South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 33 ~
Ocean City Church…Ann…Joey…Rest.
I sure do love Walmart. And I love sleeping in Tumbler. The
combo of the two last night catapulted me from the earlier-than-usual sound of
my alarm. A random church had been selected not because I did a thorough
research of it on the internet, rather because the name stuck out to me… Ocean
City Church. Other than making sure the theology was Bible based, I knew
nothing about the church. Apart from my home church, it would prove to be the most
bodacious, Jesus-loving building I’ve been to in years.
My backpack was left in my truck and I opted to look
somewhat normal with just carrying in my go-to Carhartt purse (a gift from my
sister-in-love). I put on a fresh shirt but kept my loose parachute pants on
that were rolled up to my calves exposing my weathered shoes and polka dot
socks. My sun-bleached hair was still straggly despite the morning comb
through. While walking up to the building that sits just a block off the ocean,
I smiled as I saw other people darkening the doorstep who looked very similar
in appearance to me. The people were beach-loving, surfing, sun-kissed,
skateboarding, hang-loose hand gesturing people. “Welcome! I like your shoes.”
The greeter opened the door and I thanked him. Normally, when going into any
place, I first head straight to the bathroom to acclimate. It’s just one of my
many weird quirks. Before I reached the ladies’ room, a woman walked over to me
and said, “Hi, welcome! My name is Ann.” --- “Hello Ann. My name is Katie.” I
walked a few more steps and paused by the coffee counter. Ann came over by me
asked if this was my first time here. “Yes, I’m traveling. The Spirit led me
here. It seems like a really cool church.” Ann and I talked for a while… about
many things. It went from surface level conversation to deep sea diving
conversation after 5 minutes. I also met her twin, Jill, and her sister, Beth. If
the service wasn’t about to begin, we might have stayed in front of the coffee
counter talking like we had already had 3 cups of coffee with an expresso shot
in each. Ann and I bonded right away… and we would deepen that bond the
following week over actual cups of coffee.
The music portion of church shouldn’t be what makes or
breaks someone from choosing a church. My home church is a mix of contemporary
and old hymns. It also has a full choir… I love to soak in the seat as the
harmonious songs are sung so sweetly. The worship music is the savory
appetizer. But it’s the preaching at my home church that is the main course of the
meal. As it was at Ocean City. The music was sweet… Spirit-led, powerful
lyrics, wide range of instruments. The worship leader jammed out on his guitar,
often bouncing around. He had on bright white kicks for shoes and a yellow flat
bill hat bent upwards. He was passionate in his playing and reverently devoted
in with his voice. He was in his God-entrusted element. I gave him a fist pump
as he walked by me after four songs. The pastor came up on the stage. He wore
jeans and a collared shirt with short sleeves that were tight against his
muscular arms. This guy was a surfer and he started the sermon with a surfer
analogy about being “fully committed.” This is when a surfer paddles with a
wave that is potentially bigger than his ability… yet he is all in and going
for it. The wave-loving guy or girl will do anything to catch the pocket and
ride it out till the end. They are willing to pay the price for the wave they
are pursuing. The pastor asked the congregation, “Are you willing to be fully committed
to Jesus and follow Him at all cost?” He read the story of Boaz and Ruth found
in Ruth 3-4. I was familiar with the story, yet the pastor brought out so many
great truths that went deeper into the way things were worded and the meanings
behind them. The worship band came back on the stage and started singing the
last song they had sang before the sermon. My, my, this song had lyrics that
sent shivers through my spine. Singing it the second time and after such a
hearty meal of a message, the words made more space to saturate my already full
spirit. “When death was arrested… and my life began. You have made me new, now
life begins with You.” I practically danced out of the building. Saw Ann
outside and she gave me a new-comers bag that had a black and white truckers
hat with a cool wave logo on it. I’ll surely be rocking’ this Oceans City
Church hat as one who had been given a new life. One of Ocean City’s mottos is
to “welcome everyone with ocean waves of grace” … they surely showed me this on
my first Sunday in Jacksonville.
Tumbler was moved a few blocks away to a parking spot that
didn’t have a 2-hour maximum limit. When I entered this sunny Florida city, I
loved everything about it… the look, the feel, the smell. This would be my only
day here, but He would lead me back down to this coastal city later in the
journey. A text was sent to a friend in Georgia and I would head her way in
three hours. But first, there was a rock to place in the hands of a stranger
who would become a friend.
My heavy backpack strapped tight, I headed towards the
beach. A cat with the name “Grits” etched on his collar tag, had been
befriended while texting my friend. After giving him some loving and a can of
sardines that were in my truck, we were buddies. Grits followed me for three
blocks and when I went to cross the busy street before the beach started, I
debated letting him continue to tag along. Grits followed me back to where my
truck was and I saw a lady washing her car in a nearby driveway. “Hey, this cat
rocks. He wants to go to the beach with me. Do you know what house he is from?”
--- “Oh my gosh! That’s my cat! He never wanders more than a few buildings
down. Thank you for bringing him back!” Grits would have made a cool feline
companion on this trip, but I was glad he had a loving home.
The ocean was reached, and I walked a little way down the
beach where a more secluded spot was found. Couples and families dotted the
shore. The temperature was warm, but only a few braved the still-cold salty
water. Some rocks were pulled out and I began to draw on one of them. It hadn’t
been more than 30min when a man with an oversized backpack was seen in my
peripheral vision. He gave me the street family nod when he was in front of me
and our eyes met. His forward steps stopped. “Mind if I sit down by you for a
bit?” --- “Yeah man, pop a squat.” His name was Joey. We sat there on the beach
for the next 90min. Joey was born in Tennessee, but had been a wandering
vagabond since he was a teenager. He had been to Jacksonville several times in
his travels and this particular passing through was on the way to Tampa where
he had hoped to find some work for a little while. Joey would hitch rides with
strangers and hop trains, hang out in a city for a for days or for a few months
if he could land a part-time job. When I told him this was my first time in
this area, he proceeded to tell me the lay of the land… hidden spots to sleep,
shelters, and what areas to be extra cautious around. He was graphic about
specifics and followed the warning with “I’ll be headed south tomorrow, but if
you want to crash at my spot tonight, you will be safer.” I thanked him and but
declined. It’s dangerous for anyone, guy or girl, to live on the streets. Joey
shared how he had been jumped last night and the two guys had hit him with a
2x4 board but it hadn’t knocked him out. “They messed with the wrong guy… I
beat both of them up as they tried to steal my backpack. The cops came and knew
about these guys who commonly rob people. The cop insisted I go to the hospital
and they super-glued my forehead. It’s gonna leave a cool scar. I have lots of
scars though.” Joes showed me some of his other scars and I showed him some of
mine. It was a perfect passageway into talking about Jesus. We fed some little
sand pipers crumbs from a granola bar and we talked about how we have been fed
“crumbs” from others throughout our life… yet those crumbs add up to meals. Joey
was handed a “Press Through” rock. I would have sat with him longer if not for
needing to head north to Georgia. Joey and I talked about how cool it would be
to merge paths in Tampa. For now, we merged in an embrace and gave each other
one last nod.
Tumbler was patiently waiting. His deep blue shimmered and
sparkled in the sun. Patting him on the hood, “Ready to cross another boarder,
buddy?” My friend’s house was a couple hours away and we pulled into her
driveway early in the evening. There would be homemade food, a real bed, and
ample quality time with a woman who have looked up to for 15 years. I was tired.
She provided a place to rest and a continuation of true and lasting friendship.
Press Through… even mere crumbs can sustain you.
Unshakable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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