Most people panic when a wave crashes into them. They flinch, cover their faces, and brace against the impact. But me? I love it.
This morning at the beach, I was hit with one of those waves — not gentle, not polite, but powerful enough to drench me head to toe. It should have startled me. Instead, I laughed out loud.
It was a wake-up call, the kind only the ocean (and God) can deliver. A reminder that the very things that overwhelm others are sometimes the places where I feel most alive.
When Waves Become Wake-Up Calls
Water is one of God’s favorite metaphors in Scripture. It’s cleansing, terrifying, and life-giving all at once. The psalmist wrote, “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me” (Psalm 42:7).
That verse used to feel poetic, almost exaggerated. But standing in the surf, with waves literally sweeping over me, it felt like my reality. Scripture moved from metaphor to memory, alive in my skin.
The waves weren’t just water. They were lessons. They reminded me of power beyond my control, but also of joy beyond my understanding. Where others might see chaos, I felt presence.
Anne Lamott puts it bluntly: “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” Maybe waves are God’s way of being a lighthouse — steady, disruptive, impossible to ignore.
Standing Where Sand Shifts
When I stand still too long on the shoreline, the tide begins to bury my feet. The only way to avoid sinking is to keep moving. That morning lesson made me think about faith. Staying fixed in one place isn’t always the safest option. Sometimes you have to move with God’s rhythm, even when the ground beneath you feels unstable.
Like Peter, who began to sink when he took his eyes off Jesus, I often lose balance when I focus on the wrong thing. Yet, “Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him” (Matthew 14:31). That promise is as steady as the tide.
The shifting sand is its own sermon: nothing stays the same, and that’s okay. Movement with God is safer than standing still without Him.
Why I Don’t Fear the Force
The truth is, I’ve weathered storms before. Grief, loneliness, waiting — I know what it feels like to be knocked around by life. But here’s what hardship taught me: the force that once terrified me no longer holds the same power.
“Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the Lord on high is mighty” (Psalm 93:4). That verse doesn’t read like a threat anymore. It feels like security.
Fear shrinks the soul. Joy expands it. And joy, I’ve learned, often comes when you stop resisting the inevitable and start receiving it as a gift.
Howard Thurman once said: “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that.” For me, being splashed awake by a crashing wave is one of those aliveness moments — messy, uncontrollable, and full of God.
Soul Insights
1. Disruption can be delight.
Most of us want calm seas. We crave predictability. But what if the interruptions are the very places God wakes us up? That crashing wave wasn’t an attack — it was a jolt of joy. The lesson is clear: sometimes His greatest gifts come disguised as disruptions.
2. What overwhelms some can strengthen others.
The same wave that sends one person scrambling makes another laugh. Our responses reveal where our trust rests. If I believe the wave is here to drown me, I fear it. If I believe God is present in it, I receive it as grace. The difference isn’t in the wave — it’s in the heart.
3. Faith is moving ground.
Life often feels like shifting sand. Trying to stand still in it only makes you sink deeper. The only way forward is to keep moving with God’s rhythm, one step at a time. Stability doesn’t come from the sand but from the One who made the shore.
4. Play is part of holiness.
We often imagine God as only solemn, but the laughter that bubbled out of me that morning told another story. He delights in delight. He teaches in whispers, yes, but also in splashes. To laugh when others fear is not immaturity — it’s trust. It’s letting joy be holy too.
5. Love the wave, love the Giver.
At the end of the day, waves are just water — powerful, unpredictable, untamable. But behind them is the God who is both mighty and good. To stop fearing the crash is to start trusting His character. The invitation is always the same: let go, lean in, and love the One sending the waves.
🌙 Final Thoughts
That morning’s splash was more than saltwater. It was God interrupting my thoughts, reminding me that His presence doesn’t always arrive as a whisper. Sometimes it barrels in, soaked in play and power.
I could choose fear, like so many do. But I’d rather choose laughter. I’d rather be awake, drenched in grace, aware that every crash is also a call.
Because if life is going to hit me anyway, I’d rather be found laughing in the surf than standing dry and untouched on the sand.
📣 Call to Action
Think about the last time life “crashed” into you. Did you brace yourself in fear, or did you let yourself laugh, even just a little? Share your story — I’d love to hear how God has met you in your wave moments. 🌊
© 2025 Amelie Chambord
Soul Path Insights 
Leave a comment