North Shore Hawaii, 5 January 2024

I walked out to the point, across a section of rocks that would let me avoid a large portion of the paddle out. The waves on the horizon looked manageable, and I was excited to try to rip on my short board (emphasis on try). I waited for a series of waves to come in and raise the water level around the rock I stood on and then leapt into the water on my board, paddling hard away from the rocks as the return flow helped pull me out into the ocean.  I began paddling straight outward toward some smaller breaking waves, duck diving them, and pushing through. I tried to angle myself toward the point, knowing there was a cross current that would pull me farther out east away from the spot I wanted for my board.

Another wave came through, bigger this time. I duck dived it, pushing hard, waited a few seconds for the white wash on the other side to dissipate so I could paddle better, and then another wave was coming in. I dove again, arms already the early tired you get from a warm up, and heartrate starting to elevate. I came up from my duck dive, and another wave was rising, and I checked my position to the point. I hadn’t gone any farther north, where I wanted to be, but the current was ripping me out east. I increased my angle and paddled hard back toward the point, managed to line up (luckily) with a fun little right-hand wave. Turned, saw another one coming in, and caught it as well. I did a couple simple turns, nothing great, then checked my position again. I was way far out from the point and now in front of a rock shelf that sits on the east side of the point, far inside the main break.

Then began the almost thirty-minute-long paddle against a treadmill current. When I finally turned to try to catch another wave, I had to bail as I was way too close to the rock shelf. I managed to pull out of the wave, but there was no escaping the swirling current around the shelf, and I was pulled into it, smashing my knee. I had been here before, different board, smaller day, but I knew what to do. I paddled out and to the east letting the current pull me out into a broader channel that would let me get back inside. Another kid behind me ended up getting pulled into the same rock shelf, so I wrapped back to check on him. Thankfully he was doing great, though his board looked a little banged up. When all was said and done, we simply paddled back into shore. It had been an hour, for two so-so-waves, and I had never even gotten to the outside break. I was discouraged, but I had options. I went to get the big guns.

I arrived back at the beach with my longboard, painted up for my silver surfer costume half a year ago. It’s gaudy and silly, but it’s the board I have surfed the most and I have solid trust in it. With the added float from the bigger board, I blasted out past through the treadmill currents out the back of the main set waves. I managed to make the paddle during a lull between larger incoming waves as well, which I am grateful for, as there is no duck diving the longboard. The waves were sloppy and building somewhat slowly on the outside. I mis-timed a couple and had to pull back. One, I yielded to the shortboarder who had the peak (in surf parlance, whoever has the peak essentially has the right of way since he or she has the potential for the longest ride).

I missed a coupled more, dipping the nose of the giant board and being forced to shift my weight back out of the wave. Then finally I got one as the wave was standing up, and I was looking down the face toward the bottom. It felt like a clean and beautiful drop. I tracked out to the right, intending to fade the take off back left, but the right closed out in front of me in a crash of white faster than i expected. Thankfully, my twin was more maneuverable, so I dug in for a drawn out turn left and stayed in the wave, got a short ride, and then the left closed out into a splash of white, and I rode out into the flats and then leapt back, trying to not be swept too far inside. It was maybe an eight-foot wave, about as big as I had ever ridden, but really fun.

My head cleared the water to see behind me a big set wave maybe ten feet high coming at me. I paddled furiously directly toward the rising wave, only switching to a turtle roll at the last minute to ensure I had the best chance of clearing the worst of the power. I felt myself pulled backward, over the falls, but my body beneath the water acted like a partial anchor for the boat that was my longboard and kept me from getting pulled too far back. I flipped the board over and got back on it and paddled like mad again as another ten-footer rolled toward me. Again, turtle roll at the last minute, exhaustion setting in, board ripping me backward in the surf. But I pulled through, scrambled back up and paddled again. A third wave barreled toward me, just as big, I was close enough to that I was able to paddle straight through and let it lift me over it, and I sailed down the backside of the wave into the small lineup on the outside. I was breathing hard, but I had a smile on my face.

Devotional Note

I am so thankful for how far God has brought me in the stresses of the sea. One of those waves, even six months ago, would have been enough to set me freaking out, bailing my board and heart pounding into likely madness. I probably would have given up, letting the white water just push me wherever it wanted me to go. I wouldn’t have fought through to the place I wanted to go. Not today. Today, I knew I needed to get somewhere, and it would be worth it. I fought my way out the back.  I am even more thankful for how far the Lord has brought me in the stresses of life, whether relationships, work, struggles with sin, purpose and the like. Life is a series of strong current and powerful waves. Sometimes we should go with them, and sometimes it is right to fight them, vigorously, to reach the place you want to be. More to the point, to become the man who the Lord wants you to be. How often do we give up too soon, when victory is within sight? It may be behind a powerful and terrifying wave, one that will even pull us back a bit, but if we persevere, we can press forward still and reach the place He desires us to be. He has been faithful in teaching me this more and more and granting me greater confidence in these things, so that the smaller ripples of misfortune mean little, and even the bigger waves, though they crash and roar, cannot unsettle the stillness and strength which the Lord bestows.

