On the Beach

BY WILLIAM JOHNSSON

The beach stretches out, inviting, in a sweeping, endless arc. Far in the distance a headland struggles to emerge through the spray of booming surf. White birds, silver in the sun, dive, wheel, and soar.

Istrip down to swim shorts and put t-shirt and Nikes in a cache just beyond the reach of the waves. Watch—off, tucked into one of the running shoes. Setting out for the distant headland, I take off. A glorious day, not hot, not cold. Blue sky shot through with fluffy clouds. Air on my face, fresh and clean.

Not a person on the beach. No one in the water. No one fishing. Just me, white sand, surf, and sky.

It is exhilarating, delicious. I jog a little, walk, splash through the clear water, dart up the sand as a larger wave builds.

On and on, breaking into snatches of song. The sky turns sullen. A shower sweeps over the beach. On my cheeks and torso the drops feel delicious. Sand, surf, and sky melt into a divine symphony and I am part of it.

Alone on the beach, but I don’t feel alone. I feel very close to the Maker of waves and sand and sky.

The rain stops, the sky clears. The headland is sharper now, but it is still far away.

Not this day; I turn back. It’s a long way back. I keep looking for my t-shirt and shoes, but they don’t appear. At last I spot them, wet and much farther along than I thought.

I don shoes and watch and walk up the sand dunes carrying my shirt, still rain soaked.

What a day! Unforgettable.

A gift, a simple gift.

A simple gift. Simply wonderful.

Of all the blessings that flow from the hands of our loving Lord, the simple gift of walking is one of the best.

English poet John Milton, famous for his epic “Paradise Lost,” also wrote a pair of matching poems that featured walking. In the first, “L’Allegro,” Milton describes the activities of a cheerful, gregarious person. When L’Allegro goes walking, it is among people and everyone sees him. The poem closes with these lines:

“These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live.”

In sharp contrast, the other poem describes Il Penseroso, a quiet, thoughtful

person. When Il Penseroso goes walking, he walks alone—alone with the sights and sounds of nature, alone with his thoughts:

“I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon.”

The final lines of this poem are:

“These pleasures, Melancholy, give; And I with thee would choose to live.”

So which of these characters was Milton? On one hand, he was a deeply religious person whose epic and other works arose from many hours of contemplation. Il Penseroso, then, was Milton? Not so fast! Milton lived in a time of religious ferment and played an active role in helping to shape society in a Christian direction. In these activities he was L’Allegro rather than Il Penseroso.

It seems that Milton was both characters of his matching poems. He liked solitude, was happy being alone, but he also enjoyed interacting with society. He didn’t just observe, he entered the fray.

In these two characters, L’Allegro and Il Penseroso, I see images of life in America in our times. I see myself also.

To get their exercise, some people have to find a group to join. They walk or run with several people. Perhaps they join a gym, where sweating bodies, grunts, pedaling bicycles, and clanking weights rule the air.

Others, however, prefer to work out alone. They get up early and head for the track or the gym. They run long distances, see the sun come up, and go back home when other folks are waking up. They are happiest to do it all on their own.

And I? I have been walking and running for most of my long life. Although I haven’t kept a log of distances, a conservative estimate of the total would be more than 50,000 miles—more than twice around the world. And none of it has been in a group setting.

I don’t need a group to motivate me; I get myself up and go out. I enjoy getting up and going out. And I don’t like a group or anyone pushing me along at their pace: I much prefer to go through life at my pace. I do it my way.

On my own, I can burst into snatches of a song because the endorphins are

pumping and I feel elated. On my own, I can lift my heart to the good Lord who gives me the freshness of the morning. On my own, all sorts of ideas come from somewhere in my head. Like the idea for this book—it “arrived” during a walk.

Yes, I must be Il Penseroso.

Not quite! For many years and nowadays always, I have someone with me: Noelene. She and I walk together. Most mornings you’ll find us on our well-trod loop in the quiet stretch of Loma Linda, in Southern California.

Year round we walk: bundled up on frosty January mornings when the mountains wear a new white scarf; in shorts and light shirt when rain turns the world green; early on July mornings before the sun’s rays burn holes in our backs; on and into fall’s season of mellow fruitfulness.

Sometimes we talk, often we stay silent, but always we are in the communion of lifelong lovers.

Years ago, when we both carried heavy responsibilities, evening worked best for our walk together. For some time, my enjoyment was muted by Noelene’s recounting of the cares and problems of her day. I felt annoyed: I dealt with plenty of issues myself and needed a break from problem-solving.

Crazy man—so slow to get it. Noelene didn’t expect me to solve her problems; she just wanted me to listen. And I learned to listen, to just enjoy being with her as she processed her day with me, a silent listener. Walking together—praise God for this simple gift of grace!

Now, a question for you, my friend: Who is the greatest walker of all time? I’ll tell you who gets my vote. Not someone who won an Olympic gold. Not someone who walked across continents. Someone who walked off the map, who walked off the world.

We read about this person in the Bible: “Enoch walked steadily with God. And then one day he was simply gone: God took him” (Genesis 5:24, MSG).

Walking, walking with God. Walking until at last Enoch was closer to God’s house than to his own. Walking until heaven came down and merged with earth, and time became eternity.

From the book Simple Gifts, soon to be released by Oak & Acorn. The book will be serialized during the following months. See page 41 for information about how to get a pdf copy of the entire book.