Of Whales and Waiting

This past week we were blessed by some friends with a three night stay at a resort in Avila Beach.  On the first morning, I went down to a patio which overlooks the Pacific Ocean.  I took a book, some coffee and settled in to read, pray and sit in the silence.  It seemed like the perfect way to begin our stay.

Not long after I got comfortable, and before I had turned too many pages of my book, I heard the unmistakable sound of a whale breaking the surface of the water and clearing her blow hole.  I looked up from my book quick enough to watch the humped back of a whale dip back under the water, leaving behind only a froth of foam where her body had been moments before.

I put the book down and began to scan the water between the two piers, which were to the right and the left of my perch, to see if I might be lucky enough to catch another glimpse this majestic mammal.  In the next few minutes I discovered there were others with her, at least six, who were feeding on a school of anchovies, which luckily had decided to make its home for the day just off shore.

I would have imagined this would have been a fleeting spectacle, but it lasted all day long. For several hours that morning and for a few more in the afternoon I sat in the same spot watching the whales feed.  They not only broke the surface to take a breath of fresh air, they would also breach, jumping high into the air before crashing down onto the surface of the sea.  Sometimes, two and three whales would come up together, almost as if they were having a competition to see who could jump the highest.  They were probably engaged in bubble net feeding in which the whales work together to herd the fish into a smaller area and then swim up together through the middle of them with their mouths wide open, catching hundreds of fish in the process. 

I cannot tell you how beautiful and mesmerizing all of this was, or how powerful and yet unhurried they seemed to be.  I was content to simply sit and find joy in each sighting.

I was not the only one.  Eventually, crowds formed at the end of one of the piers and on the road below the patio where I was sitting.  When the whales would breach, a collective gasp of delight would rise from the people below me, or echo across the waters from those standing at the end of the pier. The whales would chase the fish around the bay in such a way that no matter your vantage point, everyone eventually had a front row seat.  The only way you could have had better was to be in one of the kayaks which were gathered underneath one of the piers.

I decided if the whales were in the area the next morning my daughter and I would have to see if we could not get ourselves into one of those kayaks.  They were, we did, and it was spectacular. 

Having had this experience did not keep me from returning later that afternoon to the same spot where I had first seen the whales.  I brought my book, but knew I would probably simply return to a posture of silently watching and waiting for what might appear before me.  While the whales were not nearly as active (at least above the surface) as the day before, they were still present.  It took a little more attentiveness but if you watched you would see the beauty, power and majesty of their presence. 

Not long after I sat down in my spot a husband and wife came and stood next to me.  A whale had just surfaced on the other side of the pier.  You could not see her clearly, but you could hear the strong exhalation of air clearing her blowhole. The wife was excited and pulled out her phone and began to try and get it set up to take a photo.  She told her husband she wanted to show the kids. Who would not want to capture the moment?

While she was fiddling with the camera settings a text came through.  She sat down at the table next to mine, facing me, not the ocean, and began a text conversation with whoever was on the other end of the data signal. 

The husband began to scan the horizon and got distracted by how many people were down at the beach and on the end of the pier.  He began making observations to his wife about these things, but she was blocking him out, typing something on her phone.

Just then two whales breached the surface of the water and slid back under the surface.

They did not see it.

Several minutes passed by and one of the whales came up for air and the husband pointed it out to his wife.  She casually glanced up from her phone, made a comment about it would not have been a good photo, and went back to typing.

The next time the whales breached the surface of the water I thought about drawing it to their attention, because they were once again distracted, but I decided not to.  I thought I would wait to see how long it would take before they put away the distractions, readied the phone for a photo, and simply waited.

Multiple times the whales either broke the surface of the water or breached, but the couple never saw them.  They would often catch a glimpse of the churning water left in the whales wake as it dipped below the surface, but not once did they share in the joy of seeing the complete cycle of the whales emerge from the deep, push towards the heavens and then recede back to where they came from.

I sat there thinking about the tension between how excited these two were to see whales and capture a photo for the kids and the fact they were unwilling or unable to be still and silent long enough to allow themselves to discover the dance which was taking place in front of them. 

 As I thought about this a thought occurred to me. I think when it comes to our desire to see and experience God, many of us find ourselves caught in the same tension as this couple.  We want to see, but we are so distracted that we cannot sit still and watch long enough to be able to allow ourselves to see what He is doing right in front of us.  How much we must miss by being distracted by what is on the periphery or busying ourselves because we cannot stand to wait.

I don’t know about you, but I do not desire to live like this.  I want to have my eyes wide open to see what God is doing.  I want to see it, be awed by it, engage in it and find the same kind of joy I experience while watching those whales. 

To take this posture is to simply see each moment as having the capacity to reveal something about who God is and what he is doing.  It is choosing to live in the present moment, recognizing this moment is the only point in time where we can actually have an experience of God.  It is having the faith that he is at work and if I can discipline myself to lay aside my efforts to make something happen and refuse to engage in the  distractions which take my focus of what I am experiencing in the present, I will see. It is being willing  to trust that God is at work, even if it is under the surface, and to be expectant there will be moments where we will see what He is doing break out above the water line.

It is this expectancy which teaches us to be silent and still, to learn to wait and watch, and to pull away from the distractions and simply be present.  I encourage you to pick a moment today and simply be present in it.  Lay aside the distraction, don’t do anything and simply watch.  Ask the questions: Where do I see God here?  What is he doing?  If you are patient, if you are willing to be silent and still,  I have a feeling you will be able to see.

Because this couple did not see what they had hoped for, they left after a few minutes.  While they left disappointed, I had sat there once again experiencing the wonder of whales dancing in the ocean before me. The only difference between me and them was the posture we chose to take.

Be still know…Psalm 46:10