The story continued…

I waited out there, letting big waves roll under me and build behind me toward the shore for maybe fifteen minutes. I steadied my breathing, and tried to get my noodle arms to wake up. I paddled for a few waves, fought my way back outside after missing a couple and getting caught inside again. The frantic paddling fight against waves as they stood, being pulled back by my floaty board, and finally making it out back again was a cycle that I became used to and better at. Finally, the wave I was going to catch came. I saw it pretty far out as a nice bulge on the horizon. Had I been more perceptive, I might not have taken it, but I was tired and wanted to catch something in, something fun. I wanted to push myself and catch something big. I paddled in around a couple guys who saw it later than I did (just as the peak has the right of way, the guy who paddles first is supposed to have the wave as well. It’s hardly a science, but there are these little etiquette rules, and folks yielded to me.) The wave stood up pretty fast and I almost missed it. I took the drop relatively late, especially for my longboard, but I set my rail in the wave and rocketed down the face, then I bottom turned and guided my board out left intending to pump myself back up the wave’s face. What I saw along the face after my turn was a towering wall of water around ten to twelve feet high and thirty or forty feet long with the feathering edge of white on the top the whole way. This was a closeout. That whole section of the wave would crash together in one giant explosion of epic, thunderous force. Most surfers would be bummed. Some terrified. It was a big flipping closeout. This wouldn’t be a long fun ride, but for me, this closeout represented the biggest wave I had ever ridden. Double overhead. I didn’t even fully realize it at the time. There was no panic. A calm excitement ruled.

Thinking about it now, and talking with some men from my church afterwards, maybe I should have been a bit more amped, but I was having fun. I recognized the closeout (which I wouldn’t have even maybe two months ago) and did the only thing you could do; I turned the board back out into the flats to try to escape and then ride the foam ball. The roar of the wave in my ears as it crashed behind me and the rocketing sensation of speed when all that power exploded outward toward the shore was exhilarating. I leaned back onto the board, side-eyeing the wave in preparation for when the foam would hit. I rode through it wobbling a bit with the twin fins looser than a standard longboard fin. I let the big wave carry me well inside before a second wave from a different direction (much smaller) crashed into me from the left, and I laughed as I jumped from the board and the foam and water caught me like the playful, powerful hand of God.

Devotional Note

Not every wave will work out for you, some might go horribly wrong. Whatever the case, there is a lesson and joy in the taking it anyway. We can never know where it will end for sure after all. We must press forward and push the boundaries of our abilities. I could have focused on the fact that this wave didn’t let me ride it, that it didn’t work out the way I had wanted it to work out. When we try to control the outcome we tire ourselves and enervate our souls. When we only ride the waves we know we can manage we stymie our growth. While there is much that can be done, sometimes the best you can do is enjoy the ride and take the added courage and confidence that comes from having faced a larger-than-life trial. So often, especially as Christians, we lose our sense of play and forget that God is a playful God, rather the source of all play – for without his creation there could be no play. I will likely write a whole post later on the playfulness of God, not in some kind of juvenilia, but in profound blessed enjoyment. For now, this big wave represents the joy in challenge and the playfulness of God who uses all things in our lives to glorify Himself and to strengthen us. Especially as men, we lose sight of the joy of living in the seriousness of other things – and that deadly seriousness keeps us from taking on greater challenges which may make us look foolish in the eyes of others. My female readers might look at a big wave and the danger of it and think that it is pure stupidity, but for a man, there is a profound purpose to testing the physical strength that God has given us, in play and in serious ways. This testing builds the confidence we need to face the larger waves that God will send our way in the future, as well enables us to appreciate and excel in the smaller waves. In short, men, take challenges as opportunities no matter the outcome, and women, try to encourage the men in your life to challenge themselves, even when it seems foolish – challenges bring us the life, the enlivening power, we need to serve the people of God, you, and our Lord better.

Takeaway

In the wake of the bigger wave, a much smaller wave followed on, clean as glass though frosted with thin wisps of white water. I popped back onto my board and caught that clean little wave back in toward the shore, loving the feeling and smiling like a madman at all the people on the inside who were taking little waves, enjoying the shielding of the interior bay. I rode a couple more short waves before heading back in, but by the time I reached my car I was deathly tired. My knees hurt, my back was tied in knots, and my shoulders burned like iron in a coal forge. My breathing was a bit ragged, and everything felt exhausting, but I was so excited. There was joy. Joy in the challenge, in the overcoming, in the failures, the sights and sounds, in the whole of the experience. Praise God that we get to live in such a world as this where we may be reminded of the immensity of His power and rejoice in what power He has given us to contend with the world He has made.

It’s a new year, with hopes and challenges and desires, some new some old. As we step into it, with the Lords gracious hand in our lives, let’s go big for his Glory, pushing through the challenges and reveling in the chance to test ourselves and be tested. We are not yet all that we could or should be for Him and His Kingdom. In order to reach it we must be willing to go big and press the edges of our ability. As Paul says to the church in Philippi, “Not that I have already obtained this [the resurrection from the dead] or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:12-14

Let us press on toward the goal to which we are called, ever upward, to the immense, towering heights of God’s calling in our lives and the lives of those around us. Go big for God as long as you have breath, and then, when breath ceases, go home to Him in glory.