The last time we went to the lake, I alluded to the possibility of learning to drive a jet ski…again. My husband’s face lit up with excitement.

Let me explain:

(Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

I haven’t driven a jet ski in years, at least ten if I am calculating correctly. I remember being somewhat adventurous during our first years of lake life. Did I love danger? No. Was I reckless? Also no. But I enjoyed going fast, the adrenaline rush of jumping a wild wake and spinning donuts in the water with a kid squealing in delight while they held on for dear life behind me. I was determined to be a fun mom, and I was.

But something changed in me, and I still struggle to explain it. Over the course of several years, the adventurous version of me began to be squelched by fear. “What-ifs” and “wait, what if I (or they) get hurt” thoughts intruded on many of my attempts at having fun. Anxiety that first began to growl in the corners of my mind when I was a teenager started to grow as adult life became more and more unpredictable and complicated. I retreated into a small world of home life and familiarity to protect myself and my kids.

Did it work?

No.

The waves still came and shook me to the core.

Where was my faith, you might ask? The truth is, I loved Jesus but, deep down, I was afraid of God. I lived my life in a joy-killing tension of cognitive dissonance that left me paralyzed by fear. In my mind, I somehow believed if I kept things safe, I was less likely to fail. and if I didn’t fail, God would surely love me.

The truth.

I didn’t yet understand that Jesus didn’t just come to save the world, he also came to show us what God is like. (If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father. John 14:9) He modeled patience and love, intentionality and rest. Not one time did he get angry at what the religious considered to be sinners. In fact, his anger only surfaced when the religious leaders used their authority to rob from, hurt, and control the very ones Jesus said are blessed in his beautiful upside-down kingdom:

Until just a few years ago, I believed God was inherently angry which made it really hard to fully relax and enjoy my life in all its complicated mess. Religious obligation was the impetus behind my spiritual practices. I felt the need to prove my faith was real by stretching myself thin and throwing myself into ministry, service, and checking all the daily spiritual boxes even though I was struggling to stay afloat in my private world. Fear relentlessly chased me. Intrusive thoughts assaulted my mind and I allowed anxiety to dictate many of my actions for far too long.

Enjoy the ride.

As I rode the jet ski, I began to realize the tension in my body only made the waves seem stronger. I kept trying to find a way to avoid the waves, to glide only on smooth water, but on a busy weekend in July that is simply not possible.

Stiffening my body only made the jet ski bob dangerously as the waves assaulted it. Fear made me feel desperate to maintain control so I didn’t get thrown into the lake. But, the reality is, waves are an inevitable part of the lake experience AND the jet ski is designed to stay upright. I can trust the technology of the jet ski along with the ability of my life jacket to keep me afloat if I misjudge a wave and end up tossed into the water. I can either fight the waves and be miserable, or I can learn to relax, hit the gas, and skim over the waves with the wind in my face and laughter in my lungs.

For the first 20-30 minutes of our ride, I struggled to relax. Going slow on a jet ski that is built to go fast, because I was scared, wasn’t fun. I didn’t trust it to stay upright, so I felt out of control as the waves pummeled it from all directions. But then we turned into a cove. I’d been following my husband in the comfort of his wake (another metaphor, I know). He patiently led the way as I stayed close behind him.

Then something inside me shifted. I realized my body had relaxed and the machine I was riding felt responsive to me. It didn’t feel foreign anymore, but comfortingly familiar and friendly. With a deep breath, I melted into the seat as I scanned the calmer water of the cove.

And I decided to change my mind. I chose to live.

I hit the gas, hopped out of his wake, and flew past my husband as he grinned from ear to ear. This was what he had hoped for. He knew I had it in me, that I just need time to learn to trust the jet ski.

Suddenly, the waves weren’t so scary. Suddenly, I enjoyed the spray of the water on my face when I landed hard. Suddenly, I was having fun. I hopped wakes on purpose, my body relaxed and absorbing the impact as I experimented with faster speeds. I relished my husband’s smile as he watched, and I couldn’t help but draw parallels with what I have learned, and am still learning, about the love of a good Father who takes joy in His children. A God who is with us, in us, and around us as the waves of life come. A God I can trust, who beckons me to loosen my grip and relax in the seat.

This God incarnate, this Messiah who undid the curse of Adam when He died and rose again, is my steady vessel. The Holy Spirit, alive within me, is the true core of who I am. That part of me, the imago dei, is designed to stay upright. It wants to play and dance on the water. It wants to live life to the fullest even when waves are pummeling me from every direction. I can, and must, trust my Father and his Spirit in me to withstand the waves, stay afloat, and keep me on course. I can relax into the security He brings and have loads of fun along the way as I live this one precious life.

I’m still learning.

Do I have this truth embedded to the point I won’t wrestle with it any more?

Doubtful.

Will I have to relearn this lesson?

You can count on it.

But that’s ok. It’s part of the process of learning to live like Jesus. And I, for one, am so glad He was fully human and showed us how to truly LIVE. Jesus is a man who laughed and loved, ran and played, and (I believe) would have happily ridden a jet ski if they had existed two thousand years ago!

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When we sin, God reacts like a parent with a sick child whose body has been ravaged by disease, he hates what hurts you.

But He doesn’t hate you.

Meditate on that for a few minutes. Ask God to reveal His heart for you as you sit in silence. Let the peace of Christ settle into your bones.

1. After the passing of Wendell Berry on August 31, I felt the need to finally read Jayber Crow. I’ve read Hannah Coulter and a few of his poems and essays, but never got around to reading JC. Well, I’m four chapters in and hooked on this brilliant writing from a man who lived what he believed even when the world appeared to be passing him by. What a rich and deeply meaningful life. What a legacy.

2. The BEMA Podcast–After binge-listening for a year (No, Marty and Brent, I didn’t skip ahead!) I am beginning their series on the book of Revelation. This should be fun 🙂

3. “When I get where I’m Going” by Dolly Parton and Brad Paisley is making me cry. Good tears, but I sure am sad she is gone. What a unique and unforgettable woman. What a legacy of love and generosity she left. (And has it not been a hard couple of weeks? My gosh, we are losing the generation that felt like an anchor in this modern, techno-crazy world.)

4. Dallas Willard’s teaching (@dallaswillard on YouTube). I’m taking so many notes. Good stuff.

I recently bought the cutest analog radio for my office. No wifi or bluetooth capabilities. Just two knobs and static between channels.

Technology has gotten so out of control that reining it in a bit, wherever I can, just seems to be important.

Here is the link if you want one: Analog Radio on Amazon

“Grace and discipline are complementary, not exclusive.”

~Dallas Willard

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