The small waterfall wasn't powerful enough to speed the river, but a steady undercurrent was churned at the river's rocky bottom. A dozen or so grungy students were laughing and splashing in the Panamanian water, relaxing and enjoying the beauty country they had been serving in for the last several days. A smooth boulder rose high out of the water - the perfect slide. One by one we climbed up the embankment to the rock's peak, one by one we went sliding down its mossy surface and plunged into the cold water, one by one we were brought to the surface with the help of a strong pair of arms.
But I slipped. I fell too soon. No one noticed that I had been pulled deep into the water by that surprisingly strong current. No arms reached down to bring me bobbing and laughing to the surface.
I cannot say for certain how long I was underwater, but I can tell you still exactly how it felt the moment I realized I was going to drown: terrifying. I have never felt such fear before in my life. I panicked and kicked with everything that I had, but my 5'3" frame didn't have the strength to fight the water. The water was inky, thick, and icy cold - but even against that ice, my lungs burned hot in my chest. I let out puffs of air, trying not to breath in.
Too late - water seeped through my nose and down my throat, and with one involuntary cough a great gulp of liquid filled by mouth and forced itself in. I knew - as warmth filled my body, my mind went blank, and peace came over me.
In that moment I felt a jerk on the back of my neck as my body was pulled back to the surface - back to life. Someone had alerted my teammate that I had fallen under, and just in time I was pulled out. I was saved.
That isn't the only time I've experiencing drowning, though. I experience it every time I put to much on my plate. Every time I allow my circumstances to steal my joy. Every time my anxiety rises over me like waves and a current of depression pulls me down to the rocky, black bottom. It is a real, palpable feeling - drowning emotionally, mentally, spiritually.
It was during one of the darkest times of my college experience that I woke up in the middle of the night, crying. "God, what is this? God I feel like I'm drowning. God please, pull me out." In the middle of my tears, a peace came over me. I calmed, breathed deeply, and whispered to myself, "I will cling to the Rock that is higher than I." It was the calming thought that I had something to hold onto, something to cling to, something keeping me above the waves.
Over the course of the last year, Psalm 61 - the chapter from which that reference is taken - has become the anthem of my life. Unexpected twists and bends in my story, bouts of anxiety, a completely unknown future staring me in the face have all swept up around me and many times left me overwhelmed. It is in those moments, when I feel myself sinking, that I remember what it is that I need to hold onto. Rather, Who it is that is holding on to me.
Take a deep breath, dear friend. The waves will subside and rise again in their own time - but turn your eyes to Christ. He will keep you above the waves, he will not let you drown.
