Childhood camping trips to the ocean always included a hike across the dunes with our Dad. We were the great explorers in sandals and Sea-N-Ski, preparing to scale the barren wastes. Mom was left behind to gather the picnic lunch, blankets, Frisbees and towels, then drive to the beach to meet us. I always felt a little sorry for her “aloneness” until I discovered (after having our own kids) that she loved these small moments of solitude!

We left our campground and entered our dry, shifting world, eagerly and easily skittering up the side of a dune, our feet gouging into its flanks as we hurtled down the other side. Up and down, we trekked across the pathless sea of sand, always wanting to be the first to glimpse the ocean, but our reward for cresting a hill was only a muted white sound. Finally we were rewarded with sea grass. Then, topping the last small ridge, we shivered at the full ocean roar. Soon we were running toward it, flinging ourselves into its salty iciness.

Lacking childhood innocence and exuberance, our life can sometimes seem like we stepped into sand dunes. When old sins surface, we feel trapped by unsteady footing. We crest a hill only to go down again. Is this really a new dune, or the same one? Am I making progress? I feel like I’ve been at this point in my life forever. Yet to observe it from a seagull’s point of view would reveal a relatively short path, and would show how far we’ve come. Though privy to many of David’s sins and defeats, we are also blessed and encouraged by his songs to the Lord. 2 Sam. 22 reminds us that we share David’s Father and Guide, and it is His true strength that He kindly gives us for victory (v. 36). He widens our steps so that we can walk firmly and safely (v. 37). He’s our support when we’re ready to sink (v. 19, 20). And standing there with sand sliding away beneath us, we can have assurance that He delights in us (v. 20)! Looking back for the places of struggle in the soft sand, we find them covered, and marvel that He has forgiven us once again.