Several
years ago, Anita and our son Sam and I went whitewater rafting on the Kern
River just below Isabella Lake in Central California. None of us had ever been rafting before.
I should
pause here and tell you that anyone who knows me would never expect me to know
or write anything about whitewater rafting or any other extreme sport. I should
be embarrassed that I get more excited about trying to produce a well-written
sentence than I do about risking my life just for the thrill of it. But bear
with me. I learned some things from my first and only rafting experience that I
dare to share.
Before
starting down the river, we put on our PFDs and our guide gave us a lot of
helpful training. Some of the training focused on how to stay in the raft and
what to do if we fell out. If we fell out, we shouldn't panic. We should simply
go with the flow of the river and the raft would come and get us. He showed us
how to pull someone back onto the raft and had us practice doing that. And he
said whenever we hit turbulent water we could avoid falling out by using three
points of support: Our seat, our toeholds and the water.
The
water? Really?
He said
even though it would seem counterintuitive, if we leaned out over the water to
make deep strokes with our paddles, bending forward at the waist and using our
entire upper bodies to power the strokes rather than just our arms, then the
water would support us, and whenever the raft bounced it would bounce us back
into the raft. But if we tried to keep our bodies safely inside the raft and
made only shallow paddle strokes, a bounce of the raft would send us right into
the river.
We soon
found out exactly what our guide was talking about. It so happened that enough
water was being released that afternoon from the dam upriver at Isabella Lake
to produce some class 4 rapids on our section of the river—something that our
guide, and we, did not expect. Normally this stretch of the river was only a
class 2 or 3, which would have been more friendly for beginners like us.
To give
you a sense of the difference, on the International Scale of River Difficulty,
a class 4 river has "[i]Intense, powerful but predictable rapids requiring
precise boat handling in turbulent water. Depending on the character of the
river, it may feature large, unavoidable waves and holes or constricted
passages demanding fast maneuvers under pressure. A fast, reliable eddy turn
may be needed to initiate maneuvers, scout rapids, or rest. Rapids may require
'must' moves above dangerous hazards. Scouting may be necessary the first time
down. Risk of injury to swimmers is moderate to high, and water conditions may
make self-rescue difficult. Group assistance for rescue is often essential but
requires practiced skills."
Needless
to say, once we hit the rapids we were instantly grateful for the time our
guide had taken to carefully instruct us.
I learned
right away how important it was to cling to my toeholds whenever the forces of
the river began to lift me up off my seat. More than once I had to hang on by
my toes for dear life.
What was
more surprising for me was how much stability I felt when I leaned out to make
whole-body strokes through the rushing water. With my paddle I could literally
lean on the water, and the water would support me and keep me inside the raft.
By doing
these things, I made it all the way down the river without going overboard.
Barely.
Anita and
Sam weren't so lucky.
When
Anita fell into the water she quickly bobbed up on the other side of the raft,
where someone grabbed her by her shoulder straps and, in one motion, fell
backwards, using his own body weight to lift her onto the raft—just as our
guide had taught us to do. Anita was back on the raft in a matter of seconds.
That
wasn't so bad.
What was
worse, for me, was when Sam went overboard. A current carried him away from our
raft and around the right side of an island, while our raft veered around the
left side of the island. I panicked as I watched my son disappear from sight,
knowing I couldn't do anything to save him. After what seemed like forever, we
came around the island and saw Sam reappear on the other side. There the two
currents merged, easily bringing Sam and the raft back together, and someone
promptly pulled him onto the raft. It took me a while to get over my panic and
acknowledge that it was an overreaction.
There
were other adrenaline pumping incidents along the way, including one actual
life-and-death rescue situation that fortunately turned out okay.
All in
all it was a pretty crazy experience. More than I had bargained for.
I have
learned a lot from those experiences on our little trip down the Kern River. At
one level my experiences helped prepare me for any future rafting trip, but
more importantly they taught me lessons for my journey on the river of life.
Like the
Kern River that afternoon, the currents of life can run deeper and faster and
be more treacherous than we expect them to be or think they should be.
Sometimes those currents rise unexpectedly and change the conditions and
hazards and flow of our lives. When that happens, we may find ourselves hanging
on by our toes for dear life.
Those are
times when we can exercise faith by leaning out and pressing forward through
the whitewater that surrounds us. I am always surprised by how secure I feel
when I choose to trust the torrent that is propelling me forward.
This
reminds me of the lessons I learned from two dreams I previously described
here: I am best served when I allow the Living Water to flow freely in my
life and allow it to support and carry me wherever it does.
I mean
wherever He does.
Leaning
on the Living Water helps me stay safely on board and safely on course. But it
is also okay if I, or the people I love, fall overboard. No one travels down
the river of life without falling in the river many times. When we fall in the
river, we can be lifted to safety. And when we or those we love fall in the
river and drift in another direction, we can place our trust in the Living Water to
eventually bring us back together—to bring us all safely home.
This
reminds me of another, better-known story about being supported by water:
"And
straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go
before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away.
"And
when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray:
and when the evening was come, he was there alone.
"But
the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was
contrary.
"And
in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.
"And
when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It
is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.
"But
straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not
afraid.
"And
Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the
water.
"And
he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the
water, to go to Jesus.
"But
when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried,
saying, Lord, save me.
"And
immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him,
O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?
"And
when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased.
"Then
they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou art
the Son of God" (Mark 14:22-33).
Truly,
when we focus with faith on the Savior in the storm, we are safe. We can walk
on water. Our faith in Him is what supports and sustains us and gives us peace. That is what keeps
us moving safely above the raging water.
Whenever
we, like Peter, become afraid and find ourselves sinking in despair, we can
also exercise faith from that place, crying out and reaching up so He
can lift us to safety.
I have
learned for myself that He does.
