Washed

Acts 1:1-5

When I was in Costa Rica, I visited Playa Hermosa during the last days of our trip. The sand was black, and the waves were monstrous. My buddy and I had a frisbee with us, and decided to start throwing as we stood ankle high in the water. Just a few hundred yards out, the white waves crashed. They looked like they were twelve feet tall, and there was this inner fear in each of us. There was this tension between staying in the ankle high water, or moving out a little deeper. As we threw the frisbee, errant throws kept moving us further out.

Pretty soon, we were treading water. Treading is an understatement. I found myself going from a friendly game of frisbee to a panicked, desperate, cry for help. As the water picked me off the ground like a conveyor belt, I knew what was coming. I and the monster waves were gravitating towards each other. Moments later, I lost all control. The first round of waves lifted me, then pounded me back into the sand. I had no option but to let it take me. I was scared shitless. I had moments to breathe in the process of being lifted, then as the water slammed me back down, I held my breath for what seemed an eternity.

Coming back up for air, I looked around to make sure my buddy was nearby. He was, and I yelled at him, letting him know that I was in trouble. He made his way over, and I latched onto his arm. I probably put him in a dangerous position, but he was much bigger and stronger than I. He dragged me to shore, and my heart gradually calmed down. I literally thought I was going to die. That's what it feels like when I lose control.

Perhaps this situation is not much different from being washed over by the spirit of God. I see it coming, but am not willing to get just deep enough to let it take control. I may drown. I may not be able to hold my breath long enough. I may die. I won't be in control. Yet, my way isn't working. My will ends up hurting me. I need to be washed over, filled, and given new life, but the waves are so damn intimidating and scary.