OUT OF HARM'S WAY

OUT OF HARM’S WAY

Recently, I read an interesting brief essay by David Jass that I’d like to share with you.

So there we were, fifty 10-year-old boys in the Minnesota mid-winter cold, packed on a school bus, heading for the big downtown YMCA.  We were going swimming.  In can still sense the excitement, the “can hardly wait” anticipation. These were the days of owning the world, of simply being.

And we arrived at the Y.  Out of the bus, running through the cold, keeping up with the speed of each other, and into the sounds and wet warmth of the building.  I can smell the pool.  I hear it echo to us as we tore off our parkas and boots – shirts and pants flying.  We were naked as the day we were born.  No suits for us today, not when we were about to plunge into the waters of the “Boys Only” pool.

I can still feel it.  The event we had been waiting for since it was announced by our teacher 5 weeks before.  All there was to do now was run.  And run we did, flying into the water.  I guess we never heard the commands to slow down, to wait for the person in charge, or to walk around to the other end of the pool where the depth was a reasonable three feet.

I couldn’t swim and was instantly under the heaviness of water at the deep end of the pool.  I knew I was drowning.  I had heard that one would surface three times.  After the third gasp above water, down I would go , never to surface again.

Boy, was I scared!  I surfaced for the first time.  It was bright and noisy.  I thought of yelling for help, but could not.  Something inside stopped me.  I sank again and resurfaced.  Once more I thought it wise to yell “HELP” but could not.  They also say that on the third time under you will see your life pass before your eyes.  And, indeed, mine did.  This short life, only 10 years, did not take long to pass. It didn’t have much to say.  I committed to yell for help on this, the third rising.

Just then, I felt a curved hooking devise around my belly, lifting me clear out of the water and placing me gently on the side of the pool.  On that memorable day, I never had a chance to face my resolve to finally ask for help.  Yet still, in these last 45 years of life, I have needed the help of others so often and asked for it so seldom.  But I have always felt the hand of God curves gently around me and holding me securely, placing me on the side, out of harms way.

If you need help, never be ashamed or afraid to ask for it.  But know that GOD is always there, and surely He’s got your back!

Sisters and brothers, be continually blessed, and please (above all else) MAKE SURE YOU ARE READY TO MEET OUR SOON COMING KING.  Maranatha!