When Life is Like Learning How to Swim

I started taking swim lessons at a very young age, probably around three or four years old.

At first, I would always sit by the edge of the pool and cry. The idea of going into the water terrified me.

Eventually, I worked up the courage to dip my toes in, and from there, I learned how to swim. After so many moments of crying by the side of the pool, I joined a swim team.

And it just got me thinking…

How many times in this life do we cry by the edge of the shore when we’re called to go into the deeper waters? How many moments have we wanted to stay on the safety of familiar land, instead of braving the waves?

And how many times have we dipped our toes in, only to realize that we can keep going in those waters?

Sometimes, being called out to the deep ocean doesn’t mean walking on water.

Sometimes, it’s learning how to swim.

It’s a process. A process that can involve waiting by the shore, not wanting to face this new challenge. A process that involves dipping in your toes, and working up so much courage just to do so. That involves learning to stay afloat. To push through the tide that pulls you backwards, the force that drags you under, the fear that you’ll sink.

Yes, a lot of times being called out to the deeper oceans means learning how to swim.

I think it’s crazy that the little girl who cried by the edge of a pool ever joined a swim team.

But that little girl—She learned how to swim.

Becoming who God called us to be means going through a process. Growing by the day. Learning how to swim.

Those sinking moments

I started my cross-country season with a disappointing race. Same course that I had done freshman year, but fifteen seconds slower.

But in that, I was reminded of the value in just showing up to fight your battle. Just showing up, even if you risk sinking.

Because that first race wasn’t my day. The night before, I felt so weak and dizzy that I couldn’t bring myself to sit up on bed.

Instead, I found myself finishing up my homework on the bedroom floor.

And sometimes, life calls for doing your homework on the bedroom floor. For going to bed early. For burying your face into your blanket and repeating the same three-word prayer again and again, because you have no better words.

It can feel terrifying just dipping your toes in, getting your head under, trying to take a few strokes.

It’s learning how to swim.

Just because you’re a warrior doesn’t mean that every day you’ll be ready to give your best fight. Just showing up for battle can be hard enough at times.

And it can also mean enough at times, because your Savior has already won the war.

Peter was afraid when Jesus called him to walk on the water, but he still took a step. He didn’t have enough faith to stay standing up for long, but he still took a step.

We all have our sinking moments and our times of little faith. Those times when we take our eyes off our Savior, instead fearing the wind and waves. And it’s in those moments that we need to trust the grip of His hand.

“But when he saw the strength of the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand, caught hold of him, and said to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

~Matthew 14:30-31

When your faith is small, He will hold you in His hands. I love how these Scriptures describe Jesus reaching out to catch Peter, rather than Peter reaching out to grasp Jesus’ hand.

You don’t have to hold onto God, because He’s holding onto you.

And after you take another step and nearly sink, and keep stepping and nearly sinking, eventually those words “Why did you doubt?” will all make sense.

You’ll have felt Your Savior’s hand so many times that You can finally trust Him to keep holding You. And you’ll have so much trust that you’ll wonder, “Why did I ever doubt?“

It isn’t until you almost sink that you realize just how much you can trust Him.

Trust comes from taking steps of faith. From taking risks. From almost sinking, because then you’ll finally see that He will always hold onto you.

A whole ocean ahead of us

I remember driving home later that Saturday, consumed in my thoughts and trying not to beat myself up too much about the race.

And suddenly, I looked out the window and saw a pink sky fading into the blue horizon—a sunset over the ocean.

I had almost missed it.

I’ve seen many sunsets, many watercolor skies—but something about this one seemed to pull me closer to God. Looking out at the vast sea, stretched out beyond the highway, filled with me peace.

The ending matters more than the beginning, I remember thinking. And at that moment, I was only at the shore. Only just dipping my toes in.

I still had the rest of the season ahead of me, and a whole other ocean ahead of me. Only God knows just how far I’ll swim.

And when the second race came, I approached it with more boldness. After racing under a foggy sky with a sprinkling of rain (which I absolutely loved), I broke my goal time. It was the second-fastest time I have ever gotten for that distance.

Just a week had passed, and I had already improved so much from my first race of the season.

I was afraid on that first race. I had held back too much. But I had showed up, and I had dipped my toes in, even if I didn’t get far.

And sure, this is my fourth season. Sure, I’m a sophomore in high school now. Sure, I’ve been a Christian for as long as I can remember.

But in many ways, I’m still learning how to swim.

I’m not walking on water yet.

And that’s okay, because every day, we can lean on Christ’s strength to help us swim a little farther. <3