The mud was up to my chin, my feet barely touched bottom
and my head bobbed just above the surface. How
did I get myself into this? The marine standing at the edge of the creek
yelled at me to keep moving. I actually paid money to do this? Have I lost my mind? My feet felt like
lead weights as I tried to take a step; the muck was too dense for me to
maneuver through. I lifted my feet up
and tried to swim but it was like swimming against a strong current – I wasn’t
getting anywhere and I was growing tired, beaten down by the resistance. I saw my teammates struggling just ahead of
me; we had been able to help each other through all the other obstacles, lifting
each other up, carrying each other’s weight on our backs. But this one was different. We exchanged knowing glances – this one we
had to muddle through on our own. I must
have looked afraid because the marine, he softened, “Ma’am, you can’t swim
through this stuff, it’s just too thick.
The only way to make it through is to float, and hold on to the side
when you need support.”
I knew what he meant.
I had been in my own pit recently, trying so hard to get through the
thick, sticky muck of my own making. If
we reap what we sow, my harvest had come up empty. A barren field, dry, parched, waiting on the
living waters to rain down.
“For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on
the dry ground” Isaiah 44:3.
Sin had caught hold of me years earlier, and the enemy had
wrestled me to the ground. I didn’t
struggle as he bound the chains around me; I accepted them, certain that I was
getting what I deserved. But years of bondage had left my soul thirsty and
restless, an empty well longing to be filled.
If only I could have a drink, just a taste of something, perhaps that
would be enough to satisfy. I searched
for something to fill me up, drinking from the emptiness of all the other
wells. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I
cried out in my bondage, begging to drink of this water that comes without a
price.
“You have given him his heart’s desire and have not withheld
the request of his lips” Psalm 21:2
He is faithful even when I am not, and so the rains
came. Living water poured down on the
parched earth of my soul, until I was standing chin deep in mud. I couldn’t move forward, but still I didn’t
want to look back. What had I gotten
myself into? Did I ask for this? The
mud was coarse, murky with regrets and affliction, but still…there was
something about it…something in it…I knew it was good, and if only I would stop
kicking and just believe, He would get me to the other side. He breathed His
grace right into me, and I inhaled deep and long, letting Him fill me up so I
could float through the muck. I clung to
His Word for support as He carried me through the creek. We drifted slowly, only looking back so that
we could see how far we had come; He didn’t let my eyes linger behind us for
too long. And when I began to sink, he’d
remind me to breathe deep and His grace would fill me again. Sometimes it would hurt, wading through the
thickness with Him, but I kept my eyes on the other side and trusted He would deliver
me.
I came out of the mud that day bruised and battered, bearing
the marks of the chains and the wounds of the battle. But His mercy rained down and washed me clean,
and He healed my wounds with a touch of His hand. I got back in the race, knowing there was no
obstacle He wouldn’t help me through, and I left the chains behind as I sprinted
towards the finish line.
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