Something I Heard in Ireland

Oct 28

I think God created me to be in places like Ireland.

We spent a few days on the west coast of Ireland for a surf retreat. As we entered Lahinch, a small town above seaside cliffs, a heavy storm formed, empowering a stunning view with the most intense wind I have ever felt. It pushed frigid water through clothing layers and constantly staggered my balance. It blew droplets sideways, lifting rain up the black cliffs below me. It crushed the sea into towering waves that dampened my shoes thirty feet above.

For those that live here, this gusting wind is constant. At one point during the storm, the owner of a woolen goods store wished me a good day. I replied, “Stay warm!” and she chuckled as if she knew I was only a visitor. There was little comfort in my well-meaning wish for warmth in a place like this.

Despite the chaotic vista, I noticed something very quiet when we landed here. Ireland’s hills, cliffs, pastures, rains, and waves resonate with my soul. It is as if I was made to be in such places. When my feet touch the island, my spirit harmonizes with creation, and a song emerges: “We belong here.”

In fact, my name “Esten” is written on these shores. It was first given by the Nordic people from places of such harsh beauty. My name means “island stone” — strong, unshaken, standing on the sea.

Hundreds of volcanic boulders protect Lahinch from the raging waters. When we first arrived, it seemed the ocean could soon reach the high-built town. But the tide receded hundreds of feet and revealed these steadfast stones. The stormy waters covered them again. Dark waves battered them through the night. Yet each new morning, they were unmoved, planted firmly on ocean bedrock.

I don’t feel compelled to tease out the myriad metaphors I felt on this shore concerning my name. But I will share how remarkable it was that my soul and my name resonate with this place like no other place I’ve been. Over the weekend, I couldn’t help but follow this constant pull to the sea at any chance I got. Alone on the shore, without people to hug or things to do, I still felt deep belonging.

In recent months, I’ve been pondering what it means to be human. Lahinch Beach confirmed to me that to be human is to be a part of creation. I have heard no better metaphor for this than music. Everything in this world sings a song of God’s goodness. Simply by my being here, I also contribute some notes to the tune. And when I pass that one tree I love, or feel the cool grass on my feet, or eat a slice of New York-style cheesecake, our melodies cross and become one harmony. Standing on the Irish coast felt to me like finding my place in a symphony.

We love the encouragement, “God has a wonderful plan for your life.” In fact, this phrase is on the first page of the booklet Cru uses to share the Gospel. The more I think about it, this kind of implies that God cares utmost about the events of your life (the plan), which I tend to disagree with. I wonder if we can refine this phrase, then, into something like, “God created you to belong with Him in creation.”

Take heart. God made you to belong, and he will bring you there soon.

If you’re interested, here’s a poem that has inspired my recent journeys. Feel free to check out Psalm 98 with some fresh ears for the music of creation, too. May you be blessed as you search for the places that cause your heart and your name to sing a new song.

The First Promise

Sometimes you need to hide

from everything you’ve

promised to become,

so you can find the first promise:

the one you and the soft world

sang to each other

down beneath the tall bushes

along the old streambed,

back when nobody knew

exactly where you were,

before the person