Memory of God’s Love at the Bayou

It was a cool winter day on the backroads of the Louisiana bayou, filled with the smell of damp earth and cypress. Gusts of wind added resistance to my afternoon jog while obscuring the volume on my Bluetooth headphones, which blasted commentary from a Catholic podcast. 

A holy talk about God’s love took center stage in my mind, distracting me from my wheezing, melodramatic attempt to lean into the wind and jog faster. I did the classic quizzical dog head-tilt to the right as the priest quoted 1 John 4:8: “He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” This triggered a memory that transported me back to a “Life in the Spirit” seminar recently held for the young adults in the FMC community. 

I had been the first “greenhorn” speaker, delusional in my hopes to be original, entertaining, and perhaps even amazing to a room of Gen Alphas. They were barely out of their REM sleep cycles, lounging before me on couches in a classroom-style setup. I began my talk by placing a 96-ounce glass jar of water on a weathered chair at the front of the room. I handed out eight marbles, accidentally dropping one. Before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees, chasing the marble until I was out of sight. Slightly embarrassed, I peered out from behind a couch, straightened my clothes, and falsely blamed squirrels and ADHD for my strange behavior. 

I continued by asking each attendee to drop their marble into the jar. One by one, the marbles sank through the water and settled at the bottom. I pointed out the engulfing relationship between the water and the glass beads. I confidently declared, “God’s love is like the water surrounding the marble on every side, even when it hits the bottom. No matter how many marbles are dropped in, the liquid touches each one completely, without prejudice or favor.” 

I thought I had nailed it. I waited for a reaction, but I quickly learned that teenagers sometimes just stare when they are breathing. No one clapped; no one even reached for a tissue. “Tough crowd,” I thought. 

Returning to the podium, my heart skipped as I realized I still had fifteen minutes left. My heart started to beat at the rate of panic. I tried to quote scripture from memory, but my brain cells refused to “clock in” for work that morning. Self-reliance was failing me completely. I thought, “I need the Holy Spirit to land directly on my head like Pentecost.” Then it happened.

The Holy Spirit reminded me of a story about a dog named Buddy. I love dogs. I experienced my feet taking me in front of the podium, and thus began, “Let me tell you a story about a dog named Buddy who was on a cruise ship.” I kept my face serious, not wanting to seem condescending. I continued, “One day, Buddy was playing fetch on the top deck. His dad threw the ball a little too far, and it bounced right into the ocean—and so did Buddy. His dad panicked, begging the captain to turn the ship around. The captain refused, saying, ‘We can’t turn a cruise ship around for a dog.’ Without a second thought, Buddy’s dad made the sign of the cross and dove 250 feet into the Atlantic after his beloved dog. ‘Man overboard!’ the captain yelled, and that is when he finally turned the ship around.” Buddy, lost in the vast ocean, was barely strong enough to keep his head above the whitecaps. But as his strength failed, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. His father held him tight, treading water in the middle of the deep, dark sea.  

I looked at my students, who were finally leaning in. With depth and sincerity, I said, “I never knew a love like this until I met Jesus. Like Buddy, I can’t catch a ball to save my life, and I was once forgotten and afraid in an ocean of worry, doubt, and sin. But God’s love came after me, and I was saved.”

My memory was abruptly interrupted by a notification from my C25K app: “Your heartbeat is too fast; slow down a little.” 

When I finally snapped back to reality, I found myself jogging only slightly faster than a parked car, with “manly-eye-silver” pouring down my cheeks. I stopped running and took a deep breath, speaking out loud into the wind and the universe: “God is love. I am fully known and fully loved. I am heard, and I am not alone.” 

I knew then, more than ever, that my best life was following Jesus, who surrounds me with His love. My very next thoughts were expressed with another quizzical dog-like head tilt to the side: “Where… am I?”