“You up for a cold swim?” my friend asked, her green eyes sparkling.
This was an invitation I’d rather not have accepted, considering I was visiting her in the middle of winter in Australia. “Sure,” I responded, completely dreading the cold that would be thrust upon me. My eyes scanned the creamy sand and driftwood and noticed the beach was completely empty—void of crowds, surfers, and warm waters. So I gathered up my courage, trailed behind my fearless friend, and immersed myself into the icy waters. I was immediately overwhelmed by the rolling waves splashing up against me. It was so frigid, and I tried to catch my breath as we laughed our way into the Tasman Sea.
Ever since we arrived stateside for our first furlough a few months ago, I have found myself struggling to balance the challenging season we’ve walked out of and the season of transition we’ve entered into. Straddling this tension while trying to adapt to a new place, pivot unforeseen circumstances, and tend to my heart has left me feeling utterly depleted in many areas of life.
And yet, God is so gracious and so good in the middle of this uncomfortable place.
So good that I was gifted this treasure of a trip to visit a dear friend who used to live near me in Northern Uganda. A friend who walked with me through the harrowing places and has known the challenges of living and serving overseas. A friend who has the gift of incorporating whimsy and wonder in her life in such a contagious way.
The moment I stepped into her home, I could feel the peace and presence of something familiar. Her back porch was a feast for my eyes. It was filled with macrame wall hangings made with driftwood procured from nearby beaches, thrifted pots with plants spilling out like little waterfalls of green, a collection of old bottles holding succulents of all colors, shells of pastel hues sitting in a bowl on display, and fairy lights twinkling as another beautiful evening drew to a close.
One morning, we woke up before the crack of dawn; the crisp air bit at my face as we climbed into the car. I’m not a morning person, but the offer to search for kangaroos in the neighboring pasturelands and watch the sun rise from the riverfront was too intriguing for me to refuse. However, instead of stopping by the river, we kept driving until we discovered a beach new to the both of us. We marveled at the small mob of kangaroos hopping on the shore and watched as the sun began to emerge from a sky filled with brooding clouds.
Unbeknownst to us, we had stumbled upon a beach with basalt pillows formed from molten lava. The most striking thing, as we stood on these porous black rocks, were the intertidal basalt reefs teeming with ocean life. In between the cracks and brokenness were habitats for coral, snails, little fish, and a variety of pink- and teal-colored sea plants. With the smell of the sea, waves billowing, and morning sun reflecting gloriously on the pools of water, I couldn’t help but stand in awe of being surrounded by the Lord’s handiwork.
Hallelujah, Praise the Lord.
Psalm 40:5 also speaks to the wonders of our Heavenly Father. Though, not those displayed across the sky or deep in the sea, but in the orchestration and testimony of his goodness in our lives.
“Many, Lord my God,
are the wonders you have done,
the things you planned for us.
None can compare with you;
were I to speak and tell of your deeds,
they would be too many to declare.” (NIV)
As we walked back to the car, I noticed a hearty shrub of bottlebrush in full bloom. Its striking flowers stood out against the wild grasses and sandy shore. I discovered they bloom in summer but can sometimes bloom in Australia’s winter months too. Many species are also fire-resistant and can grow new shoots from buds safely hidden within their sturdy bark. How wonderful to see the care the Lord took in creating this shrub to flourish despite harsh circumstances.
And how much more, does he care for me and for you?
Even now, as I’m soaking up the beauty of serene beaches, sharing a mug of tea with a close friend, creating art until midnight, and thrifting for Australian treasures to take home, the Lord is speaking deeply to the weary places of my weather-worn heart. He never promised there wouldn’t be fires or winter seasons, but he has promised I will walk through them with him.
With him, we are resilient and will overcome.
With him, our brokenness can produce new life.
With him, the hardest season can be made joy-filled.
My confidence is not rooted in how well I am thriving in winter or in the fire, but in knowing that the Lord is with me. When I’m feeling lost in a season of transition, I am still invited to come, see, and to declare his good deeds. There are glimpses of his goodness all around, no matter where I am. When waves tremble and threaten to toss me, my heart holds fast to the One who is unfailing in his faithfulness. And while I don’t have answers to all my questions, I know there are everyday hallelujahs waiting to be found along the way.
In the joy and in the pain, he is truly worthy to be praised.
How can you take notice of everyday blessings, even in the difficult seasons? How can we use wonder as a way to practice trusting the Lord?
