Lessons Learned From A Waterslide

It’s summertime and that means it’s time for water-parks. So recently I ventured with my niece, nephew, and sister-in-law to White Water.

Our afternoon of family fun moved along with lots of laughing, splashing, and playing in the sun. That is, until I found myself waiting in a line in which the rides to my left and right looked like pipelines surrounded by heavy concrete. While this type of a waterslide was a favorite as a child, I no longer felt drawn to sliding down a tube in utter darkness. To this recovering control-freak, no thank you.

My sister-in-law seemed to notice at the same time. Would this ride be alright for me she wondered. What could I do? The line crowded in behind me closing off any escape. Plus, I wanted my niece and nephew to know that I am in fact a very cool aunt. So while inside a slow panic started erupting, I responded, “Yeah, sure. Besides it looks like only a small part of the ride is enclosed fully.” And then I started praying.

After my anxiety had ample time to swell in line, we finally reached the top. Armed with a double-tube, my excited nephew claimed me for his partner and we begin “boarding” our tube. The ride felt fun the first few seconds. Then the tunnel appeared.

Before I knew it darkness encompassed me. My heart rate quickened. Panic coursed throughout my body. My breathing all but stopped. How long will this uncertainty last? I felt us moving but had no idea where. Would there be a big drop? Would we curve? Would we be in here forever?

Finally light appeared and my whole body relaxed. Just as I felt pleased that I braved my fears, my niece ran up to me and shouted, “That was awesome! Let’s do it again, and this time I get to ride with you!” People really will do anything for the kids they love because I braved the darkness once again. And the second time wasn’t nearly as bad.

Later as I described my experience to a friend, a light dawned in my heart. I realized how this ride exemplified my walk with God in the midst of my present circumstances.

I don’t know the future. I can’t see the next steps. A current pulls me along that I’m unable to maneuver. I have no control. I feel stressed, worried, anxious. I struggle to trust in God’s provision as Jesus promised (Matt 6:25–34).

Yet I hear God whisper, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you” (Is 43:2). He promises to walk with us through, and not necessarily deliver us from, the raging rivers. His presence then is our hope.

Instead of seeking deliverance from darkness, God invites me to lean into the arms of comfort already present. Think of movie scenes in which people suddenly find themselves in an unlit, creepy house at midnight. They usually step toward, and even grab the arm, of the person with them. Dark places, as such, seem to lend themselves to drawing us closer to those around us.

Perhaps you too find yourself in similar times. You need answers but only have questions. You seek direction but get more turned-around. You look for relief but only feel more grief. You long for love but feel lonely. You crave strength but can barely stand.

In the shadowy moments, God offers Himself. Besides that’s what life is, knowing Jesus and His Father (John 17:3). That’s why the disciples constantly experienced joy in the midst of trials, heartache, persecution. They focused on drawing close to Christ. When He’s our passion, the twists and turns of life offer a new joy.

So in our confusion, pain, doubt we can move toward the Person present with us. To the One of whom David writes, “Even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You” (Ps 139:12).

Distressed But Full of Joy

“In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls” (I Pet 1:6-9).

Marital conflict. Job loss. Cancer diagnosis. Defiant children. Car accident. These and many other trials fill our weeks, months, and sometimes, years. And as they beat down upon us, they test not only our character, but our faith. Will we keep trusting God? Can we believe He will see us through? Will we dare to keep hoping?

Peter, like to the men and women he wrote, was separated from friends and family, enduring harsh persecution (v.1). And yet he describes the possibility of joy inexpressible in the midst of such suffering. How, I wonder?

Peter directs our attention to God's salvation. It seems he longed for those scattered abroad, and for us, to so prize God’s grace, to look beyond what is seen and temporal to Christ's final return, that we not only endure life's trials, but that we do so with joy that abounds.

But we often mistake happiness for joy. While happiness comes from the feeling we have when life is good, joy remains in the shifting of circumstances, even in the presence of pain.

It’s difficult, though, if not impossible, to feel joy when we feel anxious. Joy results from trust and confidence; anxiety, contrarily, often results from insecurity and uncertainty. Peter, and all believers, can express inexpressible joy because of Christ. No matter the circumstance, He remains faithful and our salvation secure.

Many days, however, my hope is not fixed completely on the grace to be brought to me at the return of Christ (I Pet 1:13). In difficult times, I often place my hope in improved circumstances. I begin to demand too much from this world, to set my heart on secure employment, enjoyment of friends and family, a rich church community.

It's not wrong to long for these good gifts. But to have a life of worry, stress and even despair reveals a heart that is not consumed with the love and grace of God. It exposes a heart that needs adjusting.

So what do you feel stressed and anxious about? Can you identify a current trial that may be challenging your faith?

Let us, as Peter exhorts, cast our worries upon Christ knowing He cares for us (I Pet 5:7) as proven at the cross. And let us yearn for His return more than we long for the comfort and riches of this world. May we enter into His joy by clinging to His enduring love and abiding presence that sustains us on this often rocky journey home.