Every breaking wave on the shore
Tells the next one there’ll be one more
And every gambler knows that to lose
Is what you’re really there for.–U2, “Every Breaking Wave”

Another year, another set of musings from my beach chair. Forgive the typos.

The last year to eighteen months has been tough. I know, all ‘first world’ problems. But whether it’s the loss of Grandma and others who we love, the vertigo diagnosis and the rash of other physical reactions, the stress of a job change, the host of home improvement costs, the sense of ongoing frustrations and loss has been, at times, overwhelming.

And yet… here at the beach, the waves keep coming. One at a time, breaking on the shore, coming in and out with the tide. Like clockwork. Beautiful and terrible, they crash on the beach.

And I’m reminded that the beach doesn’t really change. (Put erosion aside momentarily.) The ocean rises and falls, the sand remains, the presence of the excessive expanse of water that stretches on forever as far as the eye can see.

With all of the other things that have happened, the ocean reminds me of the things which have existed since God created them, the way that God’s rule and power still exist beyond the touch of loss, sickness, stress, worry, pain, and more.

The ocean is bigger than anything I can imagine, and God is even bigger than that.