Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

Sometimes, it’s as if God is showing off.

With toes tunneled into the soft, cool sand, I watch the kids ride one wave, then another, their heads thrown back in full laughter, their bodies rocking with the ebb and flow. The sun heats like I imagine a microwave, warming first my skin, then underneath, in layers, until my whole body is liquid, and I am languid, lazy, drifting in and out.

Twenty feet from my son, a school of dolphins surface. One after another, sleek fins slice the Atlantic. They flip in the air, and I imagine it’s recess, one dolphin after another vying for attention.

For me, it’s as if heaven opens a bit, and for a moment, I witness the perfect. For 15 minutes, the whole beach pauses, books open but unread, naps put on hold, sand castle moats in mid-dig. We all watch the dolphins flit across the horizon, almost close enough to swim out and touch, though no one will. The scene is too wonderful, and as if by unanimous consent, no one will disturb it. 

On this day, I feel God. And when someone asks me how I know there’s a God or how God moves in the world, I’ll tell them that sometimes God is a perfect 15 minutes on the beach, with the sand and the sun and the surf in concert. 

I’ll feel God on Easter Sunday too, when the descant of "Lift High the Cross" sends shivers down my arms, and I’m reminded again and again of the enormous sacrifice of Jesus’ death and the incredible redemption from his resurrection. 

There will be people in our churches who haven’t been there for months, not since Christmas Eve, anyway. And some haven’t been in years, but they’ll come on Easter out of obligation or expediency. 

This is our chance, our opportunity to show God, to share our story. Will we be ready? 

Where did you see God today? How will you share the story?