Over My Head

If you have ever been in water with young children, you are probably familiar with the incredible terror that they experience when the water approaches their head. I will never forget teaching my siblings how to swim. My baby brother would get in the water by himself with his floaties, but if I took them off of him, he would only cling to me in the water. He had to learn to trust that he was going to be fine, even if the water went over his head.

One of the most terrifying experiences of my life was the time my baby sister jumped into the water, forgetting she had just taken her float vest off. I will never forget the desperation and fear in her eyes as she silently pleaded with me to save her. I have never jumped in after someone so fast. She was shaking with fear when I pulled her out of the water, and the tears were sudden.

I have always been comfortable in water, but I still don't like to be in over my head very often. I like to be able to swim beneath the surface if I want to, but then be able to put my feet on the ground and know that I can still stand in the water. I like to feel safe.

Sometimes, if we aren't careful, we are that way with God. The prophet Ezekiel talked about the river that flowed out of the House of God. He described the progression of the depth of the water. It advanced from his ankles to his knees, to his waist, and finally, so deep that he could not pass over: waters to swim in. (Ez. 47:1-5) When God begins a work in your life, He starts at the ankle level. For someone who has never even been in water, getting in to the ankle-depth takes great faith. It takes trusting in God.

When we master that level, God calls us deeper. We walk in to where the water crests our knees, then our waist, then our shoulders, and finally we stand right on the edge of the scariest part of all: Waters over our head.

There is no control anymore. You've lost the ground beneath your feet. You have to trust that He has His hand beneath you, even though you can't feel it. The waters slip over your head, and its overwhelming. You have to make yourself breathe because you are too strained to do it naturally.

In other words: Your hours get cut at work and you stay faithful in your giving. The water slips over your head. You face depression in faith and determine not to let it beat you this time. The water slips over your head. You take a step of faith and go talk to your pastor about the addiction you are fighting. The water slips over your head. You reach a place in prayer where you no longer care about your needs; you are too filled with a desire to see God save the city that you are called to. The water slips over your head. You stop fighting the calling that God has placed on your life and begin to pursue the ministry God has for you. The water slips over your head.

I have learned in the last few years of serving God that I hardly ever feel in control. In fact, if I am seeking to feel in control, I am probably not seeking the will of God. God's will is for me to serve Him, no matter what I face.

"Whether I sink, whether I swim, it makes no difference when I am beautifully in over my head."

That terror that children face is something I have been feeling myself lately. I've been turning desperate, silent eyes to God, pleading with Him to help me. I know He stands with me, though, because every once in a while there will be a gentle lift. When I think I can't take another day, His hand comes beneath my feet for a moment, and I can breathe again. My trust in Him grows day by day. Just as my baby brother had to learn to trust himself, I have to learn to trust in my Maker and the Holder of my every moment.

"Would you come and tear down the boxes that I have tried to put you in? Let love come teach me who you are again?"

Sometimes I have to just tell myself, "You trust Him, Ariqua. You are in His hands." I know that even when I have lost control, I am free. Even when the water goes over my head, I am right where He wants me to be.