Rocky shore

By nature, I am a skittish person. I don't stand close to high edges, I don't try to leap from one side of a 2-foot chasm to the other side, and I don't stand on glass floors in tall buildings. Yesterday was no exception.

That morning, whilst sitting in church and trying to be patient during a particularly tedious sermon, I decided we would head to the sea for the afternoon. It was going to be sunny and after a week of dreary rain, I was ready to be outside. The sermon ended and we hurried home to fry up some falafel to stuff into sandwiches so we could head out quickly. A friend joined us and off we went to Anfeh.

It was the most wonderful of afternoons. The sky was crisp, the air was clear, and I could finally breathe without whistling. We wandered into an old monastery, where my husband explored behind the low swinging engraved doors to find several sets of cassocks, we maneuvered between rectangular cement salt collecting stations empty for the winter, and finally found a way down to the garbage, seashell, and rock-covered seashore.

My husband and sister-in-law busied themselves collecting large seashells while my friend and I digitally caught the essence of peace as best we could—to daydream on when the next week returned to collect on drear and dark. As I began to head back up to the parking lot, stepping from one loose stone to the next, I contemplated the wobbly rocks my feet landed on and thought,

The rock is always a solid foundation.

A true rock is solid. It may be unstable but it never disintegrates when weight is put upon it. Of course if enough force is put on it, a piece may come off, but that piece is still solid. It's still a rock.

Later in the day, I found myself facing a rather unstable metal bridge. To reach the miniature peninsula of rock that jutted out into the setting Mediterranean Sea meant I had to either backtrack and go out of my way, or go forward across the rickety bridge. My adventurous husband volunteered to test it out, as he stepped over the link chain meant to keep curious tourists out. He sauntered across, stopping mid-bridge to jump a few times to ensure it held.

It did.

The bridge wasn't very high, maybe a meter and a half at most, and below was a mixture of rock and beach sand, so any fall would likely be more dangerous from getting caught on a sharp edge of the bridge than the landing. My sister-in-law was next to make the crossing and also did so uneventfully. My friend happily tried to explain that if the bridge were indeed to fall, it would list to the right, therefore I should walk on the right to ensure maximum safety. None of which made sense to either of us.

I knew if I didn't start walking, I would freeze and not be able to make it across. Before my mind had a chance to really process the stupidity of walking across a bridge clearly marked keep out, whose detaching side metal seams caused it to sway slightly in an unnerving way, I stepped onto the bridge.

I made it across. However, I vowed not to repeat the experience and we found a different way back. The bridge held, but there was no guarantee it would again. Its solidity was questionable and its stability unsure. Unlike the rocks that shifted but held, this bridge could collapse at any moment.

In life, there are many things that seem secure but in reality, they cannot provide us the stability we need. At any moment, they could collapse and we could find ourselves falling to a painful place. Some are easy to spot—money, drugs, addictions—while others are more opaque—friends, knowledge, or a career.

I want to learn how to trust more in the God Who always is a solid foundation. For me and for my life.

Look! I am placing a foundation stone in Jerusalem,
    a firm and tested stone.
It is a precious cornerstone that is safe to build on.
    Whoever believes need never be shaken.

   ~Isaiah 28:16 NLT