Walking on the Rocks

            I just recently returned from a week of church camp, the same one I attended as a camper through junior high and high school. I can’t help but compare my experiences, even though 20 years separates them. Much about camp life has changed. The most important upgrade—air conditioning in all buildings! Pretty sure camp would just be a memory if that particular change had not been included. Activities have been added and others removed as times and teenagers continue to change. But much remains the same. Beautiful singing under the stars. Late nights and early mornings. Baptisms at the river.

            The river. A landmark at camp. A cherished spot for all. Worship, play, baptisms, Bible studies and more happen on the shore or in the clear flowing water of the Medina River. Unfortunately, the river, no longer draws me. In fact, I dread the trip down the hill to the bank of the river. What was once a favorite now represents challenge and possible danger.

            As I sit on my golf cart, I watch teenager after teenager run across the river rocks as they seek to get the best seat or at least a seat with friends. They fly across, never even looking down at the rocks that make up the shore of the river. I, too, once navigated the rocks without a single thought. They were just there, nothing to consider or slow me down. Not so now. Those rocks make me incredibly nervous. One wrong step and my already weak and injured ankle could be damaged beyond repair. The rocks scare me.

            As a teenager my ankles were as strong and hearty as the next guy. The rocks posed no threat. But add 20 years and an ankle weakened by Cerebral Palsy and the rocks that went unnoticed, now seem menacing. To get my camp chair with the other adults, who line the back of the youth, I must walk across about 20 feet of unstable river rock. And typically I do this multiple times throughout the week. It is exhausting both mentally and physically.

            It isn’t walking on water but the parallels still exist. My weak ankle causes me to focus on the rocks, the danger. The teenagers’ strong ankles allow them to cross the rocks oblivious to any danger. Rocks. Waves. Strong faith. Weakened faith. Eyes focused on the danger. Eyes focused on Jesus.

            Navigation through life, focus, and attitude directly link to the condition of faith. A weak faith sees ever danger as it forever focuses on the circumstances it continually encounters. A strong faith, eyes on Jesus, moves through circumstances confident and steady. If I want to one day cross those rocks as I once did, I must strengthen my ankle. A strong faith allows us to yield to the Good Shepherd with whom crossing through dangerous ground no longer holds fear, for our Shepherd will get us safely through. This does not mean rocks or circumstances are removed. What it means is—He has promised and He will faithfully see us through.