A few years ago, before my wife and I married, she tried to teach me how to swim. My wife is an excellent swimmer. I suppose anyone who can swim at all is an excellent swimmer in my eyes, and she is no exception. During the summer one year we would spend our weekends (and some weekdays) at a lake in Grapevine, Texas. She would drag me into the water where she would then attempt to teach me how to swim. We started out with the first and most difficult step - floating. In five feet of water she would have me lift up my feet and start kicking to hold myself up and not sink. I quickly realized that I could not do this very well and I found myself dropping towards the bottom. I would begin to panic like a mad man until my wife reminded me that I was only in five feet of water and that, being six feet tall, I wouldn't drown. Even then, it never quite registered. I was hopeless. Teaching me to swim was like teaching my dog to play basketball - it just couldn't happen (although my dog learning to shoot hoops is more likely than me learning to swim).
One day after my wife and I got married, we joined her family at a lake for a day of fishing, picnicking, and soaking up the sun. After a few relaxing hours on the boat trying to catch some fish (another feat I have yet to master), my wife persuaded me to jump into the lake, considering the heat of the day and the coolness of the water. So, with my life jacket strapped on tightly, checked and double checked to ensure that it wouldn't slip off, I foolishly jumped from a perfectly good boat into water that was about twenty feet deep. At first touch the water felt great. It was a stark contrast to the scorching heat of the mid-day sun. But even with a life vest strapped on, I felt like I was drowning. The water would occasionally come up to my chin and almost into my mouth and I had this piercing fear that I would begin to sink. Almost immediately, as I realized how far I had drifted from the safety of the boat, I panicked again. I suppose I was afraid that I would just keep drifting away until I was lost forever in that lake (as if they couldn't find me even if it did happen).
I began trying frantically to swim back to the boat, in desperate hope of a rescue from my certain demise in that deadly lake. I saw my wife near-by, looking calm and happy, enjoying the beauty of the water, and I called out to her to have her dad bring the boat to me. Of course, she laughed at my dramatic desperation. But I kept flailing my arms, longing for the boat. In all my excitement and unnecessary movement, two things happened that I didn't expect.
I lost my wedding ring, and I pushed myself further away from the boat.
My wife wasn't too happy about the wedding ring being lost. We were newly weds after all. But sadly the only thing on my mind at the time was that all my efforts at getting back to the boat were only making things worse. I wasn't getting any closer. I was instead pushing myself further away. Eventually, after what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds, my father-in-law brought the boat over and we all piled in. I was frustrated and exhausted and still shaken up from my near-death experience. As I looked down at my left hand I was painfully reminded of the cost of my unnecessary efforts to rescue myself - I had lost something precious to me; I had wasted my time, energy, and effort; I had given up my confidence and had existed, if just for a minute, in utter despondency. And these facts made me sad.
Can't we all relate to this story? Not in the physical sense, with regards to swimming and drowning, but in the spiritual sense. How many times do we find ourselves in some type of sin, distant and removed from God, and wondering how we will find our way back to Him? In times like these we tend to try frantically to "swim" back to our Savior. We try to correct our own behavior. We try to pray more or read the Bible more, or do better in that area, or improve in this area. We do, do, do, only to find ourselves far, far away from the God of grace. All of our efforts only push us further away from Him. They don't accomplish what we think they will. Instead, it seems like its safer to simply stand still.
Max Lucado says that we always try to "be good, and belong, and behave, but God simply says to us 'Be still.'" The same is true for you, and for me. God is a God of limitless grace and love and mercy. And he wants to pour all of it out on His children. He doesn't want us to put forth our own futile efforts to correct our behavior or become better people. He simply wants us to be still and let Him do the work. He will come to us in our time of need; he will fill the gap; he will bring the boat over and pick us up. We just need to ask for it.
Our efforts at saving or changing ourselves are like chasing the wind - empty and hopeless. This is a message that I need to take to heart. Too often I tell myself to "do better" or "try harder" or "be more." But Jesus looks at me as I am, even when I have drifted away, and says, "Love me and let me work." Can you do that today? Can you trust in God's grace, his unmerited favor upon you? Can you put your faith in his ability to change you or bring you back to Himself? Can you stop trying to rescue yourself or pull yourself back to the boat and instead be still and rest in his love? In doing this, we surrender our stubbornness and open ourselves up to the wonders that God can perform.
"...it is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace...
- Hebrews 13:9
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