Crunching through the snow and sand barefooted, I braced for my icy ocean plunge.

Early January at the New Jersey shore. Two degrees above zero. My wife told me not to go alone. My doctor friend told me not to go at all. I remember something about a heart attack and maybe hindering my ability to have kids.

But my wife was all snuggly in bed. My doc friend and his wife were sleeping too. A silent bed-and-breakfast. Perfect for sneaking away undetected for an icy adventure.

I left the car idling by the beach with the heat on full blast (I knew I’d appreciate it later). Throwing a towel around my neck, I walked onto the windy beach in sneakers, sweatpants and sweatshirt.

I picked my point of no return and slowly stripped down to my bathing suit. I looked around quickly, hoping to see someone to share my insanity with.

Deserted. A deserted beach in January? Imagine that. Exactly what my wife didn’t want. “What if you have a heart attack?” She was starting to make sense.

It was do or die. So I took off sprinting toward the choppy ocean waves. The sand shot up from under the snow as my feet broke through and grew numb. I dove head first into the winter water.

I stayed in the water long enough to figure out I needed to stay submerged to stay warm. Warm? Well, not as frozen. Warm was a relative word at this point. The frigid air made the skin much colder.

I also stayed in the water long enough to know this was a short-term fun idea, long-term bad idea. So when I felt I was in long enough to be legendary, I bolted back for my towel. Still soaked and with frozen hair, I threw on my sweats and dove into my heated car.

I couldn’t feel the heat. I was a human popsicle with a fleece wrapper. It was the 30-minute shower that brought life back to my bones. That’s when the house woke up and I told my legendary story of braving the icy ocean alone in January.

The response was sadly – tepid. But in my mind, I received a trophy equal to a Phelps’s gold medal.

It’s a whole different story early June on the Jersey Shore. You dip your toe in to get a feel for the water’s temp. Even in June the water can be a tad shocking.

But as you ease yourself into the water – ankle deep, knee deep and then over other critical body zones– eventually you get used to the temp and the frolicking begins.

Early January or Early June? The plunge or the toe-dipping? How do you approach new situations, new people, new ideas?

I don’t think one approach is any better than the other. Sometimes the only way I can get through certain situations is to take the plunge and learn to survive. On other occasions, I dip my toe in and take my time getting used to the situation. I may be knee deep in newness before I feel comfortable going further.

You may feel what you experience at LifeIsBestWhen is pretty shocking or new.

How the spiritual can be practical may be a brand new idea for you. How an individual can develop a personal friendship with God may be shocking to you.

That’s cool. It’s OK.

You can take a plunge or just dip in your toe. I want you to discover this ocean of understanding – understanding yourself and your life in view of God’s love and His principles for living life at its best.

But standing still and staring at the ocean from the beach won’t get you anywhere. You have to take a step.

I had no idea what to expect when I took the polar bear plunge in January. But I’m glad I did. And you never know what to expect from the Jersey Shore in June. But eventually, you get used to the water.

Don’t just stand on the beach and watch others having fun. Take your next step and see what this ocean of God has to offer you. Life is best when you take that scary but bold step toward change.

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