God Beyond My Periphery | An Intro

Not long ago I was sitting upon a piece of driftwood on a beach near Semiahmoo, in Blaine, Washington.  It was a beautiful day.  The type of day that compels you to sing praise to God even though your “praise singing” voice is less than angelic amidst the audible sound of creations glorious voice. 

The sun was high and set against a sky so blue and clear that it was difficult to distinguish where the sky stopped and the water began.  The only demarcation was a lone sail boat quite a distance off shore.  The boat looked small from where I sat, but I was certain it was a better size than many I have admired.  The breeze was slight by the time it met me on my piece of driftwood.  However, it must have been whisping stronger some distance out because the sail boat seemed to clip right along. 

I watched the boat for sometime before I was distracted by something.  Perhaps it was a small crab racing for a rock or a hunt for that one beautiful shell or agate that becomes my daily treasure.  No matter though.  Whatever it was, it grabbed my attention long enough that I forgot about the sail boat. 

Suddenly the water began to slap the rocks with a bit more fury than moments prior.  I paused to pay attention.  Indeed the water had become tumultuous and waves that I had not seen coming were steady and strong.  It took me a moment or two before I realized these waves were produced by the lone sail boat that passed by several minutes ago.

Many times, when I reflect on the life I have lived and the manner in which God has spiritually shaped me, I am impressed with His relentlessly steady and strong power and grace.  Not that I have noticed it in the moment of shaping.  Apparently the scope of my perspective is far too narrow to be so keenly impressed by Him.  More so I have noticed it much the same way one may sit upon the rocks near the bay and admire a boat passing some distance out, become distracted, forget about the boat, and moments later experience the steady and strong power and grace of that boat as the waves of its wake crash upon the shore.  Then, subsequently, become even more impressed with the boat than was previously possible.  This is a reality that reminds me in these daily moments that God is working beyond my periphery more than within it, and it stirs up in me a conflict of hope and trepidation that is not easily placated, save a remembrance of His spiritual shaping in me.

What you’ll find in the several posts that follow this one are remembrances.  I have gone to the lower drawer of my mind’s file cabinet, opened it up and found laying behind the neatly organized files several pages of remembrances.  We all have one of these drawers.  You place your acquisition of relative value there where you’ll see it whenever you open the drawer.  But after having repeated this several times, that first thing has been forced out of mind and out of sight.  For you the metaphor may mean more as a dresser drawer or a drawer in your kitchen.  A file drawer is the image that fits me best.  But back to these remembrances I found.  It is not so much that they have been forgotten in my mind as they have simply been placed or pushed out of sight for too long now.  They are remembrances of times and seasons that God used, beyond my direct view; even beyond my periphery, to shape me spiritually into the man that I am here and now, sitting in this coffee shop, listening to this groovy music, ticking away on these lettered keys.  And so I have titled this series of posts:  “God Beyond My Periphery.”  And I hope they encourage you unto remembrance as well.


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