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Praying about the flow of time: Wind and water

Lynne Baab • Thursday July 10 2025

Praying about the flow of time: Wind and water

The summer I turned 13, my brother, Mark, and I took sailing lessons. We had just moved onto Langley Air Force Base in Virginia, located on a small arm of Chesapeake Bay. First, they introduced us to a lovely sailboat with two sails and a spinnaker, similar the ones in the illustration for this post. Then they put us on a Sailfish, which is basically a surfboard with a sail. As we learned to sail, we capsized a lot. That arm of Chesapeake Bay had lots of jellyfish. Ouch!

The summer I turned 17, friends of my parents asked Mark and me to substitute for them in their sailing club while they spent the summer traveling. Their sailboat was a Sunfish, longer and thicker than a Sailfish, with an indentation in the middle where we could put our feet. On Saturdays that summer, Mark and I travelled all over the Puget Sound area to race with about ten other Sunfish. Puget Sound is COLD. We made sure we didn’t capsize if at all possible. At the end of the summer, one of the members of the club sold us their Sunfish, and Mark and I kept sailing on the lake near our house in Tacoma.

Those summers when I was 13 and 17, and the sailing I did afterward, taught me to watch the patterns of the wind on the water and the flow of the tide and current. I learned to feel the direction of the wind on my face, gauge the best angle of the sail, and trust that the sailboat and the wind would do their work.

When one of my favorite magazines, the Plough Quarterly, arrived a few months ago, I immediately dived into an article about sailing in Scotland. The author, British writer Adam Nicholson, reflects on the risks of sailing, yet the freedom to respond to the wind. One section of the article jumped out to me: 

“Most Western philosophy has turned to the solidity of the earth as a place in which to understand and feel good about life. . . . Western thought has been on a long campaign to establish ‘foundations’ for what it does. No thought can be valid without some meaty ‘groundwork’ having been laid. ‘Grounds’ are where truth is thought to begin.” [1]

He goes on to ask, what if we focused on sea and wind as metaphors for life, rather than the solidity of earth? Isn’t our life more like a journey or voyage than a solid, stable place? Nicholson reflects, “The search for ‘bedrock concepts’ would be over. No one would be interested in ultimate destinies. Movement and the voyage would become the thing. To leave would be as good as to arrive. We would stay mobile.” [2]

The Bible uses the metaphor of a foundation. Peter’s first letter says,

“As you come to him, the living Stone — rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him — you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: ‘See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone’” (1 Peter 2:4-6).

We long to know there is something solid when times seem to be constantly in flux. In Jesus’s love, we have that solidity. Jesus is our chosen and precious cornerstone. The Bible also uses metaphors of wind and the movement of water (see John 3:5-8, Acts 2:1-2, Isaiah 41:18, and 43:19, John 7:38). Yes, we can find a foundation in Jesus while also learning to feel the direction of the wind and watch for currents and tides. Nicholson, the British writer and sailor, writes,

“It is a question of trust, knowing that the boat’s hull and spars are good while knowing not to overload them in a wind. Knowing not to overreach but to treat the boat kindly and look for safety in the hope that the boat will treat you kindly in return. Being attentive to sea and wind, looking to be slow and careful in every move you make, every trimming of the sails, every tweak on the rudder.” [3]

I have observed that my desire for a solid foundation is often rooted in my desire to not have to trust God or be attentive to God’s guidance each moment. I want things to be solid, firm, and planned. Looking at life through the lens of water, wind, and a sailboat emphasizes that constant trust and attentiveness are required. Each day, each hour, I have to return my focus to my trustworthy companion, Jesus, who is present in the Spirit’s wind and water.

For this church season of Ordinary Time, I encourage you to imagine yourself in the sailboat of life, living ordinary days in response to the wind of God’s Spirit and the freshness of Jesus’ living water. That wind and water require attentiveness and trust. The Holy Spirit in us gives us the power to trust.

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Next week: more about Ordinary Time. Illustration by Dave Baab.

Related posts:

[1] and [2] Adam Nicholson, “Sailing with the Greeks,” Plough Quarterly, Spring 2025, 97.
[3] Ibid., 99



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