I Saw…

Grandpa used to say a silly little limerick to us as kids “I see said the blind man to his deaf wife, as he picked up his hammer and saw.”

St. John tells us that the Angel said to him, LOOK, and I turned and I saw…
 

I am at the ocean today and all this past week.  Anyone that knows me knows that I love the ocean.  I sat on the Rock that I always sit on and I listened again.  It seems like it would be easy to swim out and reach the Horizon.  It’s not that far away really, it is really just right there.  The problem is that when you go looking for something you aren’t satisfied with the object of your first glance.  The further you go the further the Horizon is to you.  It moves away from you.  That’s what I saw as I looked at it from that Rock.
 

I looked at the Seals in the ocean; they peek out of the water and float like a bobber on the top of a small wave.  They dive directly into the big waves, not sure why I can’t see what they're doing.  Similar dilemma with the birds:  they float, they fly, they dive, they always eat.  They seem to be right where they want to be.  But they are still short of the Horizon by a long shot.  It’s like they have no clue what is out there for them.  I do. 
 

Walk with me for a minute along the shore.  It's easier to walk on the sand that has been washed by the ocean.  There’s that line where the tide has soaked the ground and made the normally loose sand more firm.  But the closer you get and the easier it is to walk the more imminent the potential danger “Rip Tides” the signs warn “NO LIFEGUARD.”  It’s the most dangerous place near the edge.   As I walk further from the shoreline the sand is dry and harder to walk in.  But you can smell that ocean so clean, and so self-sufficient.  It contains all that it needs to survive and to thrive.  The closer that I walk to the ocean, the more firm and solid my footsteps become and my feet don’t sink and slide back as I try to walk.
 

So that’s the beach, that’s the shoreline, but the goal is always the Horizon.  I want to reach that.  Not by plane or boat, or some other form of transportation, but me, I want to reach it.  It can’t really move.  It doesn’t really get further as I move toward it.  It just makes no sense.  That edge is where I need to be, and I will reach it.
 

Looking down from the Rock, and having been sitting here for about one hour, and listening to the crashing tide hitting the base of the Rock.  The Rock never moves, it is so incredible to sit on it and look out at that Horizon.  But back to the tide, listen to the sound of the tide when you are here.  It always sounds the same but never the same.  The sound is great.  The smell is just as good, salty, fishy, sandy, and full of clean oxygen.  Man, you can really breathe out here.  The sound and the smell are great but you can’t get over the feel of that tide as the waves crash on the Rock.  A mist, almost imperceptible, cools your face and any exposed skin on your body.  For me it’s typically my face, neck and arms.  Never really on the small of my back, that would be weird.  Sound, smell, feel, it nearly transports me from the Rock to that Horizon. 
 

Then I looked down and I saw the Tide from the Rock.  It was hitting the Rock but not angrily rather like it was saying “We’re together like we always have been.”  See, Creation is all about God, it is NOT God, but it proves God, His glory, His power, His beauty, His sweetness, His very character to the extent we can see it.
 

And for what seemed like the first time I Saw the Horizon in the Tide.  It doesn’t move away, It comes to us if we are on the Rock and it speaks to us, and breathes with us and touches our face and neck.