The river runs gently over the rocks. The cool water is inviting. It beckons, “Come.”

At first I step into the shallows. The water rushes softly over my ankles. There is no fear here. I can still feel the riverbed beneath my feet.

A voice calls, “Come deeper.”

I step out in faith. The water rises to my waist. I feel the current now and instinctively dig my feet in to hold my ground. I trust but I also brace myself.

Again the voice whispers, “Come.”

I hesitate. I am not a strong swimmer. I have reached the edge of my comfort. The shore is close. I could easily turn back to what feels safe and steady.

Then the voice speaks more clearly:
“Do you trust in your own strength, or in Me? I will keep you. I will not let you go.”

Slowly, I loosen my footing. The river lifts me. My feet no longer touch the ground. The current carries me.

At first there is fear the swirl of water, the loss of control. But then I begin to see beauty I could never have seen while standing still. The river takes me through places I could not have reached on my own.

Ahead, a waterfall appears. It is beautiful, but it looks dangerous. I can choose to turn back or continue to trust.

The waters grow rough at times. I feel as though I might go under. Yet each time, a steady hand guides me through the turbulence and into stillness again.

I learn something in the deeper waters:
I was never meant to fight the river.
I was meant to trust the One who commands it.

Even when I feel alone.
Even when I think I am drifting by myself.
I am held.

And I am never let go.

“I wrote this during a season of learning to trust God in deeper waters. I don’t know what you’re walking through right now, but maybe this will remind you that you are held too.”