Born to be Free

Every year we return to South Carolina, it feels a lot like we're going home.  It's a place that's etched itself into my heart, and all my childhood memories. In some ways, I feel like I grew up on the beach, among the wild things that burrowed in the sand, dampened by the salt-spray. There was "the year of the seaweed", when hurricane surges had stirred up the depths and washed color on the sand. There was the year we bought peaches and watermelons from the local farmer's market. That one time in 2015 we were there during the hortific flooding that washed out roads and railroad tracks.  We drove our 12-passenger van through water as it splashed up on the hood.  Somehow we survived. I've changed every year, especially over this past one it seems.  This returning, this coming "home" - it grounds me, reminds me who I've always been, Who's always been there. He's traveled with me every year, guarding my path, healing my spiri

In a few days we will be leaving for our annual trip to South Carolina.  We have gone to the same spot since I was little, returning to the memory again and again. Perhaps one of the questions I hear the most is "What about the sharks?"  I tell people that the most afraid you'll ever be is when you're sitting at home.  When you walk to the water's edge, perhaps there is a bit of apprehension.  But as soon as the waves engulf you, there is no fear left - it's all been washed away. Maybe it's the same thing as when God says "Return to Me, and I will return to you..." (Malachi 3:7)  Maybe the most scared you'll ever be of the great unknown depths of God is when you're seated in your spiritual rocking chair. But when we're comfortable where we are is when we're in the most danger. Somehow, you just don't realize that until you're in the middle of the dark, when your biggest fears are swirling around you and threatening