A beach exists because the waves continually wash over it, building it and eroding it. The beach is never finished; it is always in progress, and always in flux. For a great majority of the time, the weather is fair and the waves are gentle as the tides come in and go out, and the waves ebb and flow. The waves are soothing and restful, slowly building the beach by depositing new sediments or gently eroding it, reshaping and forming the beach. Changes are gradual; some new sand and gravel and shells in one area, now a bit higher, while another area erodes and is a bit lower. Such changes are noticed only by the most observant, those familiar with the beach, who know it well. But with time, waves change the beach.
Other times powerful waves driven by storms, hurricanes or tsunamis violently molest the beach. Changes are sudden, dramatic, and sometimes, devastating. Entire portions of the beach may be washed away, while others are enlarged. Such changes are observed readily.
I enjoy beaches, especially making sand castles. I can work on one for hours, building the fortress, digging the moat, adding towers and outer walls. But no matter how ornate the castle is, the waves will reclaim it, always. No sand castle can ever stand against the power of even gentle waves as the tide comes. The castle dissolves and washes away, bit by bit.
The Word and work of God is much like this in our lives. September 17, 1983 was a tsunami event in my life, as the Holy Spirit used the Word and circumstances to convict me of my sin and unrighteous life. The circumstance was bizarre, a friend told me a movie paralleled my life. So I went by myself to a Saturday afternoon matinee. In a nearly empty theater, it was a miracle not unlike Balaam's donkey speaking that God used "Staying Alive" to reveal my heart to me. As in Hebrews 4:12, the Word of God was like a double-edged sword, quick and powerful, cutting to the point of my hypocrisy. I was brought to my knees, weeping between the seats in the theater, broken and painfully aware of my previous attempts to live a double life; loving God while loving the world and my sin at the same time. I was broken spiritually by the power of the waves of conviction. As Paul notes (2 Cor 7:10), I had two options, two possible responses. I could be overwhelmed with worldly sorrow and guilt leading to death, or I could become sorrowful as God intended. Godly sorrow brings repentance and salvation and leaves no regret, no guilt. By God’s grace, I came to repentance. I was transformed painfully, quickly, dramatically and drastically. When I left that place, I was a different person, as anyone who took the time to observe could testify. (Many did not notice - they already had me in a box, and were not expecting, nor looking for, me to change.)
This event has been the exception to the typical way God works in my life. I have had a few other major storms that led to rapid conviction and major changes, but most of the time, God uses His Word like gentle waves. Paul notes (2 Tim 3:16-17) that all Scripture is God-breathed, and useful for teaching and instruction, reproof and rebuke, correction, and training in righteousness. As I read the Bible, and pray, and meditate on the words, God is often gentle with me, gradually changing and building and shaping me. Though these processes are much slower, I am changed, nonetheless.
Such changes come only from exposure to the Word of God, and especially with meditation. As we allow the Word of God to wash gently and continually over us, we are transformed by the renewing of our minds (Rom 12:1-2). The waves of our meditations constantly erode our sand castles, the work of our hands we worship, our version of broken cisterns (Jer 2:13). May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer (Ps 19:14). (April 30 and May 4, 2011, Clay Robinson)
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