Sand, sea, and the search for God

One recent spring I went to a favorite place of mine—an old rambling inn on the coast of Massachusetts. It's a beautiful old inn with a huge stone fireplace, lots of windows, no central heat; and in the spring the cold air from the ocean whistles through the rough siding. The only neighbors are miles down the shore.

The first morning I was there I jumped out of bed and eagerly went down to walk along the sea floor as the tide went out. I had come for a very special purpose. I had been feeling that there was a great gulf between God and me, and I wanted to be alone to find Him. I was listening, I guess, for a voice something like the one I thought Moses must have heard when God gave him the Ten Commandments. I talked to God, but I heard no answer. I walked and talked morning after morning, remembering how the patriarchs had talked with God—but no voice and still a heavy heart.

Trust God
September 25, 1978

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