In at the deep end

I grew up in the small East Yorkshire village of Keyingham, where my dad ran the village post office.  I feel greatly blessed that the vast majority of my childhood memories are positive.  One not so positive memory, however, is my first day at school: I cried all the way there!  Having spent 4 or 5 blissfully happy years at home, I didn't fancy going to this strange, alien place called school.  As it happened, I soon settled into the routine of life in the local village school and made some good friends.  It was only a small school, and over a period I became very comfortable with school life.

The time came, of course, to leave my village school and move to "the big school" at Withernsea.  As an eleven-year-old (still in short trousers!), arriving Withernsea High School was a massive shock to the system.  It seemed such a large school, so confusing and not a little frightening.  From being a relatively big fish in the village school 'pool' I suddenly became a very tiny fish in a huge new school pool.  Once again, however, I gradually got used to the routine of life in the big school (in the event, my time there lasted only just over 3 years, but that's another story). 

One of the experiences which life in the new school brought was swimming lessons.  For a period of time we were marched each week down to the local open air swimming pool, where a teacher attempted to teach us the art of swimming.  Perhaps the water temperature got to me, but I never did become a confident swimmer.  Even now, I have little self-confidence when I find myself out of my depth in water, and much prefer to be near the sides of a swimming pool!

I suppose this train of thought arose because I was pondering recently how often during my years as a Methodist Minister I have felt myself 'out of my depth' in a metaphorical sense.  Next year will see the 25th anniversary of the year when I left theological college and began life as a Methodist Minister, but that 'I'm out of my depth' feeling is something which I still regularly experience.  There is absolutely no way I could undertake this role using my human abilities alone.  There have been many times, over the years, when I have felt totally unable, in my own strength, to fulfil my calling.

I am comforted by some words which St Paul wrote, when he relates what he felt God say to him when Paul was struggling: 'My power works best in weakness' (2 Corinthians 12:9).  It is often only when we accept that our human strength is not enough that we realise how much we need God's power and presence.  Another encouraging verse from the Bible comes in Isaiah 43:2, when God says, 'When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.'

It is my experience that if we make the decision to follow Jesus, there will be many times when he calls us to take steps of faith, to go into deep waters, to experience that feeling of being out of our depth and beyond our own capabilities.  If we are willing to take those steps of faith, we find that God is faithful to help us and be with us.  There is a part of me which longs for a more comfortable life, one in which the tasks I face are well within my capabilities.  But I know that if I chose that kind of life I would miss out on God's plans and purposes for me.  As John Ortberg said in his great book, "If You Want To Walk On Water, You've Got To Get Out Of the Boat."  The deep end may not be the most comfortable place to be, but it's certainly the most exciting!