Return to Smith's Cove

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” Such was the thought of le Commandant Cousteau, lover and friend of the Ocean. Jacques Cousteau saw the ocean for what it is: A giver of life. It’s no wonder that the glory and power, and yet the peace and tranquility, of this great body of water can excite the notions of God within people. Perhaps the Great Creator designed the ocean to represent His passive-aggressive attributes. Or on the other hand, perhaps the ocean shifts simply according to gravity and the rotation of the earth. Regardless, the ocean has an uncanny ability to draw individuals and groups of peoples to its edges for life’s most celebrated and contemplative moments.

Both mountain and sea have successfully cast their spell on me. As my current state is on an island to the ocean I go. Two weeks ago I returned to the twofaced shores of Smith’s Cove of which I described in my last blog entry. Clouds roamed the sky that day but allowed the sun to shine through from time to time. A soft breeze accompanied the warm air and undulating ocean. Kids and adults laughed and played both in and out of the water. Such a picturesque day was to be the setting of a series of small but memorable events.

I made myself comfortable on the beach and quickly found myself immersed in the saga of Jason Bourne via The Bourne Legacy. My concentration was interrupted as I noticed a stranger videotaping me. This stranger laughed and said she was going to show all the girls at work. I soon realized the stranger was a girl that worked in one of the neighboring stores. Once again back in the misfortune that surrounds Jason Bourne I was once again interrupted; this time the interruption came via a little wet puppy desiring my attention and warmth. Unwilling to go back in the ocean as its child owner insisted it stayed by my side only to leave for a short time and quickly return. Fortunately, the dog brought further interruption in the form of attractive European girls that found the young pup adorable.

The biggest interruption-for the lack of a better word-came as a small congregation, of what I deemed as Baptists, came singing and praising Jesus. With no intentions of being stereotypical, this group reminded me of Black Southern Baptists. Man, woman, and child were dressed in their Sunday best. With rolled up pant legs the pastor stood on the beach feet in the sand where the tide would drift up and drift away. Following suit, the men in the congregation were shoeless and their pant legs were rolled up. The women wore colorful dresses accessorized with beautiful Victorian and Edwardian hats. The music sung was boisterous, hearty, and jubilant. “Can I get a testimony,” shouted the preacher between songs. “Praise Jesus,” cried the heavy set lady in the front. And of course the occasional “AMEN” was bellowed out.

Shirtless, and certainly underdressed, I watched for fifteen odd minutes as the small congregation sung and testified. I also watched with envy as fellow onlookers, also underdressed in swim shorts and bikinis, videotaped and photographed the affair, wishing I had a camera to capture the moment.



Eventually the preacher led a young girl, seemingly in her twenties, dressed with the traditional white baptism garb, into the water. Prior to doing so the congregation prayed. The prayer giver prayed for the currents to not sweep the preacher and girl away into its depths. Fortunately it did not. God must have heard the prayer. More rejoicing and praise unto God continued as the preacher baptized the young girl “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”



The congregation dispersed, singing as they did so. Beach goers returned to their play and to their relaxing. I returned to my Jason Bourne saga unaware I would return to Smith’s Cove the next week for another celebration of life.



Evolutionists would have us believe that life started in the ocean; at least that’s what I get from the poster depicting evolution. The Bible would have us believe that God gathered the waters in one place on the third day. Afterwards He filled the seas and the skies with life. Regardless of the explanation people are drawn to the ocean for life. Baptism represents a new life, a new birth, as does marriage. One week later I would end up on the same beach, almost as if it were holy ground, surrounded by friends, dressed in my Sunday best, including khakis with rolled up pant legs and bare feet, to witness the beginning of a new life for Bruce and Rosa.



Le Commandant Cousteau so keenly observed that “The sea, the great unifier, is man's only hope. Now, as never before, the old phrase has a literal meaning: we are all in the same boat.” And so it is the Hawaiian proverb that we must heed and “never turn [our] back[s] on the ocean.”