The Friday before the 4th of July was just gorgeous at Kure Beach! The sun was gleaming on the refreshingly cool ocean water as the pelicans and seagulls soared over us chattering to each other and occasionally swooping down to catch a mid-morning snack. We must have played in the water off and on for a couple of hours without incident. The tide was out, the water deceptively low. The waves were mildly active as we drifted out to a sandbar near the end of the newly renovated, 700-foot pier.
Suddenly, the waves seemed to rise higher and come more quickly as the tide rolled in without warning. One wave after the other violently separated me from my husband and children. Realizing I could no longer touch the bottom, I panicked. In what seemed an endless cycle of waves that relentlessly tried to pull me under rather than pushing me to shore, I began to tire so quickly. My breathing became shallow as I struggled to keep my head above water long enough to take a good, deep breath. I wasn't moving forward or backward. People always say if you find yourself in this situation, you should just roll onto your back and float. I did try this, but the sheer terror of being swept under the tumultuous waves and not being able to fight my way back up kept me in this whirlwind of water that would not let me go. The strength of the current was fighting forcefully against all my efforts to survive. I kept thinking, I'm not strong enough. I wanted to scream for help, but truthfully, I did not want to embarrass my family by making a fuss or by causing undue alarm or attention. I yelled for my husband, "Steven, I need your help!" My voice was barely audible over the sound of the thunderous waves and I wasn't sure he'd hear me in time. I prayed, "Dear God, please. Help."
Realizing I was in real trouble, my husband quickly swam to my rescue only to get caught in the same predicament as the water crept higher than his six-foot stature. With a voice much stronger than mine, he yelled to a nearby swimmer to call for a lifeguard. That beautiful, precious woman looked into my eyes and calmly said, "Swim to the side. You are in a rip current and you must swim out of it. Just swim toward me." In an instant, the nightmare was over as quickly as it had begun. I could stand up on my own. I could breathe full, deep breaths. I was safe!
When I fell into my beach chair moments later, tears began to stream down my face. I felt the weight of another wave that would overtake me. The emotions welled up inside of me and poured out of my eyes onto my cheeks. I could not speak except to thank my Jesus for His protection and sovereign will over me, my husband, and my precious kids who could have become orphaned that day on a beach in North Carolina.
Over the next few hours and days, our family recounted the details, shared our fears, and our eternal gratefulness. We had a good family hug and we talked about how as a family we had overcome once again. Lord knows we have been through some rough stuff in our few short years together. And yes, I do believe we all became closer to Jesus on this road trip! In fact, my youngest said, "Mama, I do believe in prayer now."
"Yet you do not know [the least thing] about what may happen in your life tomorrow. [What is secure in your life?] You are merely a vapor [like a puff of smoke or a wisp of steam from a cooking pot] that is visible for a little while and then vanishes [into thin air]."
James 4:14 AMP
When you experience things like this, there is a tendency to reflect on our frailty as humans. Scripture reminds us our lives are a vapor. Experiences often come to teach us, not to take us out. On the shallow end, one might think the lesson would be a review of swimming safety rules or a reminder to watch the lifeguard flags; however, this traumatic experience would be a lesson in something deeper, something thought-provoking, something life-changing. I left the beach that day thanking God that His strength is made perfect in my weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9) Also, I came to the realization that not every battle we face is meant to be fought because no matter how strong we think we are; we will not win. People usually do not change without some Heavenly intervention. Some situations never change. So, the purpose of the battle may not be to gain a victory, but rather to change our way of thinking or to redirect us, to change our course completely.
We can all find ourselves caught up in a strong current with breaking waves. Perhaps, turmoil at work, a personal struggle that you cannot overcome, or a relationship that is chaotic or suffocating. Whatever the current, the struggle has you exhausted from treading water, a vicious cycle of riding the wave to being pulled back under before you can take another breath, your cries for help drowned out by the noise. Living in tremendous anxiety because you are unable to see the shoreline much less reach it, you feel alone. Swim to the side.
Sometimes, you must completely remove yourself from a situation to get a fresh perspective. Change course. You must swim out of it so you can catch your breath and secure your footing. Then, reevaluate. Do not be afraid or embarrassed to ask for help. Then, pay it forward. Be that calm voice of reason for a friend, family member, or a stranger that needs to know they too can swim to the side.
Psalm 89:9, "You rule the swelling of the sea; When its waves rise, You still them."
Comments
Post a Comment