Tag: Surfing

I suppose you can tell a lot about somebody by the shoes they wear. At dinner last night, we saw a guy walk by us wearing khaki short and sandals with knee-high tube socks. Without needing a full description, you were probably able to scrape together a picture in your mind of a late middle-aged Midwesterner with sunblock on his nose. I can think of these two friends that work in commercial real estate. They wear nice dress shoes most of the time. They are businessmen and influencers in their community—and their shoes are a dead giveaway.

Personally, I can’t wear anything other than running shoes. My feet don’t want anything else. I’ve been spoiled with cushy running shoes for too long. Work, church, casual; I am wearing running shoes. Why? Because I run.

You can tell a lot about somebody by their shoes.

So, here I am, straddling a surf board in Hawaii, the Big Island. The guy teaching me to surf is on his board next to me. And we are having a great time. He’s funny, intelligent, wildly intuitive with the ocean, and extremely patient with me. I’m learning well and catching small waves.

While surfing, a lot of time is spent sitting on your board, waiting for the right waves. As we sit, we talk. We have nearly nothing in common. But we both love to spend time outside. I run. He surfs. I live in Minnesota. He lives in Hawaii. We get along great.

“Here it comes. Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!”

I’m paddling and can feel the back of the board begin to lift.

“Stand up, stand up!” I hear him yell.

I stand up, shift my weight, bend my knees, and keep my eyes forward. Where I look, that’s where the board goes. I shift my weight a bit more to the front and have a great ride. Eventually, I bail and drag my tired body onto the board. When I paddle back to where I started, I catch my breath.  We go over what went right and what I can improve on.

During a lull, I ask him about his own life. Right out of college, he got a job as an accountant at some high society firm in San Diego. He had been living in the city and surfing whenever he could. But guess what? He hated it. After three brutal years of company servitude, his girlfriend convinced him to move to her home—Hawaii.

“I hated it bro,” he says, smiling through his sunglasses.

“You know what it was? It was the shoes, man. I just hated wearing shoes.”

I laugh and kind of understand what he is saying. He had been fed a common worldview that the American male should go to college, pursue a safe career, slave away his 20s, 30s, and 40s, then die of an early coronary behind his desk before he retired. I embellished about half of that, but you know what I mean. There’s this prevailing idea that a nice safe career, building retirement, and working for the weekend is the only good option in life. It’s a major problem in Western Culture. Few have any sense of passion in what they do. Fewer still are happy.

This once-accountant has taught surfing happily for over a dozen years now. He doesn’t need to wear shoes. And he is contributing positively to his life and community.  Many cry foul, saying that this man is wasting his life. But there’s something to be said for the guy who decides that the proverbial “American Dream,” for him at least, is actually a nightmare. There’s something to be said for the guy who gives it all up to gain something of greater value. He’s brave, not foolish.

I am reminded of a quote from a man named Jim Elliot. He and four of his friends were missionaries to an uncontacted people group in Ecuador. They were speared to death soon after they made contact with the tribe. Their goal was to share the best of news with them—that Jesus is the Savior of mankind, that God wants us to be brought from death to life, and that He is the forgiver of sins. There is a bright treasure in the person of Jesus Christ. God has a place for us with Him in heaven.

Jim Elliot wrote in his journal that, “he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose.”

Jim Elliot knew that if he was to give up the safe life, there may be risks. But living the safe life of milk toast tastes pretty soggy and bland when you’ve been confronted by a feast of treasure-treats and eternal delights. For Jim and his fellow missionaries, living the safe life meant that the tribal people of Ecuador would never taste those heavenly treats. Though they were killed, they laid the foundation for their wives and other missionaries to return and finish the work.

It’s hard to sit day after day, looking at forms and numbers, when there are gnarly waves and perfect coastlines calling out your name. Staying on the beach and playing it safe means that you won’t get crushed by waves. But you won’t get a fulfilling ride either.

Why stand on the beach, gazing out longingly to the sea?

Why wallow in the ordinary of this world?

Why wear shoes when you can tread barefoot with Son of God?

anthony forrest