In my own sea of despair, the ocean carries me
Our lives are full of pain—pain of all shapes and sizes—but God’s love endures. God is there like the ocean’s tides, the spring blossoms, and the rising and setting of the sun.
I just got back from an overnight retreat in Long Beach Island at the Maris Stella Retreat Center. Usually, I end up in Aston, PA to visit the nuns at the Franciscan Spiritual Center, but this time, my spiritual director recommended Maris Stella, which happens to be on the beach. I enjoyed my time there very much. Despite how windy and cold it was, I managed to walk along the shore and collect seashells to boot.
Last summer, after years of visiting a lake house, I ended up at the beach and realized I was in love with the ocean. A human made lake and the shore may look similar in some ways: they are both bodies of water with sand. But there’s nothing like the ocean. A human made lake is usually created by damming a tributary, and hauling in sand. But as soon as I stepped foot in the ocean, I felt something different. The tide pulled at my ankles, the water was salty, and I was buoyant. It carried me in a way an artificial lake could never do. When I’m floating in the ocean, submitting to its power—not trying to overtake it but to become one with it—the experience is spiritual. It feels like God carrying me. As the waves crash, it’s as if their chorus worships God.
Sitting on the shore, the wind is audible—yet still feels peaceful. On the lake side, we can hear others’ conversations. It's nice to be together, but it is hardly serene. In contrast, when I’m at the ocean, no matter how crowded it is, the sound of the ocean mutes the surrounding conversations, and I feel almost alone. Alone, and in submission and respect, to the greater power before me. The ocean is connected to the moon. Indeed, it’s the moon’s gravitational pull that causes the tides. We sense mystery and majesty here. The ocean connects me with God. It shows me how small my own life is compared to the greatness of the world, but that does not diminish me. In the magnitude and power of the ocean, I can feel afraid, but as the ocean carries me, I also know God carries me. My boat is so small, God, and the ocean so big.
It’s hard to think you matter in the ocean. We barely think we matter if we’re in a group of 100 people. It’s hard to hold onto the fact that you, yourself, have meaning and significance, and even meaning and significance to God, the creator of the whole universe. It’s hard to get a sense of our own consequence while also holding on to the vastness of the universe.
On the other hand, why wouldn’t I have faith that I am something. I am here. I get to observe the magnitude of creation. I am something and can reflect on my nature. I get to contemplate “what I am,” and even more powerfully, “that I am.”
It’s in the ocean’s greatness that I can feel the Psalmist’s refrain: God’s love endures forever. It’s in the ocean that the tininess of my problems is met with the majesty of God. In the ocean I feel an eschatological transcendence. I submerge my head and my troubles “right size” themselves.
I want to be reassured of God’s enduring love as I face the difficulties—both small and big—in the world around me. God’s love endures forever; God’s love is so big and so long that it can contain my worries. There’s enough love to go around. God can make my small crying out for peace in Gaza matter. God’s love will prevail. Death will not have the final answer. The ocean reminds me of that.
The ocean holding me, carrying me is a deep sign of comfort. But beneath that comfort is power. I submit to and do not resist the power of the ocean lest I drown. The Bible shows us the power of the ocean as it crushes Pharaoh’s army. As we abuse the earth, just a small rise in sea level may crush our coastal cities. The ocean reminds me of God’s power and might. And I want God’s power and might to save me. I want it to transform my enemies and the world.
The enduring love of God that I see in the ocean is the comfort I need in the tide of grief and death that surrounds us. God’s enduring love shows up in new ways all the time. The tides remind me that God’s love will deliver me again. The coming of the cherry blossoms reminds me of this. The setting and rising sun remind me of this. God’s love and deliverance will come. The expected Messiah will return to liberate us.