I never wanted to swim in the ocean, and then I saw Hawaii’s ocean. Our whole Hawaiian trip threw me for a loop. Because it wasn’t what I expected. The truth is, my expectations were very low when it came to visiting Hawaii.

I know. How can a person expect the worst from these islands? Part of the problem was I didn’t want to go to Hawaii in the first place. My mom wanted to take our daughters to Hawaii, this was about ten years ago. My dad was going hunting in Argentina so Oma decided she needed to go somewhere exotic too.

“I don’t like the idea of you taking the girls to Hawaii by yourself,” I told my mom. “And it’s not fair to Luke. He can’t understand why he’s not invited.”

“Then you can all go,” Oma said in her General MacArthur mode. My dad nicknamed Oma “The General” years ago because she’s good at being the boss. “If your dad can run off to Argentina, we can all run off to Hawaii.”

So that’s how it happened. And I just plain didn’t want to go. Not with 18 month old John on my hip. Hawaii had never been on my radar anyway. Dragging four little kids to Hawaii with my mom and my husband sounded like no fun to me.

And I expected a beach full of beautiful women in itty bitty bikinis. I’d be wearing my momma tankini trying not to get a sunburn and not get embarrassed and not get all jealous if my husband noticed those beautiful women in bikinis. But I don’t remember one beautiful woman in a bikini in Hawaii. There were grandmas in saggy bathing suits, and German men in Speedos, which was really more than I ever needed to see, and average moms like me with their families, but no beauties nearly naked on the beach. Though my husband kept saying I was a beauty even in my momma tankini, and he chased me across the beach, and across the hotel, and across one gorgeous sunset after another, maybe because I was ovulating on that trip. Scott always chases me when I’m ovulating, even when he doesn’t know I’m ovulating. It’s so crazy. And I run as fast as I can because I don’t want to get pregnant again. I realize this is probably like German men in Speedos, just more information than you want or need, but this is what I remember about Hawaii.

Fertility.

Not only was I fertile in Hawaii, everything is fertile in Hawaii. And they drape you in leis as soon as your plane lands. These seductive smelling flowers around your neck and it seems like everyone just leaves all their good sense at the airport and tourists run across the islands intoxicated by the flowers and the sun and the sand. Plus fresh pineapple and pulsing Hawaiian music and coconut sunscreen slathered all over the place.

The sense of fertility is overwhelming in Hawaii.

Maybe this is why I swam in the ocean after swearing I never would. I was intoxicated by island fertility. And I guess I thought all oceans were created equal. Created wild and raging and cold and fierce, like Northern California’s ocean. I couldn’t get over the soft, blue clarity of that Hawaiian sea. So in I went not thinking about Shark Week, which I have to watch every year. Not thinking at all about my ridiculous fear of being eaten by a shark and pooped out into a raging ocean.

So happily, I’m swimming in the ocean. Over my head in Hawaii’s ocean. Out swimming near a surfer in Hawaii’s ocean. This 16 year old kid, at least he looked about sixteen, blond hair tumbling into his eyes, trying to catch a wave, when all of a sudden, the kid freezes. He frantically brushes his hair out of his eyes, then freezes on his surfboard. This kid seeing something. So I tread water trying to see something too. And then it rises, right between us, this big dark shadow rises. My worst fear coming true. Shark week coming true in Hawaii.

The kid flops down on his surfboard and begins paddling like mad for shore. He paddles right past me, looking at me like, Come on, lady! Get out of the water! While I am frozen there bobbing like I’ve already been bitten in half. Like I have no legs and cannot swim and off the kid goes to safety while I wait there for the shark to eat me.

The big dark shadow closing in on me, rising up like Jaws in slow motion, and I just cannot believe it. It’s like winning the lottery when you only bought one ticket. All your life only this one ticket and now you’re a millionaire but you’re about to be swallowed by a shark leaving that money for someone else to spend. I haven’t played the lottery since I gave my life to Jesus because that kind of money would just ruin me. I’d have to feed the poor and build houses for the homeless, and support John Piper’s Desiring God Ministry, when I’d really want to buy all kinds of things unbecoming for a Christian to own, like maybe an island in Hawaii where I’d be intoxicated by fertility all the time.

And here it comes, this big dark shadow cruising right up to me. The biggest sea turtle on the planet, swimming past me now and winking. I swear that turtle winked at me. Like, Hey girl, enjoy your life. Enjoy the ride. Enjoy this big, blue ocean. I’m no shark. I’m a magnificent sea turtle just brushing past, just here to remind you God’s got you. He really does have you safe in his everlasting arms so enjoy the waves, girl.

And these warm gentle waves wash me to shore where that 16 year old kid says, “Man, lady, you are one brave Mother–,” and he catches himself, like “Mother” is probably enough. And he’s looking at me like I am a shark whisperer, or a turtle whisperer, or an ocean whisperer. Something mighty and brave and powerful. More powerful than sharks or the ocean and I say to him, “Awe shucks,” like I’m a humble bumble.

Okay, I didn’t say, “Awe shucks,” I said, “It was a sea turtle. I even think it winked at me, laughing at you because you peed all over your surfboard getting out of there.”

Okay, I didn’t say that either. I only said, “It was a turtle.”

“I saw it was a turtle,” said the kid all down and out about it. Then his face brightened a bit. “But lady, that was the biggest turtle I’ve ever seen! I could see it from the beach. That was blanking amazing! You only see that once in your life!”

Actually, he didn’t say” blanking,” he said that other word, the one he wanted to tack onto “Mother.”

And I’m thinking, well, my life just flashed before my eyes. I thought I was about to die in the jaws of a shark, and instead, God sent an incredible sea turtle to show me his power and glory and love in Hawaii. 

And all around, Hawaii was just this amazing trip. And my low expectations made it all the more amazing. So low expectations can be a gift.

High expectations have always let me down. When I’ve gotten all amped up about something it never fulfills my expectations. Not once. It’s like coffee and wine and birthday cake. That first sip of coffee in the morning is everything. I really come at it thinking, I can’t live without this stuff. I have to have my morning coffee. This coffee’s going to make my whole day complete. And by the second cup, I can’t finish it. It just doesn’t taste good anymore.

I do this with everything.

Everything but God.

The more I have of it, the less it satisfies me. But God is so different. The more I have of God, the more I want of Him. Maybe this is all wrapped up in low expectations. Born and raised Catholic, I always expected God to make me suffer. Just this long walk of suffering with Jesus. Then, in my thirties, I met the Protestant God. This long walk of Jesus loves you. No matter what, Jesus loves you.

Now I’m trying to get to know the Living God.

Because there really is a Living God. Not a Catholic God or Protestant God, but a Living God. It’s not all about suffering. And it’s not all about Jesus loves the sinner and hates the sin so you’re safe even when you sin. It’s more complicated than that. More big and bold and beautiful and scary than all of that. Faith is like the ocean with real sharks and real turtles and real beauty and real danger and I’ve begun to lay aside my expectations.

And pick up the Bible with no expectations for a change. And walk into my day with no expectations for a change. And settle into this season of lent with an absolute lack of expectation for a change as I wait for Easter. Just letting it all go, saying, “God show me. I’m a little human being in a great big ocean and I really don’t know a turtle from a shark, so please show me what real faith looks like to You.”