in too deep.
Every summer, we visit the same beach in the Florida panhandle with a mix of family and friends. The place we stay has a large river canal that feeds into the ocean behind our condo, which our crew always refers to as “the little beach”. It has a small sandy beach next to a long dock, it’s full of hermit crabs and little darting fish, and the traffic of boats or sometimes even barges that blast their long horns for the kids on the shore will pass. The kids became restless playing in the sand, so they began jumping off the dock into the water, and after that lost its novelty, they began to jump off the upper platform of the pontoon boat tied to the pier. They were testing their limits, busting out the flips, and making some waves of their own.
Since it’s more of a river, the only “crashing waves” on the shores are the wakes coming in off the passing boats. The river current can take some pretty intense shifts with the changing of the tides however, and this day was no different. There had been a pretty big storm the night before, and it was stronger than usual. I was splashing around with our toddler on the edge of the beach, watching the other big kids take turns jumping off the boat and giving all of the “ooh’s” and “aah’s” required.
All of a sudden, we heard our friend’s son yell out, and in front of him was my seven-year-old, Ollie, bobbing in the water, gasping for air, unable to cry out for help. I haven’t been a certified lifeguard in years, but I recognized that immediately - he was an active drowning victim. His friend, Kam, had cried out, and was trying to help boost him above the water, but he couldn’t help him without going under himself. He was putting himself in danger by trying to help him. As soon as he had gotten our attention, three adults immediately dropped everything and ran or swam out to meet them. It was my husband who made it to him first. JoJo ran as far as he could down the dock and dove in, swimming over to help both boys make it the few remaining feet to the spot where they could stand up in the water. The current was so strong after Ollie had jumped off of the boat into the water and worked against him, so he wasn’t able to swim back. He got scared and tired and didn’t know what to do next, and it never occurred to him to just swim to the shore instead. By the Lord’s kindness, our friend’s son saw him and stayed calm, doing all that he knew to do to try to help him. If he hadn’t seen him… you know what? We don’t even need to go there. I’m just so thankful that he did.
Weeks later, I was talking to my kids about the Lord’s love for them. We were reading Psalm 139, talking about how the Lord knit us together and knows every single thing about us. He knows our thoughts, the color of our eyes before we even open them; he knows our good days and our bad days, and exactly how many of each we will have. The Lord knows everything we will come to accomplish in our lifetimes and will see every shameful and embarrassing moment we will ever experience. And He doesn’t just tolerate us; he LOVES us.
As we dipped deeper into the Lord’s love for us, we started reading Romans 8:38-39:
“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
As we looked for whatever promises we could find tucked in these verses, you know what we concluded? God knows us, and He is with us no matter what. That no matter what we do, what comes our way, he will not stop loving us. If I could send my kids out of my house and into the world learning only that, it would be enough.
I thought about how to connect this vast abstract idea in a way they could relate to themselves, and this day popped into my mind. The day Ollie almost drowned. So that is sin. You jump in, and sometimes it’s way fun. Sometimes you can keep your head up for awhile, but eventually you get worn out and don’t know what to do next, and you cannot save yourself. My son’s eyes grew so big, enraptured in every word that was coming out of my mouth.
But Jesus is our friend who isn’t afraid to get in the water and pull us out. Instead, he gives us solid ground to stand on, and restores us to our Heavenly Father. He is our voice when we cannot speak or cry out for help, the one that saves our lives and preserves us. In Him, we are safe, secure, and whole once more.
I know every single metaphor unravels at some point when comparing to heavenly things. But as of that day, my son knew what it felt like to not be able to help himself. He knew fear. He knew helplessness. He knew what it felt like to be in too deep. He now knows what it’s like to need help, to need someone to save him desperately.
Tacie asked me the question, “But what if nobody had seen him?” And then she quietly answered, “… but I guess God knows his number of days too. That would have just been how many days God gave him.” And I almost wept when she said it. Because we know that nothing can separate us from his love, even if he lets it hurt. And that is a promise.
