Breakfast on the Beach: Fishing Naked

Day 3 Breakfast on the Beach…Jekyll Island, GA

Have you ever meditated on a passage of Scripture you’ve read dozens of times before when something “new” jumps out at you? 

 

I love Simon Peter—what a maniac!  Before today I’d never noticed this disciple fished naked.  Read it yourself. John 21:7 says Simon Peter was out in a boat hauling in a massive catch after someone on the shore directed him to throw his net to the other side.  When Peter realized it was resurrected Jesus on the shore, he grabbed his coat and wrapped it around him “for he had stripped”…Now there’s a spirit of adventure!

 

What keeps us from “fishing naked”?  Rather than expose our true selves we seek to clothe our frail humanity in the trappings of life.  We cover ourselves & impute style to our beings via our job, rank/position, bank account, education, intellect, possessions, sports, fitness, personality, fun fixes and yes, even our ministries and self-righteousness.  Or we hide behind fig-leaf remedies of weed, pills, alcohol & inhalants.  Do we truly believe any of these things can alter who we are at any given moment? 

 

I ache to live my life with a Simon Peter kind of abandon…no, not streaking in public, at least not in the physical sense.  But I imagine how different life might be if I braved completely baring myself heart & soul, stripping down, concealing nothing.  How much more could God teach me, show me if everyday I willingly bare myself to Him? How much more could he use me in His Kingdom to bless others were I more transparent & stripped down before them?

 

Acknowledging nakedness—what we are not and what we do not possess—is the first step toward receiving God’s covering.  Through the blood of Jesus Christ we are clothed in righteousness.

Lord, strip away all the funeral garb shrouding my heart, all that conceals me from the truth of my real self–just as you crafted me, all which robs me of vulnerability.  Clothe me in You alone so that all that is seen of me is Jesus.

Breakfast on the Beach: A Call to Feast

Day 2 Breakfast on the Beach, Tybee Island, GA

Tybee Island beckons me to a peaceful morning.  Crashing waves provide background music for my soul, accompanied by a chorus of birds slamming into the ocean in repeated dives for breakfast.  Just as Jesus called a few of His disciples to breakfast on the shore at the Sea of Tiberias following His resurrection {John 21: 1-12}  He called me to this place for breakfast on the beach, a time of respite to nourish my soul, calm my anxious heart, and feed my desire for more of Him.  I sense His presence warming my spirit even as  sun warms my freckled flesh.  Looking out across dark blue vastness, I ponder the depth of waters and am reminded that His love is broader & deeper still. 

 

Waves in my life are pounding again, railing against the shoreline of my personal peace.  Yet the voice of Abba Daddy God gently commands, “Fear not my child.”  Yes, child.  I am His little one, precious in my Daddy’s sight.  He would do anything for me, even send His beloved Son to purchase my healing with stripes…He already has. Now it is up to me to wait & receive from My Daddy,  so strong and powerful, loving and compassionate.  He holds my life—every single breath of it—in His tender hands.  Nothing will befall me without first sifting through those mighty fingers. I find peace in this assurance.

 

A simple conversation between a preschooler and his daddy, pulling him in a bright red wagon through thick sand, interrupts  melodies of high tide.  “I love you Daddy.”  “I love you son”  {giggles}  “Daddy?”  “Yes son?”  “I reeeeeally love you”  {more giggles} “Son?”  “Yes daddy?”  “I reeeeeeally love YOU.”

 

Oh, Abba Daddy God, I love you.  Thank you Daddy that in my spirit I hear your whispers of love for me, too. 

 

“For we have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but we have received the spirit of adoption whereby we cry ABBA, Father.  The spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are the children of God.”  Romans 8:15-16

 

“Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the children of God…”  I John 3:1 

Breakfast on the Beach: In Need of Direction

Breakfast on the  Beach, Day 1 Beaufort, SC & beyond

 

Let the journey begin…though originally destined for Savannah {or so I thought}, my plane landed in Charleston, SC.  I navigated my way through a small baggage claim area, conquered a car rental counter, then pointed my sporty vehicle south to Georgia. 

 

A map would have been helpful…or blinders.  I was delusional in thinking I could traverse Charleston to Savannah without getting distracted.  The Colorado blizzard I abandoned quickly faded to a bad memory as bright colors and Southern sunshine greeted me.  Green screamed at me…trees, shrubs, lawns all reminded me that it really IS spring!  Spanish moss danced on every tree.  Azalea bushes the size of my old Russian boxcar turned my head at the speed of whiplash.  Charming communities in abundance dotted landscapes and avenues teemed with locals soaking up warm rays.  In stepping out of my cave…a 50-seater Regional Jet… I’d emerged from lengthy hibernation.  With senses overloaded and I persuaded myself to slow down and soak in the beauty.  I am embarrassed to admit that I cannot even journal where I’ve been so far because I have no clue…country roads and back highways led me to sunset and growing darkness.  Despite my desire to wake up next to a Georgia coastline my first morning in the south, exhaustion overtook and I settled in at Beaufort, SC.  Tired of driving around lost, I discovered a B & B too inviting to be missed.   

 

I awoke this morning to the scent of freshly baked goods tantalizing my nostrils.  Stepping out into the salty ocean air, I sensed something divine awaited.  The weather is cooler than expected but still nothing compared to the bone chill I left behind out west.  Does my countenance of elation betray me as a tourist?  Probably.  I strolled waterfront walkways of this sleepy town, a stupid grin across my face.  Though I invited the Lord to speak, my mind’s racing stunted any ability to receive His words.  Instead, I wandered aimlessly about, embraced His magnificent outdoor art gallery and found myself repeatedly exclaiming, “Nice job, God!” 

 

Eventually, I was again discovering the joys of 2 lane roads leading me in circles.  I lost count of how many times I asked kind strangers…and one very realistic looking fire station dummy with his back to me…for directions, often berating myself for not claiming a map at Charleston’s Tourist Info Center.  No matter, I am on an adventure…getting lost comes with the territory. Right? Somehow I navigated to a private entrance of Fripp Island where a grazing deer greeted me, and a security guard questioned me before grinning and allowing passage for a brief detour. Though I felt mostly like an adult poster child for A.D.D., in my saner moments I began to purpose in my mind to return to the highway in order to arrive at Tybee Island tonight.  And so I have…don’t ask me how…I couldn’t tell you.  All I know is through a weathered, open door of my balcony at this quaint Victorian Inn, I hear the faint lull of ocean waves. Tomorrow morning when I awaken I plan to follow the sound until I squish wet sand between my toes.