FIND A “THINKING STATION”!

 

Sunday, April 7, 2024

A “classic” from long ago.

 

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. 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 station” 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 at 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. 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 long standing, help me to see the truth clearly and to choose truth. AMEN