The best thing about the winter (for me) is that the sun rises at a more respectable hour! Normal weekdays include driving my wife to work, followed by a detour to the beach for half an hour or so. It’s a great way to “set the compass” for the whole day. Crunching over the pebbles to walk on the flat sand puts me in a good place. The sea is always different, the clouds sculpt patterns of light and shade. Light bursts in on the remnants of dreams as the Sun forces attention to its brightness- it cannot be ignored.
Some mornings carry the soft breath of kind, clean air that strokes the waves and fills the lungs with freshness.
Other days are ripped to shreds as the storm-winds bully the coast.
This was one of the gentle days. Cool, with an advancing tide erasing the sand tracks of man and beast, and with a salt tang in the breeze, I spent time watching and walking, thinking and praying.
A time of peace. I noticed a sense of calm swiftly replaced the packaged woe of the breakfast News. The tantrums of politicians and the trivial clutter of the news cycle drained away; instead I could concentrate on a new beginning, a fresh day of opportunity, with the realisation that Jesus “walked” the beach with me. It was not a “God blessed me moment” so much as an invitation to recognise He was present, and, if I so chose, He would allow me to walk alongside and wonder at the sights and sounds of the best of the morning. I was welcome to share creation’s love-song.
It washed my soul with clean peace.
After a while, I found myself singing the words of an early Graham Kendrick song:
Footsteps on the sea, nets upon the sand
Seabirds flying free, the sower sows his land
I was only singing songs of billowed sails and sea
Mending nets on yellow sand when my brother said to me:‘See who walks the shore, yonder by the tree
One who walks so tall, a preacher-man is he’
I was only singing songs of billowed sails and sea
Mending nets on yellow sand when he came up to meEyes that bore the sea a thousand ages old
Fixed their gaze on me, a thousand tales were told
Later on the tide came in and washed my nets away
And shadows long heard a fisherman’s song
But my bed it empty layMmm, mmm, mmm, mmm
I was only singing songs of billowed sails and sea
Graham Kendrick
Mending nets on yellow sand when he said: ‘Follow me’.
Copyright © 1972 John T Benson Publishing Co
It was truly the best of the morning. It was a foundation for a day of purpose. Like Simon and Andrew, the two friends the song was about, I had looked into the “Eyes that bore the sea a thousand ages old, that fixed their gaze on me, a thousand tales were told… he said: ‘Follow me’.“
What day could begin better?
In the morning, O LORD, hear my voice. In the morning I lay my needs in front of You, and I wait. – Psalm 5 v3
The Reflectionary 