God is showing off today.  Not in a prideful haughty way.  The brilliance of His creation is on display, the electric aquamarine and azure of the Gulf of Mexico shouting His glory, all under the canopy of a sky of blue, and the subtle green arms of the sea oats framing my view.  The warmth of the bronzing sun and a gentle Gulf breeze complete an idyllic hour spent by the edge of the beach, coffee in hand, and pen to the page.  What an office is mine!

The vacationers and tourists dot the beach, the pearl white of their skin a beacon signaling they’re not regulars.  The other tip as to their visitor status is the way they spring into action at the sight of a pod of dolphins, cameras at the ready, with exuberance akin to a five year olds first visit to Disney.  The dolphins saunter by, surfacing just long enough to tease the frenzied white bodies fiddling with their camera equipment.  The beach going Neapolitans look up with bemusement and with a “been there, done that” smugness of those who have witnessed the measured elegance of this great mammal on a daily basis.  The unspeakable beauty of this beach has been our lives for thirteen years, and although I don’t jump up like the lily-white tourists to document the experience, I am always moved by their grace and elegance.

On Sunday after attending our virtual Internet church, we sat on this same bench and enjoyed this same beauty and made plans for our impending move to Nashville, to be part of that church family.  Our favorite bench directly under the canopy of sea oats was briefly occupied by an older gentleman with tiny bright yellow polyester shorts, unzipped to reveal what I hoped was his bathing suit.  He’s a regular, the leathery brown skin the give away.  Holding his substantial graying blonde hair from becoming too unruly was a faded purple bandana wrapped around his head.  My first judgmental thought was “what a kook, old hippie”.  As he peeled his too tight yellow shorts off exposing his, Speedo, I was praying the narrative wouldn’t change to old hippie pervert, as he started doing vigorous calisthenics clad only in his itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, black bikini.  He didn’t bother us, sitting a few careful feet away, and I was glad for that.  Kook.

This display of male prowess from yesteryear reminds me of another kook on the Naples beach.  This gentleman always sports a chartreuse bikini that offsets his formidable tan.  You can see this guy a mile away.  Once he gets within viewing range, I wish I couldn’t see him, because it’s a vision etched in my mind.  As he strolls by, the rearview image is as ghastly as the chartreuse suit, a thong no less, that is certainly one article of beach wear that should be sold with a disclaimer, “harmful to all who gaze upon this bathing suit that’s missing the two rear panels” (especially when worn by an eighty year old).  What the chartreuse thong revealed about the derriere of this guy was that his buttocks were untouched by muscle tone and exemplified an elasticity of the silly putty variety.  Look up the word “droopy”.

Before my brief respite on a favored bench under the sea oat canopy by the beach, my chores for the day included a stop at the restaurant supply store in the industrial section of town.  I wanted to get pricing on large insulated food warmers and coffee dispensers that are used in catering events, to potentially use in my church’s homeless outreach ministry in Nashville.  Teams of people go out at night and offer help to the homeless.  Not to preach, but to offer assistance, real tangible help. I thought it would be great to pull an old cart along and offer hot coffee, or perhaps a steaming hot cup of chicken vegetable soup for nourishment.  I’m so grateful our church is a community of people who with their very lives are committed to “thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”.  Heaven on earth, yes.  Their lives bespeak the good news that we are all the beloved children of God. There is so much faulty theology and an empty form of Christianity that ascribes to the “us vs. them” and “some are welcome in, and some are out” philosophy.  What does God really ask of us but “when I was hungry, you gave me something to eat, and when I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink.  When I was a stranger, you welcomed me, when I was naked you gave me clothes to wear.  When I was sick, you took care of me, and when I was in jail, you visited me”.  Jesus also said, “whenever you did it for any of my people, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did it for me”. With growing age and maturity comes the realization that more of life is behind me than lays ahead.  It certainly gives a perspective on whatever time remains, a sense of urgency to live a life of meaning in service to others.

My chores now complete I headed for my bench at 6^th Ave. beach.  Looking over at the other bench I see a homeless guy, worn by too many years on the street, disheveled, and languishing.  The tears choked in the back of my throat as I saw this guy slumped over, eyes closed, and I prayed.  Then it happened.  Remember the hippie kook with the black Speedo?  He comes walking by, smiles a big toothy smile and remarks, “isn’t it a beautiful day?”  He then proceeds to gently wake the homeless guy on the other bench and press a wad of rolled up dollar bills into his hand and says, “happy Thanksgiving brother”.  As he turned to walk away, that smile once again shined in my direction and he said, “great day isn’t it?”  Okay, by now I’m crying and reaching for my sunglasses so that no one can see that I am shattered to my core.  That was doubtless one of the most demonstrative acts of Christian living I’ve ever seen.  Sitting there by the azure blue Gulf of Mexico, under the canopy of sea oats, I just witnessed the hippie kook be the hands and feet of Jesus, and you know what? Jesus wears a Speedo.