Diane Carver Sekeres,
College of Education,
University of Alabama
[Nov. 7, 2010]—
Recently my husband and I stayed overnight at Orange Beach, Alabama. As I always do when I am lucky enough to be near the shore, I rose early, walked for awhile on the packed sand along the water’s edge, and then hunkered down to await the sunrise.
As the water turned from slate to green with the strengthening light, a bird with stiffened reeds for legs stalked down the shoreline, intently watching the shallow water. It was oblivious to the glory of the sun gilding the green water and equally uncaring that I sat a stone’s throw away.
The egret stood where each incoming wave washed up a few inches over its legs. Its feet sank just enough in the shifting sand to give it purchase. As the water drove into the shore, the bird sank to a hunting stance-legs bent, neck coiled, wings slightly extended.
As the water receded, the bird relaxed slightly, straightening legs and neck and lowering its wings. With each new wave, it sank again, exactly as before. Time and time again, it readied itself, expectant of the provision that would come. I watched for 20 minutes or more, and it made three successful strikes, yet met every wave equally ready.
The egret’s intensity made me wonder how steadily I plant myself in the Lord’s word and will. How expectant am I of the opportunity to help another, to share the Gospel, to defend my faith? How confident am I of my peculiar abilities to take up those opportunities and allow others to see God through my words and actions? How consistent and untiring am I to find my own sustenance through doing His work?
I realize that I am often like an egret who hovers over the water but never strikes. I have solid purchase in God’s word. The good and true advice of strong Christian professors laps at my ankles; nevertheless, several years in academia went by before I began to consistently disclose to my students that I am a Christian. Now that I do tell them, they have an expectation that I will respond to their need!
Last month a student who would have graduated soon came and shared her misery. As she described her inner pleading with God to clearly understand His will, I understood that the answers I had received from God in my own, similar struggles would help her. We talked and prayed, I asked the Lord to help her focus on Him. I asked Him for confidence and courage to do the hard work of discernment. She had a firm purpose but had yet to learn to trust God’s provision for her need. The lesson of the egret was to prepare, and trust.
My early morning on the Alabama Gulf coast ended when the wetness and hardness of the sand insisted I stop basking in the glory of the sunrise and move. The egret never wavered; breakfast was still on his agenda!
(c) 2010 Diane Carver Sekeres