Trust in Adonai forever, for Adonai Elohim is an everlasting rock.
~ Isaiah 26:4

A few years ago, my husband wanted to raft down the river. I am not a thrill seeker; white water rafting is not something I do. My idea of thrill seeking is getting lost on a back country road. Heart rate increasing, I suggested the lake.

“It will be fine, ” he said. “It will be fun,” he said. I do not believe for a second he intentionally lied.

The big day arrived and we started down the river. The water moved much faster than that with which I could force myself to be comfortable. But I settled in. We had roughly eight miles to go. Sometimes you just have to trust. Sometimes you just have to go with it.

At times the water was smooth as glass. At other times rocky and turbulent.
Sometimes we could see what was coming next. Sometimes we could not.

After a particular stretch of white capped water and protruding rocks, I was grateful when the water smoothed and the sound of rushing water dissipated. This was more what I had in mind.

Calm. Peaceful. Still.

I could see far in the distance and all seemed to be calm. He yelled ahead to me that he was sure the worst was over. I finally felt comfortable and at ease. After a few moments I could hear the sound of rushing water, but I couldn’t see it. At first, I was curious. When the kayak picked up speed, I became a wee bit alarmed.

By the time I realized I was rushing toward a waterfall, it was too late. There was no time to tuck away my camera. No time to try to steer the kayak. No time to contemplate escape routes. All I could do was hold on and pray. And pray is exactly what I did. Although, certainly, it escaped my lips as a gasping sort of howl. When the kayak tipped over the edge, I saw how high I was perched. I closed my eyes in a heart attack inducing panic.

When I hit bottom, to my sheer amazement, I was upright. The rush of water spun the kayak around and lodged me between two rocks facing the waterfall. I heard my husband call my name and then I saw the front of his kayak.

Now my husband is a swimmer, not a kayaker. And it served him well. Because when he saw where he was headed, he leaned back and to the right and the kayak flipped. As his kayak came rushing by me, I was able to grab it. His jacket escaped and floated by with a few other personal items.

It took a few minutes for him to emerge. But he managed to get himself to the bank.

Miraculously. Blessedly. Unscathed.

Our walk with Yeshua can be this same way.
At times it is smooth as glass. At other times rocky and turbulent.
Sometimes we can see what is coming next. Sometimes we can not.

And after walking one path after another, each time we emerge changed.

Miraculously. Blessedly. Refined.

This pursuit of holiness can be like tumbling over a waterfall. Drowning one minute; emerging breathless and grateful the next. Just as we had to navigate the river’s winding and bending on that day, we must daily steer ourselves in a direction toward Yeshua. It is a choice to follow Him. Or not. These choices are diverging paths that either conform us to the world or mold us into the image of our Creator. In every path we choose, in every step we take, we choose to trust and hope that no matter what comes, it is meant to produce holiness.

As I sat there, stuck in the rocks and waiting for my husband to swim over, I noticed something that in my panic I had missed. I saw to the far left of me a gentle flowing bit of water along the river’s edge that gradually would have brought us down had we only known it was there.

But sometimes it is good to not know what is coming. Sometimes knowing would alter our actions. And then we miss the miracles. We miss His power. We miss His strength. We miss the beauty of watching Him work and create holiness in us.

Looking back over my life, had I known the future, I would have run as hard and fast as I could in the other direction. But I was never meant to run away. I was designed to run to Yeshua. In every moment, good or bad, I was meant to close my eyes to the chaos around me, trust in Him, cling to hope.

There are those times, we will tumble, we will be spun around, lodged between troubles unable to move. When the panic fades and we open our eyes, we will notice the most beautiful thing, something that has escaped us in the chaos. Yeshua is there. And it is…

Calm. Peaceful. Still.

We have emerged miraculously, beautifully, unscathed, looking just a little more like Him. And let us always remember, that Yeshua’s reflection in us is where our true beauty lies.

When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark,
you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off.
You sit still and trust the engineer.
~Corrie Ten Boom

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