On an exercise bike at the gym, I had a good view of the lane swimmers in the pool below- the accomplished, the smooth, the ones who were giving it their all in spite of a lack of proficiency. , ploughing up and down, up and back through the pool.
I am not a good swimmer. I can make my way in the water, get from one end to the other, but little more. I realised as I watched the swimmers below me that I was more concerned, whilst swimming, to stay afloat, than to pay attention to the style, the efficiency of my strokes. Essentially I still had something of that old fear which I guess we've all had as we learn to swim- will the water hold me up?
I wonder how far this translates as a metaphor for love of God, trusting God, but more especially how my head belief is in tune with what my heart knows . How my love for God (your love for God?) is infused with some remnant of a false picture of God, some vestiges of an authoritarian figure, or an uncaring one, someone who will let me down at some future point.
Water has proved countless times it will hold me up. I love that floating experience, just lying there, held up, letting the water take me where it will. But in my head there's still a doubt. Maybe we will never entirely rid ourselves of false notions of God, until we see 'face to face'. I have enough of the truth to know I am held up, and as I live in the waters of grace, I hope some of the falsity, the doubt, disappears.
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