In Hidden Places

My eyes scan the horizon, where the creamy blue sky meets up with the turquoise waters of the Andaman Sea off the coast of Thailand. I take a moment to bask in the warm rays of the early morning sunlight as I walk along a white sandy beach. 

I breathe in relief and exhale weariness. 

The lush green of waving palm trees intermingling with khaki shores, feels like heaven on earth. There in the steady cadence of it’s iridescent waters, the sound of rolling waves echo across this quiet beachfront and it’s incredible beauty is not lost on me. 

There is a stillness here, hidden within the rhythm of the waves. 

I grab my travel mug, filled to the brim with hot coffee and make my way through the grains of sand towards the beckoning waves. Sand squishing beneath me as water sprays up, I enter into the oceans embrace. I let go of the ground beneath me and feel the weight of myself carried along almost instantly. 

I’ve come to a ladies retreat for cross-cultural workers and this is a different space than what I’m used too. Landlocked and surrounded by wild African grasses in a Northern Ugandan village, is where my home has been for the past 8 years. There is a different beauty found in bush, where nature almost becomes one with our grass thatched and hand-pressed red brick home. Where the leafy banana trees teeter in the welcomed breeze and the sunset-colored blooms on our Aloe plant stand in stark contrast against the drab grasses in dry season. The heat of the sun beats down intensely and dust falls over every thing exposed. We have been in a long and unknown waiting season and the wear and tear it’s taken hasn’t fully been noticed until now.

Just how long.                                                                                                                                                     And just how lonely.                                                                                                                                      And just how exhausted.                                                                                                                             And just how heavy.                                                                                                                     

And just how the uncertainty has worn me thin.

Within a few sandy steps from where I am staying, there is a local pearl farm perched on a wooden platform right on this quiet beach. Little red bobbers floating above the surface pinpoint where the oysters wait. Walking inside the little weather worn shop and farm, I’m met with all sorts of precious pearls - luminous whites, indigo and violets mingling with blush pinks. After scanning the room, I’m invited to see how the pearl farming process takes place. Plastic bowls filled with mother of pearl spheres are spread out over a wooden table, where they will be used as seeds and carefully placed back into an oyster to produce more pearls. The oyster will be returned and remain in the South Sea waters for up to two years. During that waiting time, the oyster will respond to that seed by slowly coating it with layers upon layers of nacre. 

The unique process of how a pearl is formed has always held a special place in my life and one the Lord has brought back to my attention again and again. Over the past decade, I have often felt like that seed. Hidden within that unknown space, unable to see what is coming or what the Lord is doing. I’m constantly trying to ground myself in the Lord, despite the torrents of life that toss me about. When I feel the unsteadiness of uncertainties, the grieving of losses, or the pain of unknown endings - it’s difficult to remember that I am not fighting the waves on my own. 

I am with Him and in Him.                                                                                                                               And He is with me and in me.  

As I look over the expanse of these aquamarine waters, I’m reminded of words David penned in Psalm 139:7–10, 

Where can I go from your Spirit?                                                                                                                    Where can I flee from your presence?                                                                                                          If I go up to the heavens, you are there;                                                                                                       if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.                                                                                          If I rise on the wings of the dawn;                                                                                                                if I settle on the far side of the sea,                                                                                                               even there your hand will guide me,                                                                                                           your right hand will hold me fast (NIV).

Like a pearl hidden within an oyster, He keeps me within His embrace.                                                He covers me with his love in hard seasons and all those in between.                                                     He coats me with peace and wraps me in the comfort that only comes from Him.

He is our shelter.                                                                                                                                                  Our hiding place.                                                                                                                                                Our sanctuary.                                                                                                                                                    Our covering.

Abide in His love and allow Him to cover you in layers upon layers of his goodness.

In the middle of the pain and loss.                                                                                                                  In the middle of the uncertainty.                                                                                                                      In the middle of the weariness and waiting. 

No matter how hard the waves toss us, we can dwell in the One who is always with us.