Surfing and Hope

                                                                                                              

Three weeks ago I was surfing as the sun came up. The ocean was dense with fog. It was hard to see the waves. The pier was barely visible to the south and the water was silky glass. In the midst of beauty and a feeling of mystery, I found myself fretting, ever-so slightly, that a larger wave would roll through and I would get caught inside, pummeled and hurt.

It is a strange thing to be in the ocean when visibility is extremely limited. It’s a feeling of vulnerability. I always wish for a super power to see through the fog. A third eye, so to speak, that could see what cannot be seen. In the absence of this third eye, when fog blankets the sea and eyes strain to see the waves marching like disciplined soldiers to the beach, all senses are attuned to the slightest penetration of the fog by sun. 

Such was the case that day at sunrise. As I paddled for a wave, which was steep and had the shape of an A-frame house, a few rays of sunshine touched the surface of the water. Catching the wave and jumping to my feet, I slid down the face while the water sparkled like a field of diamonds. As I paddled back out, the sun shone stronger piercing the fog, allowing me to see what, only a few moments before, I could not see.

Sitting again on my board, I reflected how the act of hope often acts as a third eye in our lives. Hope helps us see what cannot be seen and believe what cannot be believed. Hope is a gift from God that keeps us singing when we have lost our voice. Were it not for hope, we would be lost at sea. All of our conscious lives we live with thoughts and dreams that may or may not become reality. But those thoughts and dreams that we wish to see become reality are supported by the strong arm of hope. Take away that strong arm and our thoughts and dreams shatter like a glass dropped on a kitchen floor.

There are few things in life that I appreciate as much as surfing. In part, it has made me the man that I am today. Surfing and hope go hand-in-hand. As a surfer, I am always hoping for just the right wave. Even on days when the waves are poor, there is something—hope—that does not die but continues to believe that a great wave is possible, even though circumstances suggest otherwise.

May you know this sort of hope in whatever situation you face. May you hang onto hope, whatever your state of affairs. And may the God of hope help you to see and believe what cannot be seen or believed.