On a recent trip to the coast with friends, we stargazed at the beach late one night. The six of us lay side by side on the sand, bundled up in sweaters and blankets against the freezing air. Nobody else was crazy enough to be there at that time, but we wanted to see the brilliant stars that were usually shrouded by city lights.
Laying there, it was impossible not to think of God. We sang ‘God of Wonders’ together and marvelled at the tangible reminders of his promises—the uncountable twinkling stars and grains of sand that represented the offspring of Abraham. I praised God for choosing us as heirs of this eternal glory.
In moments of sublime beauty like this, sadness often creeps in. I know the bliss won’t last. As each of us marries or has children or moves away, close fellowship will become rarer. The knowledge of its fleetingness brings grief in a moment where I should have been rejoicing.
But then I heard the sea billows roll and crash onto the shore, like God was reminding me where my security really lies.
I try to hold onto those happy moments, but they slip through my fingers as surely as the sand all around me. I don’t need to fight against this steady march of time. Instead, I can lean into it and trust that my faithful Father is the one who beats the drum. He alone is unchanging and eternal, holding all time in his hands.
I’ll only find fullness of life when this earthly sojourn ends. All that I’m trying to hold onto—the love and belonging and joy that friendship brings—is meant to prepare me for that day when I will come face to face with the God who made it all.
I wrote this short piece in response to a writing prompt on The GCD Writers’ Guild, with a strict word count of 300 words. These exercises are so helpful for building your writing muscle. The Guild is open for new members if you’re interested in joining us.