It was the June before sixth grade. My mom had remarried a man we barely knew and left for Europe for six weeks. My three sisters and I were divided into two groups and sent to stay with distant cousins for the summer. Various excursions were part of the bribe to take two of us into custody; a makeshift family vacation. With that single vow exchange, my days spent playing along the riverbed came to an abrupt end. Before I knew what was happening I found myself swept from shore into the deep waters of life: a treacherous current beneath the surface threatening to pull me under.
That summer my cousins took my sister and I rafting in Colorado. Each person in our group was given a life-vest and told to follow the instructions of the guide no... matter what. Pulling out his safety manual he began to lull my enthusiasm to sleep. My body popping with various movement unable to control my excitement. On the banks up river at the beginning of the journey everyone agreed on following orders. "Yes, yes!" I replied while leaping into the raft. Shoving off into the water my stomach swarmed with anticipation. I sensed I was in for the journey of a lifetime!
This was an adventure I had never experienced before. The fast flowing water was inviting and I pondered what my experience on the river would be. The youngest of our group I escaped the work and pressure of paddling, which of course, my older sister felt need to use as a weapon to taunt me. For once, I ignored her. I found myself instantly taken with the ride. I could feel the force of the water at times through the bottom of the raft but I was not afraid. Naively, I placed my faith in a foundation of rubber. Gliding through a diverse landscape my eyes roamed upon the shore taking in the beauty around me. I became the official greeter of our group as I shouted and waived, "Hello," to every poor soul stranded on the beach. Life on the river was grand!
A wall of Spruce sprang up before us prompting my sister to ask, "Is the ride over?" Laughter filled the boat before someone chided, "So soon? Of course not! There's a bend up ahead." My sister's head turned to the shore feigning sudden interest in spotting wildlife. The guide began to give instructions, his casual voice now like a bark. The muscles in his legs flexed and his jaw set. His expression serious and resolved; he looked like a gladiator before entering the Coliseum, tense and ready for action. So taken with the change in his disposition I forgot myself and for a moment I believed I heard the roar of the crowd. His eyes, fixed straight ahead, conveyed a warning and I soon realized there was more to river rafting than fun.
The serene and tranquil water became disturbed and the river roared as she and her bits of earthly cargo smashed against the rocks. I stopped waiving and grasped hold of the safety line as everything around me faded into nothing. The mighty river was all I could see. Our guide continued hollering directions as our insignificant raft approached the turbulent battle between water and land. I was for the first time aware of how powerless and small I truly was...and how much in need. I closed my eyes and held on for life.
On the south side of raging foam I gave my young heart to our guide...my savior.
New awareness of the dangers that await us down river, I began questioning the skills of those aboard. My cousins were weak and self serving. My sister was but a child like me. The guide was my only hope for survival. I watched him intensely. Victory after victory built my confidence in his leadership. I began to enjoy the journey once more. Somewhere along the way the waters depth diminished. The rounded stones and pebbles zoomed near and I marvelled at their individuality until we abruptly came to a stop. We were on a sand bar. Instructions followed that put everyone into motion. I did as told and stepped out of the raft. The water was ice cold and pricked my ankles until they were pink. The pace was swift, everyone pushing the raft towards deep water. My small stride struggling to match theirs. With a mighty thrust they were off and I was left standing alone on the edge of the sandbar. My sister's mouth agape as our cousins pointed fingers at one another. The guide shouting...something...my ears were too plugged with fear to comprehend. I was literally, up a river without a paddle - or raft for that matter - my savior tragically drifting down stream. I would have to brave this part of the journey alone.
From that point on tragedy after tragedy created a tumultuous river I was destined to travel; "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be," (Psalm 139:16). Young and inexperienced I was barely able to keep my head above water, let alone swim. Out of desperation and sheer will to survive, I frantically fought the white caps. Emotionally terrified I made every attempt to swim to shore. Unfortunately, the countless river bends drug me back into the rushing water before I could catch my breath or cry out for help.
When I look back I still marvel at my arrogance to believe I had what it takes to navigate myself through the rapids of life. Every time I was bashed into another boulder on my way through the rolling water, I not only cursed but determined to try harder. I wish I would have learned sooner the value of my rafting vest. It was Jesus Christ, the life preserver designed to keep my head above water. However, I was as unfamiliar with Jesus as I was with the bright orange contraption about me.
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you." (Isaiah 43:2NIV)
It wasn't until I faced a class four rapids that I came to realize that I was in eternal danger and in need of rescue. Instinctively, I prayed to God for help, like a million before me: desperate to save ourselves from the great eternal fall which leads to the Lake of Fire. In a flash I finally understood them both, secured the vest around my torso and found rest for the first time in my life.
I would love to say at this point in my journey life became a casual drift upon a smooth stream, but that would be a lie. In my moment of surrender I secured my eternal destiny, as well gained the indwelling of the Holy Spirit of God. Still, I was very much the young girl, who had learned to survive by fighting the current. I went through life kicking my legs with my arms flailing in the foam. I wore the security of salvation about my breast but I didn't know it's power or how to use it. My lack of trust in it's ability allowed fear to be my rudder and the rocks still battered me.
I am stunned by the strong parallel between this wilderness experience and my spiritual journey.(Truly the revelation hits me as my fingers tap the keys of my laptop). Though introduced at seven to the glory of God by attending church with our next-door-neighbors, as a minor I was not granted a qualified spiritual guide to lead me through the rapids of life. My sisters and I ran wild until our mother remarried. This...I'll call it...freedom...gave us false confidence we had what it takes to navigate through life victoriously. Sister strong, we can't go wrong. Us against it all. Traits necessary for survival in a rugged world became badges of honor and tragically this young beauty became a beast within.
The current was swift and though I learned to face the rapids with a set jaw, I made every attempt to swim to the shore. Yet, in my own strength it was useless, I kept dashing against stone. Bruised, gashed and weary I gave my all in the war with the rapids, but my all was not enough to save me. The great Fall ahead was claiming me to its eternal depths when at the end of my strength, MERCY scooped me from the ravenous water and revealed to me a wooden cross. Upon this alone I could safely ride the river of live. Once again I gave my heart over...this time to Jesus Christ, the only guide who can get me safely home.
In the journey that followed, I learned to set fear of the water aside. I bathed in the living water, was baptized by it and found it to be the only substance to satisfy my spiritual thirst. Abiding in the water's depths I learned its patterns. How long stretches bring stillness to the surface and twists and turns whisk up foam. Safe in the water I watched as the predators of the night stalked the shores, their eyes glowing in the dark. Their evil deeds contrasted by the doe of early morning drinking deeply from the water's edge.
Each season drew various creations to the banks; springtime brought the newly born and sowers, summer, it's wading fishermen and joyful swimmers, fall, was rich with harvesters and winter was when Christ and I drifted alone. Then is when Jesus beckoned me to note my reflection upon the crystal waters. The unyielding ice reflecting my inner self. Stripped bare like the trees, I suffer winter's transformation year after year. Yet, with every thaw,new life would spring forth within me. My appearance looking more like my guide.
Today, I marvel at the Water. I see the beauty He creates, the life He sustains and I respect His enormous power. The journey of transformation is one we are all invited on. We should not deny ourselves the experience by staying on the shore. Likewise, none of us need fear being stranded on the bar without a faithful and trustworthy guide. Jesus is the living water for which we can all abide in safely. The one in which we can place our hope and the only one we should ever claim as our Savior. With Jesus at our side we can dare to peer into the mirror and say..."Show me the beast!"
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