Day 77: Riding Upon The Storm

"God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform. 

He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

and rides upon the storm."  

-William Cowper

A walk in any weather points the mind and heart to the Creator of that weather, and of my surroundings.  Today was even more the case, firstly because we were at a conference hearing talks on 'Loving God'.  Might sound a very basic, simplistic title - but as we were reminded, it's useless doing anything else in life without that foundation.  So Pin and I sallied forth into the wind and explored some of the town of Arbroath, and its nearby cliffs, while great waves of water flung themselves at each other, the sea walls, passing walkers, fishermen, and anything they could get their hands on.

We dandered around the harbour, and I wished not for the first time that I could take a still photo of a sound.  The tips of the sailboats made a tinkling, clinking sound as they rattled off each other, the boats rocking in the water.  It was like a multitude of heavy boating bells.  We stood and listened for a few minutes, and then wandered on between coils of rope and colourful cages that have some purpose in fishing, and arrived at a small bridge, at the end of which two fishermen were standing in oil slickers and staring at the sea wall.  There were vast quantities of water on the ground, but I wasn't quite sure what they were waiting for.  I mentioned casually that one of them appeared to be well soaked, and he grinned.

"At least I've got my rods," he said, pointing, and I saw indeed two fishing rods leaning against the bridge.  It was then I looked up, past a set of steps to a high barricaded spot, ideal for fishing, with two rods standing alone and aloof.  A few seconds later one of the most  massive waves I've seen hurled itself over the top of the sea wall, entirely engulfing the barricaded spot, the rods, the steps, and everything that would have been standing in its way.  I see now why the one fisherman was soaked.  The other, not yet soaked, couldn't quite time the raging sea in order to run up and get his rods back.  The sea wall was so high you couldn't see over it, and running up the steps to peer over could whisk a strong man away to sea (rods and all).  I was actually surprised to see the rods still there on their own.  We watched for a while, and a man with his small son stood with us, the small boy running up to the edge of the bridge and then running back.  Then we wandered away, leaving the fishermen to await the calming of the sea.

The power and might and rage within this stormy sea reminded me of a great story.  A small boat, out in the middle of the sea.  Twelve men, exhausted from the day's labours, beginning to notice signs of unrest in the sea itself.  The wind, picking up.  The waves, rising beyond expectation and quickly starting to swamp the sailing vessel.  And a man, their captain and leader, sound asleep in the bottom of the boat.  They know that help is at hand, there in the sleeping man, but these twelve men, some of them hardened fishermen, are fearing for their lives.  The boat will be swamped.  They will all be flung into that angry, stormy, furious sea - and swept to who knows where.  How is sleep even possible?  So after shouted consultation, brief but effective, several of them rush down.  There is shaking, there is shouting.  "Master, we perish!"  "Save us!"  And the man gets up, stands at the edge of the rocking, toiling boat, and says a few words to the sea, a few words to the wind.  "Peace. Be still."  And there was a great calm - so quiet suddenly that the twelve men are beyond amazed, suddenly terrified of the man they had rushed to waken.  "Who is this that commands the winds and the waves, and they obey Him?"  And the man, Jesus, looks thoughtfully on His twelve disciples.  "How is it that you are fearful?" He asks.  "Where is your faith?"

That story may be an 'old favourite', but thinking of it as I stand before a twenty or thirty foot sea wall that every moment is completely engulfed by raging salt water, seeing the unpredictability of it, two hardened fishermen completely helpless to even grasp their fishing rods, it is made a little more real to me.  Jesus has the power to calm the raging waves.  He rides upon the storm.

We walked on, round the edge of the sea and up to the top of the cliff, then back round, idly watching a football game in progress and a man throwing a ball to his dog.  Then it was to the Sugar and Spice tea shop for hot tea, something called 'Chocolate Violet' which I enjoyed immensely, and, of course, fish and chips.  Pin says that you can't be soaked with salt water and desire to eat anything other than fish.

I wonder how our fishermen are faring with their rods.

Walk length:  1.5 hours