Today’s Sunrise and Tomorrow’s Wave

Are you preparing for tomorrow’s pain? Life contains both beauty and risk. Can you inhabit the present moment without appointing fear as the narrator of the future?

This morning I found myself thinking about the ocean.

I love standing on the shore and looking out over its vastness. There is something about the horizon stretching beyond what I can see that quiets my soul. The ocean reminds me that I am small, and strangely, that feels like relief.

For much of my life, I have carried things that were never meant to fit inside human hands.

The future.

The people I love.

The finances.

The dreams.

The unanswered questions.

The things I cannot control.

The ocean reminds me there is something bigger than me.

But as much as I love the ocean, it also unsettles me.

Because beneath all that beauty lies mystery.

Depth.

Things I cannot see.

And if I’m honest, I realized recently that part of me doesn’t just believe difficult things can happen.

Part of me believes they will.

That realization led me down an unexpected path.

Preparing For Tomorrow’s Pain

I began thinking about how often I spend my days preparing for tomorrow’s pain.

Not consciously.

Not intentionally.

But quietly, in the background.

My mind scans the horizon.

What if something happens?

What if the diagnosis comes?

What if the dream falls apart?

What if the person I love suffers?

What if the thing I’m hoping for never arrives?

I discovered something surprising.

The problem isn’t that I acknowledge pain exists.

Pain is part of life.

The problem is that I often promote pain from a possibility to a certainty.

I start living as though the shark attack is already scheduled.

And once that happens, the future becomes something to defend against instead of something to enter.

Has the Preparation Actually Protected You?

To expect goodness the way we expect pain seems irresponsible.

Somewhere inside, our nervous system has created an equation:

If I expect pain, I will be prepared.

If I expect goodness, I will be blindsided.

Has the preparation actually protected you?

Not from being surprised.

Not from being disappointed.

But from suffering.

Did bracing stop the pain?

Did anticipation lessen the grief?

Did carrying the weight ahead of time lessen the burden?

Did expecting disappointment soften the heartbreak?

I don’t think it did.

But I suspect that what it may have done is make sure you suffered twice.

Once in anticipation.

And once in reality.

Responses To Fear

What struck me as I have become more aware of how my nervous system has been planning for pain, is how fear has quietly slipped in disguised as my protector, offering me a false sense of safety.

There seem to be two common responses to fear.

One is vigilance.

The other is denial.

Vigilance spends its days scanning for sharks.

Denial insists there are no sharks.

Neither one is free.

Neither one is actually enjoying the ocean.

One is consumed by fear.

The other is consumed by pretending.

But there is a third way.

A wiser way.

A way that says:

“There may be sharks somewhere in this ocean. There are also dolphins, whales, sunlight, waves, salt air, and beauty. Today I am standing here, and this moment is good.”

That isn’t denial.

That isn’t fear.

That is presence.

It is refusing to let fear become the official spokesperson for the future.

The truth is, most of us don’t know what tomorrow holds.

We never have.

Yet somehow we often act as though we do.

We write endings to stories that haven’t happened.

We grieve losses that have not occurred.

We brace for waves that have not yet reached shore.

And in doing so, we miss the sunrise unfolding right in front of us.

The more I sat with this, the more I realized something important:

I do not need to become a positive thinker.

I need to become a present thinker.

I don’t need to convince myself that bad things won’t happen.

I need to stop living as though they already have.

Training the Heart to Remain Present

For those of us who have spent years carrying responsibility, this doesn’t happen overnight. Fear is not usually defeated by information. It is retrained through experience.

I’ve been learning a few practical ways to loosen fear’s grip.

1. Refuse to let fear write the ending

When my mind starts running ahead into tomorrow, I’ve begun gently asking:

“What else is possible?”

Not because I’m trying to force a positive outcome.

But because fear tends to act as though it already knows the future.

The truth is, I don’t know.

There may be grief ahead.

There may also be unexpected joy.

There may be loss.

There may also be healing, connection, laughter, beauty, and miracles I cannot yet see.

I am learning to leave the story unfinished.

2. Collect evidence of God’s faithfulness

For years I looked for evidence that pain was possible.

Now I am learning to look for evidence that God has been faithful.

Not faithful because He prevented every wound.

Faithful because He never abandoned me in them.

I look back and see moments that should have hardened me but didn’t.

Seasons that should have destroyed hope but somehow didn’t.

Places where grace carried me farther than my own strength ever could.

My nervous system needs those reminders.

Not theology alone.

Receipts.

3. Practice small moments of non-bracing

This may be the hardest one.

When I sit on the porch with my coffee.

When I read a book.

When I listen to the birds.

When I stretch out on a blanket and watch the clouds drift by.

I practice telling myself:

“Nothing needs solving right now.”

Not forever.

Just for this moment.

I am learning that rest is not irresponsibility.

It is trust.

4. Anticipate goodness

For years I rehearsed what could go wrong.

Now I am learning to look forward to things again.

A lunch date.

A walk.

A good book.

An anniversary trip.

A garden in bloom.

A conversation with a friend.

These things are not trivial.

They are reminders that goodness belongs in the future too.

Fear does not get exclusive rights to tomorrow.

5. Invite God into the bright and sunny

For much of my life, I invited God into the hard places.

The tears.

The questions.

The disappointments.

The deep crying out to deep.

But lately I have realized something.

I can invite Him into the bright places too.

Into my coffee.

Into my laughter.

Into a novel.

Into the ocean breeze.

Into a beautiful sunset.

Into the dreams that make my heart come alive.

Perhaps safety is not only discovered when God meets us in suffering.

Perhaps it is also discovered when we learn He delights in joy.

Learning to Live Again

I don’t think the goal is becoming fearless.

I don’t think the goal is convincing ourselves that life is safe.

Life has never been completely safe.

The ocean contains storms.

It contains waves.

It contains things we cannot control.

But it also contains breathtaking beauty.

The question is not whether uncertainty exists.

The question is whether uncertainty gets to steal today.

I don’t want to spend my life standing on the shore scanning the horizon for danger.

I don’t want fear to keep me from loving deeply, dreaming boldly, laughing freely, or stepping into adventure.

I want to suck the marrow out of life.

I want to notice the whales and the dolphins and the sunlight dancing on the water.

I want to be fully present to the gift of this moment.

The dark and lonely.

The bright and sunny.

All of it.

Because maybe trust is not confidence that nothing painful will ever happen.

Maybe trust is allowing the story to remain unfinished.

Maybe trust is learning to leave tomorrow where it belongs and receive today for the gift that it is.

And maybe trust is slowly learning that you don’t have to spend today’s sunrise defending yourself from tomorrow’s wave.

“Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:34

“This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

“Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.” Lamentations 3:22-23

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.” Psalm 56:2

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God.” Isaiah 41:10

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” Proverbs 3:5-6

“I would have lost heart unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” Psalm 27:13

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him and who are the called according to His purpose.” Romans 8: 28

In everything you do -eat, play, and love- may it always be seasoned with Joy!