Then came third grade swimming lessons at the community pool. I tried to love the lessons, really, I did, but there was nothing fun about being cold and wet. My tense paper-weight-like body refused to float and instead I reliably sank. While the other beginner students jumped in and out with joyful abandon, I gently lowered myself inch by chilly inch into the water. Instead of graceful arms and fluttering feet my strokes looked like a flapping chicken hit the water. So, when the day came for everyone to jump off the diving board, I was not enthusiastic. 

My mom wisely stayed home that day, and my dad came instead. I had no intention of going off the board, but he gradually talked me into it. After watching everyone else have their turn, and noting no near-death experiences, I decided I could at least try. Here is a key detail though: I still couldn’t really swim. Everyone thought that as soon as I jumped into the deep end, weeks of lessons would suddenly click, and I would paddle proudly over to the edge and climb out. That most definitely did not happen.

I moved gingerly down the gangplank of a diving board, and with a pitiful look at the swim coach, plunged straight in. The water was just as cold and unpleasant in the deep end as it had been in the three feet, and my arms and legs felt paralyzed in response. There was nothing grab-able above or below or beside me and in disoriented fear I flailed wildly. I tumbled around as if caught in an ocean wave and in my panic to escape, frantically swam straight down instead of up.

Then suddenly, a giant hook reached through the bubbles of chaos and caught around my middle. Desperately confused at first, I tried to escape it, but no matter where I turned it grabbed me. Over the roar of my panic I gradually heard screaming voices, “Relax, Colleen, relax!” and in my exhaustion, simply gave up the struggle.

As you can imagine, the lifeguard’s giant hook pulled me to safety within seconds, and I lived to tell the story. If I had just relaxed and let go that day, the water itself would have rescued me and floated me safely to the peaceful surface.

The whole experience reminds me about my life with God. It’s a lesson I often forget as I struggle and resist His plans, insistent on following my own agenda instead. I get all turned around and things get worse the harder I fight. Challenges at work, slow progress in writing, loneliness or grief, all are worse when I protest and rebel. But when I relax and accept that God will float me past the struggle, He always does. Work gets peaceful even when it’s busy, the writing pours off my fingers, and the grief delivers happy memories instead of pain. I bet you can relate.

So, the next time God tries to pull us in the right direction, let’s just relax and float into His will. Let’s remember that He is always working to bring good out of even our most difficult struggles. Amen.