At The Beach…

…there are no perfect shells
Well, maybe there’s rarely one,
But most are broken and battered
And bleached by the white, hot sun.
Many wash in and go back out
The ocean just won’t let go,
Others remain and cling to the sand
And might move with the tide’s ebb and flow.
They are pretty and plain; all of them are
Unique and interesting to see,
I’m reminded by them and picture that God
Might see shells as He sees you and me!
We’re broken and battered and weak on our own
Tossed about on the waves of our lives,
God settles us down and anchors our souls
When we cling to Jesus Christ.
Shells in the sand will move all about
And be snatched by weather and man,
We, too, will lose our mooring
If on Christ, we don’t firmly stand!
God created the shells and what grows within
He created the people He loves,
But He sent Christ to die only for man
And it’s that, shells make me think of.

O come, let us worship and bow down;
let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.
Psalm 95:6

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