Saturday, August 2, 1997

God and you can weather the storms together

By Joy Thompson / Knight-Ridder Newspapers

An interesting thing happened the other day at work. A reader had left me a voice mail message about one of my columns that she had just read and enjoyed. It was titled, "Time to return to the beach." I had written it three years ago when I was the Long Beach Press-Telegram religion editor.

I'm not sure how she recently came across this column (she left a name but no number). Perhaps she had put it away and just felt like reading it again. Maybe a friend had passed it on to her. Either way, I want to thank Ms. Jones for bringing this column to mind, because, in my own life recently I've been feeling exactly that way: That, spiritually speaking, it is time to return to the beach.

Ms. Jones said she thought it would be nice to see the column in the newspaper again. And I thought, why not. I'm sure that there are some readers out there who can relate. We all could use a trip to the beach at some point in our lives.

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Walking along the ocean the other day made me think about what it would be like to walk beside God.

It's been a while.

In trying to keep up with the fast-paced Southern California lifestyle, life was becoming a schedule; my relationship with God, a business partnership. It took a trip to the beach to help put things back into perspective.

"I need to do this more often," I thought, as I trudged across the sand. It's a shame, living in a coastal area and rarely making it to the beach. So near, yet so far.

I just got caught up in "things," I guess. You know, the tasks, the duties, the obligations.

Not that I never have fun. Sure I was having fun. There's even a time slot in my "Day-Timer" for "Fun."

Then, I heard a crashing wave; it was quoting a verse from Ecclesiastes:

"Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless."

Yes, life is good, I continued, ignoring the wave. A lot of difficult things are going on right now, but I'm dealing with them. I guess you could describe my life as ... stable. That's it. Even keel.

The wave rolled back in swift retreat, peeling away yet another layer of the hypocrisy, and then it spoke again:

"All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun."

This time, I listened. Meaningless. That's what my life was becoming. I was so busy doing the right thing, saying the right things, being the right person, I had forgotten why I was doing it.

Last week found me beside the ocean early in the morning with my Bible and a sincere prayer. I was seeking a wave of inspiration. I needed to get close to God.

There's nothing more irritating than a cliche. Worn-out words. Tired responses. Glazed-eye gazes that yield no insight.

Religion can get like that, when you squeeze it into a time slot.

You go to church. You recite a prayer. You hear a sermon. You do a charitable act.

You fulfill an obligation to your church, your religion, your God, because it's the "right thing to do." Not because you love God, or you're grateful, or you're joyful. Not because your faith is the anchor of your life.

Your relationship with God diminishes to a pretty thing, a stained-glass window. It becomes frozen in time, like a religious painting. God and worship become an art form that must be mastered, performed and put on display. But the joy, the zeal, the heartfelt devotion that make it real is lost.

That's when it hits you: "Meaningless." I'm chasing the wind. And like the cliche my relationship with God has become, I'm getting weary.

Had I kept this up - this religion on the run - I would have shipwrecked my faith. My duties and obligations would have taken me under. I would have drowned in my schedule, in my legalistic approach to life.

It was time to return to the beach, marvel at God's creation and get inspired.

For those like me who have seen the warning signs: Get back to the "ocean" of your faith and listen to the waves. Stop and smell the salt water. Feel the sand beneath your feet.

Take God out of the appointment book and make him the captain of your life. Then you can weather the storms together.

(Joy Thompson is an editorial writer for the Long Beach Press-Telegram. You can write to her at 604 Pine Ave., Long Beach, Calif. 90844.)

(c) 1997, Press-Telegram (Long Beach, Calif.).

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