For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes

Romans‬ ‭1‬:‭16

I’ve always thought of myself as being in the boat.

It’s hard to accept the flailing of my life as being actual desperation. It’s hard to acknowledge that others have died in places I escaped from.

There seem to be an unending amount of life jackets thrown from scripture. I saw these through my childhood and recognized them as needed pieces of help for those not already in the boat.

And it wasn’t as though I leaped off the side and dove into the water. It was a gradual dismantling of the craft that protected me.

Board by board I undid enough to make a gaping hole through which I could descend. And wasn’t it done through curiosity? Can’t we help but being curious, stupid things?

Out in the cold water nothing is safe. There is nothing to grasp on to. Driftwood and debris pass by unhelpfully and seem only to mock as they’re pushed under and away with every frantic effort to hold on to them.

And the effort slows and drifts away with each passing day. Hope flits away with enough time at sea.

In despair, though, there were moments of memory. Recollections of verses long left behind but apparently unforgettable. With spits and flickers, they give some buoyancy to my otherwise deflated heart.

I don’t understand what is and continues to be at work, but there is power in scripture, there is power in hope, there is power in belief.

Enough at least to start swimming in the right direction. I’ve gotta move. Even in the ocean before me, I had to move toward help to be given it.

God help me remain willing to move.