No ocean vacations this year. Today, it takes visiting past memories to recall standing at the ocean’s edge watching the sun give its evening salute. One evening come to mind most easily. We were at Cannon Beach, Oregon. Each night of our vacation Gary and I made a beach trek from Tolovana Inn to Haystack Rock knowing this was the spot the be at day’s end.

But this night was different. A Coast Guard helicopter hovered overhead. An ambulance stood at the shore along with the sheriff of Cannon Beach and several hundred people. A few hours before a young woman had been rescued from beyond the surf. The man she was with had not been found.

The atmosphere was charged with dread and apprehension. A mother, seeing her child approach the seas, ran forward shouting “Get away from the water!”  Sand castles stood deserted.

The 23-year-old man’s body, although spotted at one time by air, was not found. Two days later the young man was listed as “missing and presumed drowned.”

While talking with the sheriff on the night of the drowning he said, “It happens every year. People just won’t respect the ocean.”

I think of life and how little respect we give it. Thinking it will always be there for us, bringing beauty and pleasure, we forget its supreme function. Life, like the sea, is continually moving, daily depositing new treasures at our feet. With the power of such motion comes ever present dangers.  Having a tendency to block that truth from our minds, we expect only good to come our way. Then, when tragedy strikes we cry, “Why? How could life play such a dirty trick?”

Unfortunately, we often place ourselves in jeopardy. We go “beyond the surf.”   Foolishly, we forget the rules or guidelines as you might prefer to call them – the Ten Commandments—and ultimately Jesus’ commandment, which He called the greatest of all that of letting love rule our lives.

Ours is a time when many give little thought, if any to God’s commandments. Seeing Him as a Commander instead of a loving Father, a different way is sought. When in truth, more than any earthly father, He treasures the life we breathe … our joy … our laughter, and gave rules seeking only to protect.

Living on earth involves risk; sometimes sorrow comes when we have taken every precaution. Then our Father is there to comfort and help us find meaning in the midst of the pain. But much of our personal sorrow comes directly from choosing situation ethics or the philosophy “if it isn’t hurting anyone, why not?” over the Father’s rules.

What a precarious choice – much like pitting one’s strength against the ocean’s surf, saying, “I’ll take my chances.”

A short time before Jesus was crucified He stood looking over what we call “The Holy City” and cried out, “Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem … How often I wanted to gather your children together the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but your were unwilling.”

Centuries come and centuries go. But there does not seem to be much change in the human heart. We still so often desire to go our own way as it seems plea-sureful and self-satisfying . . . yet, can carry the price of our own destruction.