Dragged under

(Photo: iStock)

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It’s just one of those days when I am being dragged under the water. I try to struggle, but the current is stronger than I.

I am lifted by the waves sporadically, enough to get the tiniest sliver of fresh air into my burning lungs before being dragged back under again.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How did I get here? How could I have messed up so badly?

Tell me to come, I said, and He did.

And for a time, everything was perfect. Everything was great. Everything was good.

But in one split second, everything changed.

The waves are whispering. They tell me I can’t beat them, that I will have to learn to breathe underwater. Fear grips me from all angles; doubt clouds my mind—should I bother? I can’t do this. I don’t have the mental, physical, emotional strength.

And strangely enough, when I cease the struggle there are no more waves. The wind stops howling. There is just the sunlight reflecting off the clear water as I stare not down but up at it from the depths below.

But this isn’t what I want. I would rather fight for those tiny occasional breaths than learn to breathe underwater and live my whole life that way.

So it begins again. The struggle. And this time, it’s harder than before.

My legs are burning, my eyes stinging with saltwater reminiscent of thousands of tiny needles. I am about to be dragged under again, but suddenly a hand reaches down. His strong grasp sends a surge of energy through my body, and I am lifted out of the white zone to take my first full inhalation of air.

There is a boat. I climb aboard. I look around to see jellyfish, their venom-filled tentacles poised to lightly tap their prey. Shark fins dip in and out of the waves on the horizon. A rip crashes against the rocks, eagerly anticipating its next victim.

But none of that matters, I realise, as the wind ceases and I bask in the reflective glow of the sunlight on the water.

I can see the shore.
I am on the other side of the water.
I have conquered
Because He is the Conqueror.

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