The Lifeguard of Our Souls
by Tracy Gordon
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…” –Isaiah 43:2-3
As a swim instructor, when I am teaching someone to swim, it’s not just about teaching a sport. It’s about giving them the tools to survive. Water is beautiful, but without the right skills, it can be deadly. When I teach a student to float, kick, and breathe, I am actively giving them a defense against drowning. I am teaching them to save their own life and preparing them to rescue others. The first lesson is trust. To the learner, the water can feel deep, unfamiliar, and overwhelming. However, as the instructor, I see what the learner cannot yet see. What I see is that the body can float, the breath can steady, and fear does not have to decide the outcome.
In many ways, our life of faith is like this. Sin and the brokenness of this world are like deep, turbulent waters and God does not always remove us from the water. Sometimes He teaches us to trust Him in it. He enters the deep water with us. Through His death and resurrection, He became our ultimate Lifeguard. He pulled us out of the depths, placed our feet on solid ground, and breathed His life back into us.
My job as a swim instructor mirrors this divine rescue in a tangible way. I meet my students in their fear. Just as Jesus meets us in our anxiety, I take the hand of a terrified student and show them they are safe. I teach them to trust. Swimming requires letting go of control and trusting the water to hold you up. Faith requires letting go of control and trusting Jesus to hold you up. In Isaiah 43: 2-3, the Lord is not saying, “If you pass through the waters,” but “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” The promise is not that we will never face deep places; the promise is that we will never face them alone.
Think of Peter stepping out of the boat toward Jesus. For a moment his eyes were fixed on the One who called him, and he did what fear said was impossible. But when Peter got scared, he took his focus off of Jesus and began to sink. Even then, Jesus did not stand at a distance and scold him. Jesus immediately reached out His hand and caught him.
A good swim instructor does not shame a frightened student for swallowing water or needing help. A good instructor stays close, teaches patiently, and helps the student learn the rhythm: trust, breathe, reach, kick, and keep going. Our Lord is even more patient. He calls us into deeper faith, but He also stays near enough to catch us. He teaches us how to breathe prayer when panic rises, how to float on grace when we are tired, and how to move forward together when the current feels strong.
We are not called to remain safely on the edge of the pool, watching faith from a distance. We are called to trust the Teacher, step into the water, and help one another learn. Some among us are taking first steps. Some are tired from treading water. Some are learning to trust again after a frightening season, and some have been swimming for years and can encourage others with patient words like, “God is with you. Keep your eyes on Jesus. You are not alone.” You might ask yourself, “Where is God inviting me to trust Him more deeply?” and “What fear keeps pulling my eyes away from Jesus?” Let’s remember that faith is not pretending the water is shallow. Faith is trusting that Jesus is present in the deep. He is the One who calls, the One who teaches, the One who reaches, and the One who brings us safely through.
Lord Jesus, thank You for being our Rescuer when we are drowning in our own sin and fear. Teach us to trust Your voice, receive Your help, and encourage one another with patience and love. When we are afraid, steady our breathing with prayer. When we begin to sink, remind us that Your hand is already reaching toward us. Thank You, Jesus! We pray this in Your Holy Name, Amen.