It was Waikiki in September. We parked in a hotel parking structure and carried our big Costco foamboards under our arms and walked the downtown streets with bare feet toward the ocean. It was warm and beautiful, and I was nervous, but surfing was what I had always wanted to do. We paddled out from the beach just west of the Duke Kahonomoku statue in downtown Waikiki. I fell off, again and again as we paddled out, but eventually I figured out at least how to remain on the board seated and laying down. I kept getting pushed over by waves as we jockeyed through a mob of beginners and not so beginners in the stunning Hawaii waves.

               I remember one girl, thin as a rail with long golden-brown hair on a purple longboard who just made it look so incredibly easy. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. It would take me another six months before I could fade a take-off like she did. Who knows if I will ever be able to walk the length of the board with the grace she possessed, out to the nose and hang ten with smoothness and ease. But me at the time was more concerned with the, how in the world do I stay on the board, figure out the right spot in the wave and stand up. I just wanted to stand up.

               We were there in the lineup, and chatting between small waves coming through. They would curl a little and then crash into whitewater, and we could feel the push of that white water beneath us when they would pass. It had real strength, or so it seemed. I kept paddling around, trying to watch others as they caught waves until finally, blessedly there I was, in a good spot to catch some white. I faced my board toward the shore and started to paddle hard and fast, though not really fast considering the wobbling wonky way I was stroking. Perfecting paddling stroke will be a lifelong endeavor I think.

               Still, there I was, the wave crashed right behind me and produced the whitewater that kooks (total newbies to the sport) like to catch as they are learning. I felt the wave lift me, rocket me forward, and I was there. I felt the moment that there was enough stability, forward momentum, the adrenalin was pumping in my head, and I didn’t stand. I knew I could have. I felt it all. Felt the whole movement, but it was only a moment, and I was too scared to try to stand.

               We paddled back in shortly after that particular wave, but it haunted me for a full week before I went out again, and again failed to stand. It would take three more sessions, and watching tons of videos, and not a little bit of luck before I first stood up. That wave still haunts me a little, though that sense has faded after months of successful surfing, by no means expertly, but riding many beautiful waves. Still, there is a lingering regret over knowing I could have caught it but didn’t.

               Regret is a funny thing for Christians, especially as we first start out our Christian journey. Our zeal for the Lord tends to be high, and our excitement for what’s to come, but like me out in the waves my first time, we don’t quite know what’s going on. Maybe we see some friend or fellow brother or sister in Christ out there sharing the gospel or preaching, or diligently serving God in their work, and we think that it all just comes so easily to them. Why can’t we stand up? How long before we can do that, walk with confidence before the Lord?

               Maybe, like me, you have a failed early approach at evangelism, where your zeal outpaced your knowledge, and you ended up just looking foolish. Maybe, also like me, you’ve had the strong urge to share the gospel, you knew the timing was there. The opportunity arose, and you simply didn’t. We can speak another time about the silliness of my expecting anything out of surfing when I started with zero instruction and how that applies to Christianity, but the fear that sometimes stays our hand when we could otherwise act I something that never fully goes away in the Christian life. Ours is a terrifying an exciting existence, to be used by God in the expansion of His kingdom. That may be in evangelism, or, if you’re married, that may be serious fears surrounding your readiness to have children and expand the kingdom by raising them in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Whatever the case may be, the fear doesn’t really go away, but we can supplant it with a great fear.

               In the case of me in the waves, there would always be another wave, another chances. Waves are fleeting things, beautiful and majestic, but manifestly temporary. They are great analogies for life. If you are concerned that you have missed the wave in the Christian life, don’t forget the promise of God that “We are His worksmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (Ephesians 2:10). God has prepared works for you to do on His behalf, and He supplies for the skill, the timing, and the courage to stand up when the time is right.

               Since this is ultimately a blog for men, let me add an amusing note here. The fear of standing up, on the wave or in whatever moment of truth God places you in, is easily overcome once you understand the deeper fear of regret itself and, in the things of God, the deeper fear of God. If it is fear of man that stays your tongue in sharing the Gospel or your desire for a family or any other area of obedience to the Lord, then a healthy fear of God ought banish those notions entirely. Maybe surfing is a silly example, but the fear I have of watching a wave roll away from me has overcome most of my fears of falling over by dropping in on it, not in every case but in most. It is far worse to miss the wave entirely, than to drop in and wipe out, learn and grow. So, let’s be men and risk some wipeouts so that we may walk worthy of the calling God has given us.