When you pass through the waters, I will be with you ... Isaiah 43:2
Helpless. Alone in a vast expanse of tossing,
tumbling blue-gray waves, I searched the horizon for help when the shape of a
small boat appeared. I called out as I fought against the pounding waves toward
the only hope of rescue and saw something fly through the air. Was it a life
preserver? My haven, my only source of survival—yet so far away I doubted my
ability to reach it. When I raised my head for a breath, another wave smashed
into my face. I choked and sputtered, my vision, blurred from tears and seawater,
fixed on that one small, bobbing hope.
Thunder rumbled from dark clouds roiling above in a
sky as dark as the water, dragging me back two strokes for every one I took. I
had to make it. My legs ached. My lungs burned. My shoulders knotted with
exhaustion. Waves crashed higher and higher, and the life preserver seemed to
be floating away.
I paused, treading water, and waved a quivering arm above my
head. “Wait!” I spat out the salty water that washed into my mouth. “I’m
coming. Please, don’t leave me! I can’t swim anymore.”
The life preserver sailed across the water, smacking
against the side of my head, and I grabbed it. Relief. I wrapped my shaking
arms around it, my spirits buoyed by the firm tug on the rope, grateful for the
unseen hand pulling me toward my rescuer. I was safe at last.
The figure in the boat was obscured in darkness, but
I clung tight, overjoyed as each tug on the rope drew me closer. Perhaps he had
a warm blanket to ease the chills that racked my body. My teeth chattered until
I could scarce take a breath. A drink of fresh water to wash the salt from my
lips would be heaven. Just a few more yards to go.
My hand bumped against the boat and I looked up at
the imposing form of my rescuer, silhouetted against a ray of sun shining
through a break in the clouds. “Th-th-thank y-y-ou.”
No hand reached down to pluck me from the waves. No
voice spoke words of reassurance. The man sat, taking up the oars and beginning
to tow me through the water. Perhaps the boat was full? I saw no other
survivors. There seemed room enough for me. “P-please, I can’t hold on much
longer.”
His head dipped in a nod, but he only rowed on,
strong, firm strokes drawing the boat toward a shore I could not see.
“Please sir, could you help me into the boat? I’m
weak and numb—so tired.” The steady pull as the oars swished through the water
was the only answer. I closed my eyes and concentrated on keeping my head above
the water, praying to reach the shore.
“Trust me.” His deep tone resonated through my soul.
I knew that voice. “You’re safe, my child, safe in the center of my will. Can
you not trust the man who died for you to do what’s best?”
A wave, more massive any than I had faced washed
over me, stealing the breath from my body. I sputtered as water streamed down my
face and gasped, drawing air into emptied lungs. “Jesus? Is that you? Please,
will you not help me into the boat?”
“When the time is right, my child. Hold on. I’m here.”
“But Jesus, the next wave could drown me. I’m so
tired and cold.”
“Hold fast. Your rest will come. I’ve got you.”
I closed my eyes, tightened my tenuous grip on the
rope, and leaned my weary head against the life preserver. My heart screamed what
I felt too weak to say. My God is for me,
so nothing can overcome me. Even these waves will not destroy me. Nothing can
stand against His power.
With every ounce of strength, I heaved a breath.
“How long?”
The swish of the oars stopped and the boat slowed as
a gentle hand settled on my head. “Dear one, I am more interested in your
character than your comfort. I forge my greatest servants in battle, not in
ease. When the time is right, I’ll lift you up. Trust me. Breathe my name.”
***
I’ve been there. So weak I thought I could not hold
on one more second. So weary I felt giving myself up to the waves preferable to
holding on. So overwhelmed I had no words of hope for anyone. So fragile I
could do nothing for myself. But my Savior says He holds me safe in the palms
of His hands and underneath me are His everlasting arms. He keeps a bottle
filled with my tears. He has numbered every hair on my head. He lifts the weary
as on the wings of eagles. All is well when He is near.
Because I have known Him for a long time, and I have
His word, I know that Jesus will never let go of me. I know He will bring me
safely home in His perfect time.
Lord, give me strength to hold on when I cannot see
the shore.
©
Copyright by Norma Gail Thurston Holtman, August 1, 2016
About the Author:
Norma
Gail is the author of the contemporary Christian romance, Land of My Dreams, winner of the 2016 Bookvana Religious Fiction
Award. A women’s Bible study leader for over 21 years, her devotionals and
poetry have appeared at ChristianDevotions.us, the Stitches Thru Time blog, and
in “The Secret Place.” She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers
and Romance Writers of America. Norma is a former RN who lives in the mountains
of New Mexico with her husband of 40 years. They have two adult children.
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