Drowning

Drowning.
What comes to mind when you see or hear this word? Desperation? Helplessness? Misery? Time magnified? Death?

Though I have never physically experienced anything close to drowning, I have always had a fear of it -- personally and for others. I have always imagined it would be one of the worst ways to die. I was recently able to "use" that fear for a purpose: to conjure up a parallel of an aspect of my spiritual life. Bear with me.

Often drowning, or near-drowning, is a result of not following instructions: signs, advice, common sense. It may occur suddenly or after a series of unwise decisions.
Other times such an accident is just that -- and accident: faulty equipment, lack of information, injury. Regardless, an individual in such a situation quickly finds himself in a desperate state. He realizes how powerless he is and longs for rescue. He will grab anything around him that provides a sense of hope, whether lasting or temporary; sturdy or weak. Cries and screams, possibly prayers and gasping for air as he fights the fatigue -- everything in him battling death.

Spiritually, this is the points God brings me to -- often, it seems. Many times it is the direct result of my not following Instruction, not listening first and foremost to the voice of my Lifeguard and the signs He has "posted." Sometimes it is circumstances that place me here -- yet it is still my heart that allows them to have control, confuse and drive me to this point.
One thing I have learned, though in the moment it is difficult to recall, is that God bringing me to this point is the most loving act. Allow me to explain.

When I am insuch a state, when my heart is "drowning," I realize how helpless I am on my own. Sadly, my first response to this realization is not always to reach for or "swim toward" my only Hope. Sometimes I get angry. Many times I look around me in the water. I grasp at floating objects -- but they are not true help; they only allow me to drift a little longer. When one fails me, I reach for another...but each piece of debris only floats me further from my only source of true Help.

Even more devastating is the times I reach out for another person: either someone in the same state I am, or someone in a "safer" place, who is stronger and meant to encourage, strengthen, and point me to Safety. When I do this, it defeats the purpose. We only struggle more and weigh each other down because I am attempting to make him/her fill the need only One can fill. Basically, instead of enjoying the company along the way, I help to kill us both.

It is only when I let go of my deathly life rafts and companions and reach for the outstretched hand (which, by the way, had been there all along) that I receive Help. Hope. Life.

No drowning experience has been the same -- I've fought longer, ingested more water at sometimes than others. But always when I surrender and am rescued, I see in a new, familiar way what my only Hope is. When that outstretched hand pulls me into open, loving arms; when I feel words of comfort and Truth whispered tenderly in my ear as I'm held close to His heart; and when He gently nudges me and points down into the water: that's when I love Him most. That's when I know my need for Him most.

For there, beneath the murky, rushing water I was drowning in moments before, I see through tears what He is pointing to: His hand. While He was reaching one out to me, longing for me to place mine in His, His other hand was beneath me. He was ready to catch me the whole time.

"Why?!" I ask Him. "Father, I was fighting against You. I was too stubborn to listen before now; I tried to replace You! Why would You catch me when I wasn't even reaching for Your offered hand?"

His answer to my drenched, weary, pathetic heart is always the same; but it is never common, never ceases to bring more tears of deepest gratitude, devotion and love:

"Because," He says with passion, looking deep into my eyes, "You are mine."


No, the drowning is never pleasant, every second feels like an eternity and I don't want to get to that point before I listen solely to His voice and remember He is my everything. But how thankful I am that my Father loves me enough to let me get to that state so I will listen and surrender -- so He can hold me close again and be my everything. I don't want to "drown" anymore -- I want to live in a state of seeing my desperate need. To experience the magnitude of His love. To recognize the "debris" as such. To cry out and reach for Him first; and watch in awe as He rescues me.

I'm really tired of swallowing water.