The waves roar, O Lord,
the waves roar,
the waves roar and crash.
Above the sound of the surging water,
and the mighty waves of the sea,
the Lord sits enthroned in majesty. (Psalms 93:3-4)
I was alone on the beach and the sky presented a circus of weather systems. Clouds roiled on my left, while away to the right, dark streaks evidenced a downpour. In the place of trapeze artists, seabirds swooped about the venue. Beneath it all, a far more tumultuous entertainment took center stage.
Violent waves pounded the seafloor kettledrum. Each salty eruption bellowed that it was a being unto itself, not to be mistaken as part of the general surf. The roar of a wave thumped on my chest and overwhelmed my mind. As the mass resolved into a foaming hiss, I tried to form a reaction, but the rolling of the next wave interrupted.
An aquamarine pane of foam laced water reached toward the sky. The translucent curl beckoned, “All manner of fish, plankton, and sea life thrive in my lap. Would you like to dive into my grasp to learn how you’d fare?”
Those awe-inspiring waves were more than the sum of water and sand, inertia and gravity. They were holy messengers whose every shout passed through my flesh to shake my spirit. They did not speak—they grabbed hold, pulled me to their face, and forced the message that God is mighty into my core.
With every drop and decibel the sea mountains declared the source of all authority. “God is huge,” they rose, “He is altogether beautiful,” they crested, “He is our awesome Creator,” they crashed in thunderous laughter.
This was no longer a circus tent but a holy sanctuary. I sat with hundreds of jubilant waves, and together we worshiped our LORD God Almighty.
Prayer: Oh God, no god is like you, even the waves tell me so.