of waiting, and upon seeing the bathtub, forgot about the ocean. She was more than willing to trade the ocean she had not experienced for the familiarity of the tub.

Suddenly my Father spoke to my heart and said, “Jason, the promises I have for you are the size of the ocean. Don’t get distracted by bathtubs.”

The moral of this story? Not all water is created equal. Don’t let the bathtub distract you. Gods promises are as big as the ocean. His promises are astounding; a greater works adventure, a one of a kind expression of His love revealed to and through us.

I pray grace and hope as you lean into your ocean promises. And may the world be forever changed because of your faith.


Jason Clark
is a writer, speaker and lead communicator at A Family Story ministries. His mission is to encourage sons and daughters to grow sure in the love of an always-good heavenly Father. He and his wife, Karen, live in North Carolina with their three children.

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

YOU ALSO MIGHT LIKE…

A Name Like Honey

This isn’t a breakup book, it’s an expression of our friendship. And an expression of His great affection for you. I wrote in the context of my ever-expanding friendship with Jesus so you might further know Greater Love.

KAREN SWALLOW PRIOR / LIFE, LITERATURE, & GOD

Karen Swallow Prior is a Reader, Writer, and Professor. In that order, which was discussed in this conversation along with the power of language, the Word becoming flesh, the connection of imagination with logic and reason, empathy, trauma, the theodicy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and love being the center of our conversations. Karen also shares about getting hit by a literal bus and how she grew in her understanding that her life is in God’s hands.

Donald Trump, Politics, and the Church

I have witnessed the church, my brothers and sisters on both sides of an American aisle that doesn’t exist in heaven, go to war with one another on behalf of their devotion ‘for or against’ a politician.

Look Up & Let Go

Grand Central Station. Spring, 1993. Late afternoon. “I’m here,” I thought.“Don’t look up and don’t let go of your bag,” raced through my head.

How to Read the Bible (Part 1)

Jesus is my lens, my true narrative. His perfect love is my conviction. His goodness is my faith. Every question I have, every relationship or circumstance, every scripture, including the tension Job represents, is measured against the measureless revelation of Jesus.

ADDISON BEVERE / SAINTS, BECOMING MORE THAN CHRISTIANS

Identity, union, searching scripture through the lens of Jesus, and holiness discovered through community, Addison brilliantly describes that we are beloved saints.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This

Share This

Share this post with your friends!