Have you ever seen those photos of people white water rafting? Nothing screams “I’m enjoying this existential anxiety attack” more than people on one of these boats.
Circa 2008, I found myself on the Nantahala River in North Carolina. This boat was full of people who I needed to like/respect me, so the pressure was on. Don’t. Fall. Out.
One way they told us to avoid becoming fish food was to stick our feet under the “seat” in front of us. Like…jam those things as far underneath as you can get them. This really was your only way of holding on. You had an oar in one hand, and your seat was nothing more than an inflated tube of air. No handles. Just pure adrenaline. Consider this leg day, people.
We take off down this one-way death trap, and the first bit was fine. We’d hit a few bumps along the way, but nothing insane. Nothing prepared me for the end, though.
There’s nothing like sitting in the front of the boat and watching the river come to an end. Except, it didn’t actually end. It dropped off. Our guide was trying to remind us that we needed to keep rowing until we hit the drop. At that point, suck your oar into the boat, jam those toes under the seat, and pray.
We made it through the drop, my hammies were sore, and I didn’t fall out of the boat. Mission accomplished. Some 18 years later, I feel like I’m still in that boat, feet jammed underneath the seat. Except this time, the drop is much bigger, and I’m about to fall out.
Holding On For Dear Life
Life hits you fast. No amount of college can prepare you for most of what you’ll encounter as an adult. Your parents can preach until they’re blue in the face, but you won’t figure most of this stuff out until you’re careening down the river. Your instincts kick in, and you just hold on for dear life. Not much is in your control. If you’re like me, you spend a lot of time wondering if you’re doing anything right.
That’s where I’m at in my life right now. Every day is something new that I haven’t experienced before. My anxiety is constant. My schedule is packed. I wish I could be around more for my kids. I work almost every waking hour of the week, but still don’t make enough. I try to be faithful to God’s Word, but I often walk away dry and still full of anxiety.
Sound familiar?
I guess my confession is this: I’m still in the boat, but my head is underwater. One foot is jammed under the seat in front of me. The other is slipping. I can’t pause the ride or climb out. The river keeps moving.
When we’re drowning like this, it’s only natural to start looking for something to save us. For me, it’s this simple sentence from Psalm 34:18.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
I don’t have the answers. I don’t have a cute 3-point list on how to “make life work for you”. What I do have, though, is an eternal promise from God, our Father, that says He’s near to me. Near you. He hasn’t walked away. We don’t need our emotions to line up with what this verse says. His promise isn’t dependent on how we feel in this moment. He’s promised to save us. We may have our feet stuck under the seat, but He’s got his hand firmly gripped around our life jacket. No matter how furious the waves get, we’re not going anywhere so long as He’s right behind us.
Midnight Prayer
God, I’m barely hanging on here. Most days, I feel like I might slip under and never come back up. I know I don’t feel like you’re going to work this out, but help me to trust that you will. Hold me in this boat, and hold me in your love. Amen.
Need Prayer?
Reach out to me in the comments below. Let me know how I can pray for you. If you don’t want to share specifics, just comment “Prayer”. If you don’t need prayer, let me know what’s on your mind, anyway.
You are loved.
You are valued.
Confessions 