I started my storm day in El Segundo. That beach has special significance to me because of a baptism I did there. A friend flew in from out of state to be baptized. She toured several of the So Cal beaches and opted for that one because it was most exposed to the weather and had the most violent water.
Baptism represents dying with Christ and she was bound and determined to die big — a monumental change of season for her on that day.
I think that was only her soul reason. I suspect there is an amazing portal there and her spirit sensed that. When she stood on the beach and read her prepared renunciation, prior to being baptized, there was such a reaction in the spiritual realm that about 100 seagulls lined up in a semi-circle, three rows deep, in amazing order and reverence, listening intently while she read.
Seagulls are not known for order, reverence or silence. Unless, of course, God is present in which case, their ancient software kicks in and they know what to do in the presence of Majesty.
This beach directly at the end of Imperial Highway has had a strong draw for me ever since. It is not a popular beach, or an elegant one, but there is a raw intensity to in that I like. Considering all the skunk works in the city of El Segundo, I imagine the area is Prophet, although I have never explored the history.
Logistics were not in my favor, and I was not able to get where I wanted to go. I bumbled around for an hour or so, then decided to head south on PCH, listening for a nudge to head for the shore a block or two away.
The nudge never came, so when I hit the 110, I headed north to the 405, then south to the 55 and into Newport Beach. There is a restaurant on the end of the pier there which seemed like an option to be indoors and still see the intensity of the weather.
During this whole time, the rain was minimal. The weather man’s promises of rain for So Cal generally have about as much relationship to reality as national financial statistics produced by the Chinese government.
The wind, however, was steadily increasing. I walked through the light rain driven by a 20 knot wind to the end of the pier, but the restaurant was utterly not suited for my purposes. I walked back to the town, exploring options.
The three closest restaurants were closed or a dud, so by process of elimination, I ended up in one I would not normally choose. Lunch ordered, I leaned back to ponder.
So far, the day was OK, but hardly scintillating. Almost everything I tried had been a no-go. The weather was interesting but not gripping and certainly was not filling my tank.
The food was good. The restaurant small. On the wall opposite me, a large screen was playing some sort of competition for world class snowboarders. Classic California disconnect. Sitting in a restaurant that is beach themed, watching snowboarding.
I watched intermittently while decimating a plate of guac and chips. The athletes would meticulously check their gear at the top of the run, then push off the slope, pick up speed until they went off the edge of a man made cliff. While airborne, they would do remarkable acrobatics – each one, according to their own design.
God said, “Pretty extreme, huh?”
I agreed and waited, knowing there was more. After a while He asked, “How long has snowboarding been around?”
I hit the Internet with my cell phone and found out that there is considerable debate about who made the first one, but essentially, common usage of snowboards began roughly mid 1970s.
“Less than 50 years ago, Father.”
“For a very young sport, they sure have developed a lot of complexity, very quickly, huh?”
That started a cascade of data points being connected.
The culture was ripe for what we now call extreme sports. That sociological dynamic is a long discussion in and of itself. Interesting that The God Who Plans Ahead had me study that ten years ago. It was a readily accessible file.
And snowboarding was not regulated by any established rule making organization – there were no rule making organizations at the inception.
So the fortuitous junction of extreme social energy channeled through big spirited individuals in a context devoid of any man made rules (the laws of gravity still held sway!) allowed the rapid development of a new idea.
The science of board development raced ahead, with each year bringing innovations, when permitted new activities.
By 2,000 the cutting edge of the sport was to be dropped out of a helicopter onto a mountaintop that had no man made provisions for safety or direction. You snowboarded in blissful solitude down a virgin slope.
It was obvious God was not talking about snowboarding but about my project. There is such a need for this piece of science to bridge the gap between spirit and body. And when my first crude prototype is brought to the market, I think there will be massive engagement by the innovators in the Christian community, taking it through multiple iterations with amazing speed.
It was a deep confirmation from God that the time is right. It isn’t just the right time for me, because of my time line, but the culture’s time line also matters. This will explode.
I ponder the church’s obsession with having yet another Ruler season revival. I really wonder if God is actually sitting there aching to do yet another rerun of an old movie.
What if the Mercy season model involves bringing spirit and nature into proper alignment with the hidden colors of God’s wisdom that are embedded in the laws of science? What if the whole consternation over GMO and drug resistant infections and Zika and Ebola and myriad other science issues, all culminated in the Kingdom of God being advance by the believers who can use God’s hidden secrets in science to heal the disasters made by sinners’ violations of God’s principles in nature?
I don’t know if that is the new move or not. I just know I am going back to my research this week with renewed certainty that this is the time, and the Holy Spirit will be breathing on my efforts because the spiritual time line of world history is ready for this new idea.
After lunch the rain had stopped and the wind was topping 30 knots. I walked back out to the pier and watched the waves rolling in with delightful intensity. My soul luxuriated in the picture, but would have rather been on the water at the helm of an Ericson 39, running clean with the jib furled, mainsail reefed, on a beam reach with the lee rail awash.
My spirit was quietly savoring the massive force of the will of God behind this new project.
From home, where wind and rain have both subsided, but the fire in my spirit still burns hot.