MOVING THE ANCIENT BOUNDARIES

Splashing through puddles carved by the tides. Wiggling our toes in the coarse sand of Little Talbot Island. And chasing Mama and Daddy down the beach to their favorite fishing spot, was my brother’s and my delight each Wednesday afternoon when we were kids.

Daddy loved to surf fish.
And Mama? Well, I think there must’ve been a little competition between those two—you know—who would catch the bigger fish before the colors of sunset bled into the horizon.
Atlantic waves pounded the shore of this wild and tiny island between Mayport and Fernandina Beach, Florida. Many of this nation’s aircraft carriers were stationed just across the inlet at Mayport. The waters were deep and the waves majestic, making this lonely stretch of beach a fisherman’s paradise and a kid’s gigantic water park.

The roaring waves, beach sand, and sea breeze, coupled with the security of the carriers in the distance shouted freedom and joy. Though my brother and I had no understanding of anything but delight as we played in the breaking waves.
Our parents challenge, however, was to propel their lines into deeper waters—beyond the breakers, to catch fish.
I watched Daddy cast his salt water line, time and time again, only to have it wash back and swirl around the waist deep water where he stood. So he spent much of his time reeling in and recasting to keep from being snagged by the razor-sharp hook. But the more he fished, the stronger his casting arm became. And my brother and I would bet how many casts before that hook and bait would land beyond the waves, into the gentle swells of the ocean’s current.

Mama was another story. Try as she might, she spent most of her afternoons casting. Reeling in and recasting, in an attempt to get out of the shallows and into those currents beyond the breakers. Her casting arm wasn’t as strong as Daddy’s—unless she was applying the rod of discipline to our backsides. Hmm, guess she got more practice on our fannies.
How about your casting arm? Is it strong? It takes muscles—spiritual muscles—and practice to cast our troubles, our pain, and our sinful habits on Jesus. But isn’t that what He instructs us to do?
“Therefore, humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:6-7 NKJV).

Notice the Word says casting—it’s more than a one time thing. It’s an ongoing action. But we lack patience and the stick-to-it perseverance to build the strength to cast our cares out of the shallows and beyond the breakers into the current of God’s love.
Yep, we squench our eyes shut in the midst of distress, toss up a prayer in the chaos, and wonder why God doesn’t wave His magic wand to remove the problem. And the turmoil washes right back over us, sometimes hooking and harming whatever or whomever it snags. Our arms and our spirits are weak. No strength. No aim. And no ability to see beyond the current crisis.

More often, the consequences of our sins knock us down in the shallows where the waves crash and keep us floundering in the shifting sand of habits. Our hope is rescue. Immediately. But perhaps God’s greater purpose is building spiritual muscles—muscles that will allow us to cast our troubles beyond the back-wash into the currents of His grace and forgiveness and leave them there.
Just this past week, I experienced those swirling hours of hook dodging. I didn’t take the proper precautions to insure a smooth move from one apartment to the other. I was too busy to begin the few days before the move with the Lord. Oh, I’d tossed up a generic prayer while mentally reciting my to-do-list. And when things fell apart my response was anger—a severe verbal thunderstorm that leaped from my mouth and struck with lightning zaps on everyone in proximity.
By dark, the cement wall of consequences loomed in front of me. And I spent a sleepless night before I humbled myself before the Lord. Admitting a long list of failures and sins, and releasing—yes I said releasing. Releasing and accepting the consequences of whatever God allowed.
So often we continue casting our pitiful, ping-pong of pathetic, wanna be prayers toward the ceiling. While the consequences of our disobedience to stop, humble ourselves, and be quiet before Him, crash and break around us and we flop like stranded fishes in those shallow-water waves.

Stopping means cease striving. Humbling means searching my soul. Admitting means holding nothing back—being honest with God about what He already knows. And releasing means a willingness to accept beforehand whatever consequences God deems appropriate.
Remember, the longer the striving, the heavier the consequence.
But the rewards of learning to cast our cares out of the shallows, beyond the crushing waves of life, into the deep swells of God’s love brings a harvest.
Fish—the ability to become fishers of men!
Until I learn to abide in the deep currents of God’s will, rather than enduring the pounding of chaotic waves, why should anyone want to be like me?
God challenges and instructs me to live life beyond the breakers. But it’s my choice—struggling in the shallows or learning to sail in the gentle swells of His love.

“…casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.”