Last week, my daughter Emily and I walked to the pool from our beach house, just us girls. She was determined to ride the waterslide that had caught her eye the first day we walked around the campground. She hoisted a yellow tube to her shoulders and proceeded up the tall set of stairs all by her nine-year-old self while I, on the other hand, stayed behind, my 42-year-old feet planted on solid ground. Somewhere in my mid-thirties, I developed a significant fear of heights (enclosed water slides, jumping into pools, walking out on piers, and a host of other things).
Watching my brave little one climb those stairs brought tears to my eyes. She’s fearless. She makes a friend at every turn, dances wildly to her own beat, and just enjoys life—ice-cream-dripping-down-the-chin enjoys it.
Surrounded by the sounds of vacation—kids splashing in the pool, asking for slushies, and lifeguards blowing whistles—I stood and cried. I asked God, “Why can’t I do life brave, like her? Why does there seem to be such struggle? Why is relaxing such a foreign word, a seemingly distant realm?”
There in the sun, squinting to watch her make it to the top of the slide, God spoke to me. He spoke so clearly that it caught my breath. It made me feel so small, yet so significant. It made me wonder why He would take notice of me amid all the noise of the day, yet I was so grateful that He did, and does.
He reminded me that each morning, I have to come to Him to find my strength. I have to come to Him to conquer fear—to be brave. I have to come to Him to be my shield and my refuge. In my weakness, I run to Him; therefore, my weakness is a gift. My fear of letting go has brought me to Him over and over. Each day, He teaches me of the sufficiency of Himself.
And my brave little daughter, with blue eyes, freckled cheeks, and endless smiles, He has gifted her with weakness, too. That gift will also bring her to Him, for it will draw her to Him for the strength that she lacks.
When His Word says that He works all things for our good, He really means all things. He commands us not to be afraid. It’s then that He becomes our tower of strength so that we can fulfill His command. Why does He notice us? Why does He come to our rescue over and over again when we don’t heed His commands, when we don’t trust Him, and when we, as silly as it may sound, cry in water parks on vacation? Because He loves us perfectly and patiently and eternally.
And He promises to finish the work He’s begun in me.
~ By Sindy Fields
