Break the Grip of the Rip

A beautiful sunny summer Southern California day, probably 1982, the beach was busy.  San Diego school kids were regularly briefed on beach safety; have a buddy, this flag means this, that flag means that, here’s what you do in various situations.  You should pick a landmark on shore near your spot on the beach and look back every once in a while as you play in the surf, it’s common to drift down the coast and get a little lost.

This day moved along as any other.  See the wave coming, squat in anticipation and at just the right moment… JUMP!  What a floating sensation, the bigger the wave, the better.  Wave after wave extends the joy and then the occasional wipe out.  Ugh, salt in the throat and somehow it triggers an instant awareness of the sand in your suit!  Simultaneously, one notices their own flailing arms, their feet reaching randomly seeking the firm sandy bottom.  Whoa and finally, standing up gingerly opening the eyes.  For some reason the sunshine worsens the sensation on salt watery eyeballs.  You rub away the discomfort to finally regain sight only to see the next wave about to crash right into your face; and then again, the flailing, searching, discomfort, blindness, adrenaline, rubbing, squinting and finally seeing… whoa, JUMP NOW!  Aw, the floating sensation again, and so on.

Hmm, where’s my landmark?  Wait, why haven’t I landed on the sandy bottom?  What’s going on?  Where is everyone?  Wait… is this, a rip current?  SWIM, swim perpendicular to the flow… don’t stop.  Eventually, they said if you swim perpendicular to the current you’ll get out.  SWIM.  Okay, did I make it?  What’s that sound?

Daaaa… Duh, Daaaa… Duh, Daa, Daa, Daa, Daa… DaDaDaDaDaDaDaDa…
(Um, it’s the jaw’s theme music… it was 1982!)

What!?  No, way… I’m just imagining…  “Hey! Hey, over here!  HEY!  You guys, look over here!”  What are they doing out here?  And, why are they making out over there, it’s deep… do they hear the jaws music too?  “HELP!” SWIM!  Just keep swimming, perpendicular to the current… you’ll swim out of it.  Ugh, what did they say was at the end of this current?  SWIM!  SWIM!  “Hey! HELP!”  Where’s my landmark?  Where’s Jaws?  Where are those stupid floating people sucking face!

“HEY! KID!”

Huh?

“KID!  Are you alright?”

“NO!”

“Do you need help?”

“YES, YES!”

He reached out his hand to me.  Next thing I know I was yanked into an orange motorboat and we were skipping back to shore.  “Didn’t you see the warning flag?”

“Um, no… I guess I drifted down to far… I didn’t see the flag.”

I spent the rest of the day at the beach punished on the shore.  It was okay though, I was EXHAUSTED.  My little grade school spirit was broken.  I thought those boats were soft, but they are not.  I had a bloody scrape on my knee to prove it.  I sat, watched and thought.

In addition to forgetting to check for my landmark, I made a mistake that day.  It’s the real reason I was “beached”.  I had neglected to get a buddy.  I was shy.  I was afraid to make myself vulnerable to the rejection of a potential beach buddy.  So, I ventured off alone.  What a familiar problem.  Sometimes, even with a buddy, we walk in isolation.

That is the first time I remember being rescued.  The first time I remember really wanting help.  The first time I sat recovering, realizing that the ocean was a lot bigger than me… surrendered, humbled.  I don’t know what would have happened if those lifeguards hadn’t saved me.

I’d spend other days jumping in the surf, rip current free experiences where many to be had before the big move to Texas.  That day though, that day is one I’ll NEVER forget.  It changed me somehow, I grew up a little.  I’ve felt that way at other times in life as well.  There have been times when life’s circumstances or relationships had me flailing around and blinded; seeing and hearing things that weren’t really there.  Swimming frantically, but intentionally perpendicular to the problem, just as common wisdom would recommend.  Sometimes, I swim out alright on my own.  But, other times… well, I need rescuing.

I don’t realize I need it until the cramps set in… until my spirit is broken… until I’m hurt bad enough, lost enough, feeling alone enough until I just want to give up.  Often times, at that point, I don’t know if I care or not anymore.  It gets all built up.  A constipation of self reliance stunts our system.  The more backed up our heart and mind gets the deader we feel.  It’s a lonely place to be… out in the depths where no one really HEARS your shouts, where no one SEES you struggling.  I’ve been rescued in those times too, by one who SEES, one who HEARS, one who really KNOWS.

There’s another way… an intended way.  Perpetual surrender that fuels rescue.  Constant and immediate never built up to bursting and distant.  Something like pushing the bike pedal with one foot while the other prepares to take over… now flying!  We must continually let go, learning it’s not truly offensive to rely on our Knower.  Perfect knower, the one we’ve always longed for who knows how to touch, adjust, stretch, fine tune, fuel and fulfillment of our potential is inevitable as we are, in fact, a precise part of The plan.

Perpetual surrender fueling a constant perfect posture never vulnerable or weak, rescued… infused now ready.  Ready and prepared.  Ready and somehow invincible fueled by the strength of surrender.

Reality is, the outstretched hand is never far away.  Sometimes, in the midst of distress all we have to do is unclench our eyelids and see.  Stop yelling and hear…  Realize that surrendering to the strength of God, in the end, is never weak.  There is never need to succumb to the fear.  It’s actually the beginning of real strength and provides a true sense of direction, a true wisdom.  It begins to unveil the reality of the new way.  Slowly, your eyes and ears perceive a new Kingdom a restored surrounding with people being made whole again, even you.