The photo Mother took of me right before I fell into the water.

I was a little girl when it happened but I still remember it. I was standing in the water near the edge of the bank at Big Bear Lake. I was being very careful. Tule blades were in close proximity and the mud was sticky around my feet. I held still and smiled at my momma for the picture, her sturdy brown camera required that she look down into it and not at the subject.  I was wearing a cute little summer outfit that my mother had sewn for me, a shorty polka-dot top that tied at the mid-drift and had cutesy matching short shorts. I remember that I liked it and that it matched my sisters outfits like most of the clothing that my mother sewed for us. Everything we wore she sewed. That, and the curtains, bedspreads, Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls, sock monkey dolls, and even a Humpty-dumpty doll for my brother. That day we were at Big Bear Lake for an outing with our cousins, even getting to ride in the wooden-top ski boat with a Johnson thirty-five horsepower outboard motor.

Mother wanted to take some pictures of us.  My big sister got her picture taken standing in the water, my next oldest sister waded in for her turn, and then me. I was standing there smiling. Mother snapped the picture. The next thing I knew, I was slipping down into the water. It was murky brown and I was looking up through the water. I could see the daylight above me like a film of blurry filtering rays. I struggled in the water submerged below its surface, my feet sliding around in the mud as I flailed and tried to find my way up. Though I was only three or four at the time, I remember that feeling; the helplessness, scariness, what is was like to not find my way out even though I was really trying. What must have been only a minute or so, seemed to last a long time. Then Mother swooped in, grabbed me, and lifted me out of the water. I sputtered. My sisters were scared and excitedly chattering. My little brother would be the next to get his picture. Life went on.

“I’m not going to make it!” Just the other day the memory of that experience returned. I thought of how it felt to be submerged under water. The helplessness and panic, and the lack of progress.  It came to me as an analogy while I was in the process of preparing a lesson to teach to a group of Christian women, some of them dealing with layers of issues from the past and also in the present, some voiced, others unvoiced. Meaningful stuff. The lesson touched on the topics of trust and surrender. Neither is easy. I remembered my own spiritual struggles, the desperation that came when the going got harder rather than easier which brought on the memory of that little girl, who was me, flailing in the water but not quite able to make it to the surface. That’s how it feels, I thought. Interesting. The week before I had shared that story from my childhood with my oldest daughter making it fresh in my mind. The struggle. The path to God and His healing grace has a similarity to that feeling of desperation, getting close but not quite there, trying and trying to make it to the surface, to the good life that we see others living and wish for ourselves. The struggle often consumes the energy (and the will) and we don’t think we’re ever going to make it. Panic ensues—and doubt. Is it really possible?

But then. Then God sweeps in. He rescues us. Lifts us out. Comforts us. Dries us off. Calms our fears. Sets us on stable ground. We sigh. It is safe and all is well. Relief comes in. The danger of succumbing to fear is gone, completely eradicated. We know we are safe. It was hard, though, when we were slipping and sliding all over the place without making much progress (that we could see) or were experiencing limited success. However, what we couldn’t see was also true. God loved us and He was there with us, ready to jump in and save us during the critical moments. It was almost as if He was waiting for us to need Him, when we realized we were not going to make it on our own. The thing had become impossible. When God comes in, we realize that now we we can quit fighting the terror.  We can lean on His everlasting strong arms and trust Him to take care of us. We are secure. His arms surround us in a grip that won’t ever let us go.  Then we know without a doubt, we are in safety on the shore. The struggle has diminished. Spiritual healing and health has been accessed. We are set free from our chains.

If you are that little child in a big person’s body, coping but discouraged, weary and depleted, fearful but trying to trust, I must share with you that the struggle is one of learning to trust, to let go, to forgive, to heal, and it is also a seeking to find, looking for answers, and yielding to God the hidden things as they are revealed. The struggle is multiplied by our many unmet needs, unhealed hurts, and unresolved issues which complicate our history and some of our days. God offers us a lifesaver in the form of His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. A process of restoring us to spiritual health and well-being begins as we turn our lives to God and His interventions. This may be slow or fast depending on our openness and willingness to join in the cleansing and healing that Christ offers us, and also by the depth of our wounds. Where there is much hurt it is complicated, often needing outside counsel by competent godly therapists. But it is possible. Even on your own it is possible. A person can be set free of the hurts of their past and pains of their present through a yielding to God and a seeking of His truth. Most, who have received this blessing of healing in their emotions and renewed life, speak of a warmth that cascades throughout their body and soul as God sends His Spirit’s Presence to touch their inner brokenness at the point when they completely, as much as they can, surrender the hurt or the circumstance to God. It happened to me. I believe God waits for us to give up doing it our way to begin doing it His way. The conversation often starts with “‘I can’t’ do this anymore.”  Jesus says, “But I can.” And He does.