Troubles Swept Away

Actual footage of the “paper” coming back for a second round…

It was probably the best beach day we’d had since arriving in Perdido Key — the perfect day for salt water and soul work. It also happened to be my last day there before heading to the next destination on my 30-day sabbatical. I’d been looking forward to this trip for so long. I didn’t know exactly what I’d do with thirty days of freedom — nor did I know what my husband would do with our dog Howard without me — but I knew I needed at least four things: rest, fun, fun (yes, I meant to say it twice), and some deep, intimate time with God. Jared and Howard, on the other hand, needed prayers to survive without my wonderful wisdom…it’s truly a gift I give them…

After church that morning, I drove to the beach to drop off some of my worries — to literally send them out to sea.

About a week earlier, I’d written down everything that had been weighing on me: my struggles, temptations, and all the tangled-up things that had been standing between me and the Lord. I’d carried them far too long. They’d become a burden. At this point, I was ready — really ready — to let them go.

It’s strange how tightly we cling to the things we think are “good” for us, only to realize they’re just… not. They’re faulty substitutes. As I drove toward the ocean, I thought about how often we put things before God — things that seem shinier, easier, more satisfying in the moment. We chase them, hoping they’ll fill the voids inside us, but they never do. Without Christ, nothing truly fills our ache.

Romans 8:2 says, “For in Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set you free from the law of sin and death… in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.”

In Jeremiah 3:1-3, God says,

“But you, Israel, have given yourself as a prostitute to many gods. So what makes you think you can return to me?” says the Lord. “Look up at the hilltops and consider this. Where have you not been ravished? You waited for those gods like a thief lying in wait in the wilderness. You defiled the land by your wicked prostitution to other gods. That is why the rains have been withheld and the spring rains have not come. Yet in spite of this, you are obstinate as a prostitute. You refuse to be ashamed of what you have done.”

Reading this passage wrecked me a little. By holding on to their “prostitution,” Israel literally lost the favor of God — the rains, the showers of blessing. I imagine instead of experiencing God’s favor, they felt worry, doubt, fear of getting caught, emotional entanglement, and an unsettled distance from the God they once knew deeply.

Later in the chapter, God calls Israel to return to Him. He declares His unfailing love and promises restoration — a right-standing relationship renewed.

We as believers often follow the same pattern. Scripture shows us how we act like brazen prostitutes — giving ourselves to lesser loves, defiled and faithless — and yet, He still takes us back. Every. Single. Time. Grace upon grace upon grace. What a God.

When I reached my favorite spot — Beach Access #3 — I found a stretch of sand all to myself. A whole mile of peace. I took out the crumpled piece of paper I’d written on a week earlier, full of all my burdens and confessions. I folded it up, prayed, and cried out, “God, please take these things from me.”

It was one of those holy, Ebenezer moments — a marker in time I’ll never forget. As Andrew Murray writes in The Life of Obedience, God calls us to “unreserved obedience.” I think I finally understood that. It takes so long to get there sometimes, doesn’t it? But the more you know Him, the less you want to hurt Him — and the more unreserved you become.

So there I was, standing barefoot in the sand, holding that inked filled paper full of my messes. I tossed it into the waves. (If anyone happened to find it, I was completely at peace with that — no names or situations were mentioned, and no fingerprints could be scanned to protect the innocent...)

And then — wouldn’t you know it? — it came right back to me.

The tide pushed my paper to my feet, as if to say, “You sure you’re done with this?” I laughed, realizing the irony of this. Isn’t that just like us? We give our junk to God, and then we take it right back again.

So I picked up my drenched paper, tossed it farther this time, and said, “Okay, God. For real this time. It’s Yours.”

And slowly, I watched it drift away.

Not all at once — but little by little.

Until I couldn’t see it anymore.

That’s how surrender really works, isn’t it? The things that once held us so tightly don’t disappear overnight. But as they drift farther and farther away from us, something beautiful happens — the distance between us and our burdens makes room for a deeper closeness with Jesus. God fills the distance between our messes and us with His presence and authority.

The further our messes drift, the closer we get to Him. And that’s the place we all want to be.

May we see our burdens, entanglements, and fears, move further away from us — and may we see God move closer still.

From a traveler just passing through…