When the Waves Speak

The night before, I made a deal with God:

If You wake me at 5:30 a.m., I’ll go to the beach and meet you.

The next morning, my eyes opened—no alarm, no snooze—at 5:30 exactly. I knew I was being summoned.

So here I am, barefoot at the water’s edge, the air cool and tasting of salt. The sky is wearing that soft gradient that only exists before the day fully wakes. Seagulls are stationed like security guards along the sand. I walk down the shoreline, pray, and when I glance back—they’re still in the exact same spot. Unbothered. Patient. Watching the same ocean I am, but from a completely different posture.

Some waves arrive shy, brushing my toes before retreating. Others hit stronger, wrapping my ankles in a cold embrace and pulling—like they want me to go with them. It feels like an invitation: Come further. Trust Me. Step in.

And that’s when I think of Jesus’ words: “He who has ears, let them hear” (Matthew 13:9).

The Pull Beneath the Surface

For years, I read that verse as if it were just about farming—soil, seeds, crop yields. But parables, like the ocean, work in layers. On the surface, they tell one story. Beneath, they carry another that you only hear when you’re willing to wade deeper.

It reminds me of a wedding I once attended. The man sitting next to me asked what I wanted to do. Without thinking, I answered from an eternal perspective: In the afterlife, I’d like to be a guide for souls, helping them transition home.

He laughed and said, “No, I mean here—on earth.” I had to laugh too, because I’d already skipped ahead to the next chapter of existence.

I think that’s the way God trains my ears—by keeping me aware that the spiritual undertone is always playing. Some people only hear real estate deals. Others, by grace, hear eternity.

Paul wrote, “The person without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God… they are discerned only through the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:14). Two people can watch the same wave, stand on the same beach—and one sees water, while the other hears the voice of God.

Waves as Teacher

The ocean preaches in metaphors.

From a distance, a wave can look intimidating—rolling in with power—but when it reaches shore, it shatters into harmless foam. Fear is like that too. Up close, much of what looks like it could wipe us out turns out to be seafoam.

C.S. Lewis once said, “We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him.” And it is—crowded with Him. Even here, in the stubborn stillness of seagulls, in the salt wind that smells like morning mercy, in the lace of foam curling over wet sand, in the birds flying in perfect V-formation overhead.

The psalmist wrote, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1). Creation isn’t just scenery—it’s a sermon.

Learning to Listen

Dallas Willard once said, “God’s address is at the intersection of now and reality.” In other words, He’s speaking in the very moment you’re standing in—right now, not in some future season when life “settles down.”

I’m learning that hearing Him isn’t always about dramatic signs. Sometimes it’s about paying attention to the undertones:

The way certain waves pull harder than others. The foam that looks like clouds scattered across the shore. The seagulls that refuse to move, as if modeling patience.

It’s all part of a deeper dialogue—one you only catch if you’re listening.

Soul Insights

from the Shore

1. God’s invitations often begin in the ordinary. A wave at your feet, a stranger’s question, or even a still bird on the sand can be the start of something sacred. God rarely shouts—He whispers through what’s already in front of us. The challenge is slowing down enough to notice that an “everyday” moment might actually be an open door to a deeper walk with Him.

2. Fear rarely survives close inspection. From a distance, fear can look massive and unstoppable, much like a wave that seems ready to knock you down. But the closer you get, the more you realize how much of it is made of nothing—foam that dissolves the moment it reaches you. When you bring fear into the light of God’s presence, you often discover it never had the power you thought it did.

3. Stillness can be a teacher. The seagulls that never moved while I walked the shoreline reminded me that waiting in place is not the same as being stuck. In God’s economy, stillness is often strategic—it’s where trust is refined and vision is clarified. Sometimes He calls us to hold our ground so we can see the waves for what they really are.

4. The spiritual undertone is always playing. Whether we notice it or not, every moment hums with eternal significance. A casual conversation, a pattern in the clouds, the sound of water retreating—each carries the potential to point us toward God. The more we train our hearts to listen, the more we realize that life itself is layered with messages from the One who made it.

5. Hearing God is about posture, not perfection. It’s not about catching every single whisper—it’s about staying open to the possibility that He’s speaking. Some days, the pull is obvious, like a strong wave; other days, it’s a quiet nudge you might only recognize in hindsight. What matters is cultivating a heart willing to step deeper when the invitation comes.

Final Reflection

Some waves barely touch you. Others pull. Either way, they come from the same ocean.

So I’m asking myself—and maybe you can ask yourself too—what in my life is God using as a gentle reminder, and what is He using to pull me deeper?

Because, as Jesus said, “Blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear” (Matthew 13:16).

And maybe the next time the waves wrap around your feet, you’ll feel the invitation too.

Your Turn

“The waves are always speaking—are you listening?”

If today’s reflection stirred something in you, take a moment tomorrow to notice the spiritual undertones in your own ordinary moments. Journal them. Pray over them. Share them with a friend. And if you’ve had your own “ears to hear” moment lately, I’d love to hear it—leave a comment or send me a message so we can keep the conversation flowing.

Soul Path Insights