FIND
A THINKING STATION!
James
1:6
For
he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.
Isa
57:20
20
But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters
cast up mire and dirt.
I lived near the Chesapeake for about
nine years.
It was a singular blessing because of the geography and the faithful rotation
of four very definite seasons. One could always tell whether it was spring,
summer, fall or winter. You didn’t even have to ask, you just knew.
Because there was water, pronounced
“wooter” by the locals, all around us there was ample opportunity to observe
the waves driven by the wind and tossed. Calvert, pronounced “Culvert” by the
locals, was nine miles wide at its widest point. Bounded on the west by the
Patuxent River and on the east by the magnificent Chesapeake, one could not
become truly lost on the neck of land that was our county. All you had to do
was drive till you found water and then turn around. Eventually you would once
again find state route 4 which, if you travelled far enough north would become
Pennsylvania Avenue after you crossed the D.C. line.
But if you could not easily become lost on the
peninsula neither could you easily escape and escape was desirable from time to
time. The Baptist church I pastored was twice removed from Methodism. The
Methodist church had split and formed the Bible Church. Later the Bible Church
had split and formed the First Baptist Church. It lounged alongside Maryland
route 4 just about mid way between north and south. It was not always
comfortable living in such a rich tradition and being from anywhere else. After
nine years, I left the county still a newcomer.
Change was stubbornly resisted in
Calvert County.
Why, the first day we were there we saw bumper stickers that read: “Keep
Calvert Country!” At first I thought the county had been offered to someone who
had summarily refused the gift! It didn’t take long to realize that the locals
thought their county to be perfect just like it was. They had successfully
blocked the construction of a Wal-mart along with the sprawling blight it might
bring but later failed to stop McDonald’s from building near the elementary
school. Predictions of riot and ruin, of traffic congestion and teen violence
accompanied the new golden arches.
Every now and then I simply needed to
escape!
I soon located several “thinking stations” along the abundant shores where I
could be alone with God. One such “listening stations” was along the Patuxent,
another at the Cove Point Lighthouse, and yet another at the southernmost tip
at the sea wall of Solomon’s Island. I would go to observe the mood of the
“wooter”!
I often marveled how the waters spoke to
me.
Sometimes they whispered as they foamed along the sand and at other times they
shouted as they sprayed and splashed over the sea wall but they always talked
to me. Very often the waters mirrored my own mood and sometimes they offered an
alternate perspective. The waters provided both affirmation and stern advice
and I never knew which I would receive – nor which I needed. Sometimes the
waters and I would simply enjoy each other’s company as we both laughed while the
water tickled my feet. At other times the waters cried her salty tears and
mingled them with my own. I sometimes miss the waters. I know she is still
there.
It is amazing that people,
when confronted with undeniable truth, will measure that truth by their
tradition and choose tradition every time.
It is God’s desire that … we
henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every
wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they
lie in wait to deceive; But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in
all things, which is the head, even Christ: Eph 4:14-15
Dear
Lord, although my traditions may be rich and of long standing, help me to see
the truth clearly and to choose truth. AMEN
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