This morning, while waiting for my son at swim lessons, my eyes are drawn to a little girl in the beginner lane. Her classmates are in a single-file line at the pool’s edge. They’re practicing jumping in.
The little girl is at the front of the line and she is frightened. She’s in position. Knees bent. Arms reaching forward. But her toes curl tight over the tiled rim of the pool, and her little face wears worry.
Her instructor is in the water, with her arms also stretched forward. She’s offering words of encouragement and the safety net of her catch. But the tiny girl stands frozen, unable to jump. She’s bound to the edge of the pool by invisible cords of fear.
And I wonder, as I watch this child, how often I take the same position. Standing still in the thick mire of fear.
Sometimes I can hear the Lord whisper… It’s okay, Shawnelle, just trust. I’m here. Sometimes a promise comes through His Word, strong and shining as the mid-day sun. But I tremble. Cower. Hesitate to take a jump of faith.
Even though I know His arms are there.
Tension builds as time ticks. The line of expectant jumpers grows squirmy. The little girl squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them fast. She breathes deep.
And jumps!
The instructor catches her and there are claps and cheers. My own heart celebrates the leap, too. If she hadn’t jumped, this little one wouldn’t have experienced growth or blessing…
Or the joy of faith fulfilled.
Lord, where do you want me to trust you today? When I hear your encouragement, help me to jump right in! Amen.
