Walking On Water: Contained

Imagine if all the knowledge and love of God were contained in an ocean. Imagine also that the whole world was the surrounding beach. Spiritually speaking, this is the reality for all of us: Our presence on the sandy shore, and our consequent filthiness, is our seemingly inescapable habitat, yet still for the ocean that is waiting to cleanse us. Like all of us, I was born into this environment. The sand covered my infant frame and clouded my eyes even as I first opened them to the world. Throughout my childhood, I remained covered from head to toe in sand, no matter what strategy I used to try to rid myself of it. One day, I learned that nothing I could do would be enough to eradicate the grain from my skin, much less my heart.

I was 6 years old and sitting on the living room floor. A candle lit the room and my mother began to tell me about the ocean.

“Cassandra,” she said, “what do you think about all the sand?”

“Well,” I started, unsure of how to respond, “I don’t like it. It hurts me; it makes me feel dirty. I want to be clean, like you and Daddy.” I pointed my finger in her direction and asked curiously, “What did you do to get rid of the sand?”

She answered. “Cassandra, darling, it wasn’t I who did the cleansing. In fact, nothing you or I can do is enough to purify ourselves.”

“Then what must I do?” I cried in earnest.

“You know very well of the sand and that it covers the entire earth. No matter what kind of a life you tried to live you couldn’t avoid it. That is why you must go to the ocean, Cassandra; In its waters you will experience cleansing.”

“The ocean?” I cocked my head. “Is it like the bathtub?”

She giggled at my expression. “Sort of. The ocean is like a bathtub limitless. There’s no bottom, no tub to hold it, and no plug to drain it. It’s an enormous body of water filled with a much different type of water than our tap.”

“Wow,” I marveled.

“Do you believe me, Cassandra?”

I scratched my head for a moment. “Yes, mommy. I do. Can we go soon?”

She laughed once more and offered the following: “Very well, my daughter, but you need to do a little more growing before you’re ready to make the trip because when you go, you’ll have to go yourself. Don’t worry, for now, believing is enough.” 

She touched my forehead softly with her lips and took my hand. I yawned and followed her lead into my room, under the covers, and into dreamland.  Just before I fell asleep, I heard her blowing out the candles.

Since having that discussion with my mom about the ocean, I did my best to avoid the sand; all the while anticipating the trip I would soon make to the ocean. It was hard to endure my friends’ accusations. They constantly questioned my decision to stand on the sidelines, while they played in the sand. Even worse, they didn’t understand, and often scorned, my explanations of the ocean. The hope of that life-giving water was enough to get me through days even as tough as the day Grady chased me with his sand bucket. He pursued me all day, and when I couldn’t take it any longer, I whipped my head around as I turned a sharp corner, and unleashed the most hateful insult I could manage. He laughed at me as I tripped on a root, hitting the ground and getting sand all in my mouth.

I grew in stature and faith, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew the ocean was out there. It was on one particularly sunny day of my 16^th year when I knew I was ready. Without even blinking, I headed to the east, in a manner that encompassed my certainty. I won both encouraging and critical glances from the people I encountered. Some went as far as to walk a little way with me, advising me to continue seeking. One man accompanied me for 3 hours, Clem. Clem was older than me, and at 5’9’’ he was 8 inches taller. I dare say I would have passed him up by choice but he could not be ignored. I mean, how can you ignore a man who went from a hard run south, to a stand-still stare directly in your direction. Yes, Clem started out peculiar and he stayed pretty consistent throughout our travel together, which is precisely why I am so fond of him. He was the first to know; he didn’t have to ask, he knew intuitively of my goal, and started walking confidently beside me without so much as a “may I?” I smiled.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled.

“I’m Cassandra.”

He met my gaze. “I’m Clem.” The twinkle in his eye was unmistakable, “I reckon you’re headed to the ocean, eh?”

I giggled despite myself, “Yes, you’re quite right. I’m ready to wash off this sand once and for all. I’ve believed in the ocean for 10 years, but I’ve yet to really experience it, ya know?”

Clem made a guttural noise in agreement. “It’s really the best thing to happen to a man. I can’t imagine someone live too long without it. I mean, really live.”

It was then I truly took in Clem’s appearance. Sure, he was rugged and built; a red man. Yet, he was clean. I never noticed this fact about Clem until now, and it kind of surprised me. The surprise must have shown on my face because just then Clem took focused interest in examining the afternoon clouds, all white and sure of themselves.

“I s’pose you never pictured a guy like me’d been to the ocean?”

“Ummm, no… well,” I stammered, trying to appear encouraging. “I mean, I guess I just didn’t look hard enough. I see it now, of course! It’s just, I noticed your company first, not your appearance.”

Clem seemed settled by this response. That’s when the real dialogue began.

Clem and I talked for hours about the ocean, he was walking in stride with me now. He told me before he went to the ocean, he heard of a creek not far from his house. Supposedly, claimed the town, this creek had the same cleansing abilities as the ocean, and was far more convenient to get to. What’s more, the town folk were convinced that the ocean was going to flood soon, and they’d simply be wasting a trip. Better to let it come to them, they said. Clem, being an impulsive man, went lickity-split straight to the creek and cannon-balled in.

“I hit the bottom, instantly, it was rock hard,” Clem grimaced. “That wasn’t the worst of it though. After I hit the bottom, I began feeling the impact of the water around me. It was heavy, like a net of chains. I got out quick as I could and ran back to my house. When I walked in the door, I slipped right on the linoleum, sprawled like an eagle on the floor! Turns out, that water was like a magnet for the sand. I’d been collecting the pellets like gold from the water’s edge. I took the longest and roughest bath of my life that night. Took me ages to slough all that sand off my body. What’s worse, I couldn’t get the feeling of it out of my system. I knew that creek was no ocean. Strangely, I couldn’t get it outta my head. It’s like I somehow belonged there, but I hated it.”

The story continued with Clem’s hatred of the creek fueling his desire for the ocean. Skipping over the details, Clem explained in broad terms the general difficulty of getting to the ocean, but the ultimate taste of purity once he finally made it.

“I spent a lot of time in that water. Sailing, swimming, walking… but I came to realize I’d be more useful back on the land. Someone needed to go back to my town and let ‘em know the ocean was content to stay where it was fer now… and they’d best get their tails over quick is can be.”

I nodded, though I didn’t fully understand what I was agreeing to.