There is a certain kind of quiet stillness out on unknown waters that tempts you to be afraid. You think of everything you can't see below the surface of the water or hiding in the trees or waiting for you up ahead. There comes a moment when you desperately wish to go back the way you came, but it is too late.
Last weekend I found myself out on new waters in Broken Bow, Oklahoma for my friend, Sonja’s birthday trip. It had been raining all morning and the water on Mountain Fork River had risen. As I sat in my kayak full of water with my mind full of questions and worries, I pondered these things. Most days, my mind is half memory, half song, and at that time it played like a broken record: “No turning back, no turning back.” I had not thought of that sweet hymn in a long time.
I have decided to follow Jesus;
I have decided to follow Jesus;
I have decided to follow Jesus;
No turning back, no turning back.
What if following Jesus is not unlike being out on the water? Sometimes it is calm and it seems easy, and other times it is scary or difficult. The challenging days may be on still waters where unknowns abide, or in turbulent waters where we are reminded of how little control we have.
Out on the river in my little kayak, I was challenged many times. As I tried to find the rhythm between the water and my paddle, I was caught off guard by a rock that I could not see above the water. I struggled to push off of the rock without falling out of my kayak, and with some effort, I managed. It was not long before I hit another hidden boulder, and that time around, I could not free myself. One of our traveling companions, Caleb turned around and pushed my kayak forward for me. As we continued on, someone pointed out a snake on the river bank. Any calm that I might have had disappeared then, and from that point forward, I struggled to maintain my composure anytime the current carried me towards the river bank. In the midst of these troubles, there were moments of relative peace, and as I started to settle into the ride, the current picked up and I could hear a waterfall up ahead. I became more aware of my lifejacket and my inability to swim, and I wished very much that I could turn around, but there was no time for that now, and I braced myself for what would come.
The details between the drop and the events that followed are a bit fuzzy in my mind, perhaps because panic frays memory somehow. What I do recall is my kayak flipping over and my more-than-mild sense of terror as my head dipped below the water. I closed my eyes instinctively and panicked more because I could not see anything around me. I could not seem to get upright in the water and I feared everything that was or might touch me underneath - rocks and snakes and fish and trees. My head must have come up a few times because I knew that I was screaming and better still, someone could hear me. Another one of our traveling companions, Josh made his way to me and grabbed my hand. I don’t know how long he held on while I struggled to calm down enough for him to help me into his kayak (mine had long since traveled down the river without me). I do know that at that point I was crying (something I really try not to do in front of other people) and that even in my panic, I found a moment to worry about how horrible I must have looked with my hair wet and flat and my puffy crying face. Eventually, we managed to get me into his kayak, however ungracefully - I kind of rolled over and collapsed into it. I was tempted to stay there just like that.
I sat up and regained some composure, and Josh guided the kayak in the right direction. There was only room for one of us, and so for a good distance, he ended up swimming, until a few of our traveling companions were able to locate my lost kayak and bring it to him. For someone I really had not known before, from that moment he became someone I’ll never forget. Life is funny that way.
Later on, my friend Sonja came alongside me in her kayak. “I heard you say ‘Sonja I love you, but I hate this!’” she informed me. I laughed and I told her not to heed anything that I say when I am panicking. The funny thing was, I did not even recall saying that.
In the relative calm that followed, my mind amplified its song: “No turning back, no turning back.”
My trip to the landing was less eventful, although admittedly, there may have been more tears as the current carried me right into a bank and I could feel the trees touching me like ghostly hands reaching out for me. As we entered the landing and exited our kayaks, I felt great relief and a quiet little joy.
I have determined, that following Jesus is indeed like being out on the water. Having committed and come so far, it would be fruitless to turn around. As difficulties arise, Jesus will not leave me to myself, but help me through with His sacrificial love. Unseen obstacles will come up out of nowhere and seem to hold me back, but Jesus will help me to move forward. Snakes and other unpleasant things may come out of hiding when I lose my focus or life’s current seems to carry me adrift, but God’s strength will be made perfect in my weakness and nothing will keep me from the path He intends for me. Trouble will come suddenly and turn me upsidedown until I can’t seem to get my head above water and every passing thing around me feels like danger. Jesus will extend his strong arm and wait patiently for me to stop struggling and grab hold and be saved. And even as I am shouting “Jesus, I love you, but I hate this!”, He will not lose heart but encourage my spirit. The most challenging parts of the journey will grow me, make me stronger, and teach me how to trust Him, even when I fall short.
On more than one occasion, God has taken his people to the water to demonstrate His character, and grow their faith. He parted the Red Sea. He calmed the storm. He walked on water. He even allowed Peter to walk on water. It seems there is always something we can learn out on the water, and it will always involve trusting God. The journey will bring us closer to Jesus and end in more than relief or joy; the journey will end in glory.
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life.
-John 10:27-28a