Fear And The Goodness Of Godনমুনা

Water is a scary substance. It’s no wonder so many great stories of deliverance involve an escape  by water: Noah waiting to rise above the flood, Moses floating down the Nile to Pharaoh’s daughter, the children of Israel to passing through the Red Sea, Jonah plunging to certain death and being saved in the nick of time, the disciples frantically waking Jesus to rescue them from drowning at sea, and Peter growing afraid and beginning to sink, calling out, “Lord, save me!” Who of us, if called, would have stepped out of that boat?

Water is a blessing that can kill. Is it any wonder that being in too deep or overwhelmed (capsized by waves) are common expressions for that feeling of bewilderment—of being required to do the impossible?

As our children grow, and the challenges and responsibilities have grow with them, my husband and I have both felt ourselves drifting away from the shallow end, nearing the deep water where it looks like we’re certain to drown. Each time I feel the water rising, I catch my breath and wonder if this is really a good idea. Can we actually stay afloat with so much to weigh us down? Can we keep our heads above water while balancing five kids, a marriage, friendships, work, heaps of little projects, church responsibilities, community responsibilities, sports, travel, illnesses, and so much more? Can’t we just stay in the shallow end for a while and let the water splash around our ankles? Half the time I feel like flailing and hyperventilating like that kid in the swim class. Well-intentioned people may be telling me, “You’ll be alright. You’re not gonna sink,” but all I know is that the bottom is a long way down, and I am anything but buoyant. …

We all know that it’s more comfortable back in the shallows. It’s easier to believe that we’re going to survive when we’re sitting on the solid planks of the boat. But if we’re called to step away from the edge, to walk out where the blue below us is darker, out where the wind is rising, trust becomes a more difficult matter. We grow fearful. We begin to sink. But we have been called to do the impossible, to jump into the deep end, and to step out of the boat in the midst of the sea. So, go we must.