by Al Gustafson
During my school years, I had but one note of praise sent home from a teacher. It came sophomore year of high school, and the note began, “Al was a non-floater, but now he can swim.” It was my gym teacher writing to tell my parents at age 15 I finally learned how to swim.
Being a non-floater, I certainly did not trust deep water. In gym class though, I was forced to spend time in the deep end of the pool flailing my arms and kicking my legs. All that frenetic activity powered by panic. The more aware I was of the weight of my body, the more frantic and tired I’d become.
It wasn’t until the day I thoroughly exhausted myself that I let go of the fear of sinking and discovered the secret of floating. What is required is relaxing and then letting almost all of my body rest below the surface of the water. To stop resisting and let myself become almost entirely immersed in what seems on the surface entirely untrustworthy.
It takes faith to float. Without it how could we ever imagine the water could hold us up? Mysteriously it does. Suspended in the deep, the frenetic activity slows down, I again breath with ease and learn to move with purpose rather than panic.
Swim lessons can be faith lessons.
And I can still be a non-floater. Now it is the weight of my life’s circumstances that carry me into deep water. The realities of my life that seem to offer only darkness and no bottom on which to stand secure. I fight and flail and do all I can to keep myself from sinking. The more I resist what is happening, the heavier everything seems to be and the more helpless I feel.
Swim lessons taught me to relax and rest myself enough below the surface of things until I find myself feeling buoyed. God is found in the midst of all that happens to me and so I must allow myself to get into the midst of what is happening to me in order to experience God’s presence. To let myself become almost entirely immersed in what seems on the surface entirely untrustworthy.
It is never easy to relax my fear and meet the deep. Sometimes exhaustion gets me there, other times trust, but in the end, it is just choosing to finally let go.
When the letting go happens it is no coincidence that things slow down, the frenetic energy begins to quiet. inner and outer resources previously unnoticed are made known and a mysterious buoyancy animates my soul.
Sinking into the darkness of the deep is required. It is a requirement for coming to know the mysterious forces that keep us buoyant when our own power cannot. It is here we learn to swim in the current of the Spirit and God’s promise.
What deep waters do you find yourself in?