Story of the Seashells

A little while ago I went to the beach with a friend, who thankfully is on board with modesty and covering up. I shared part of the beauty of my time with my mom and she has been asking me to blog about it for a while now! Without further ado:

Story of the Seashells

I sit and savor the salty air. As the air moves the curves of my smile are gently caressed and it twirls my hair in it's movement. In this, I am absolutely drawn to the love of the Creator. His love is like an ocean, never ceasing to crash wave upon wave over me. His love is so vast, so deep, so wide, stretching beyond what I am capable of perceiving. He created such wondrous beauties!

I am humbled. The Sovereign Lord and Creator of everything in existence loves me. Me? How do I begin to wrap my mind around such an impossibility, such a charity, such an incomprehensible decision? But He does, He loves me. He created me. He chose me. He redeemed me. In my brokenness He reached down and made me whole, then filled me with His unfailing love.

I am in awe. His handiwork is magnificent. The power of the waves, the wind whipping all around, the sea salt air filling my lungs, the countless grains of sand sticking between my toes, the heat of the sunshine, the song of the gulls, the sound of the surf... He MADE all of this! And He allows me to enjoy it. Gratitude fills my inner being.

I am teachable. He uses moments of relaxation to fill my wearied soul with more of Him. As I leisurely collect seashells, I am struck by the numerous sizes and shapes, some broken, some seemingly whole, and some simply rocks battered by the waves. I tend to struggle with the remnant body of believers. We are so broken, so tossed by the winds of this world, thrown about and pulled apart. But He and His truth are constant. He made and redeemed us. The simple fact is some are more broken than others and it's plain to see... some are protected and the brokenness is less apparent. But there is beauty amid the broken and whole alike, all are unique with stories to tell. We are like the seashells, some are fragile and were battered so much you can hardly make out the original form, but the design is still in tact. Some are whole, some are rough, others smooth, and some are rock solid. Then there are those who have been pummeled by things unseen... all bear marks of the sea and its shore. All were crafted with intentional care by the Creator. All display His glory.

I pray to have my eyes continually upon the Maker and to see others not as how perfect or imperfect they seem to be, but rather see them as an object of God's handiwork-ones created for a purpose, to glorify Him. I want to see His beauty in what He made and is making more like His Son. I want to see them as I see the seashells: beautiful amid diversities.

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There are some days I need that gentle reminder.

But through everything, His truth remains. Love is essential, but it is not always in the form we presume. His grace was manifest in that beach trip. What a state I would be in if it were not for His grace, mercy, and love!

I would like to make a disclaimer as well. I did not mean that the seashells are "all people" but rather God's elect children. There is a staunch difference. But in that, everyone is still made for a purpose-to glorify Him. Saved and unsaved, we bring glory to the God of heaven.

But when I am caught up in comparison, the story of the seashells is a sweet reminder.