It all depends... on who's got your back.

"And when the disciples saw Him (Jesus) walking on the sea, they were frightened, saying, 'It is a ghost!' And they cried out for fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them saying, 'Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.' And Peter answered Him and said, 'Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.' And He said, 'Come!' And Peter got out of the boat, and walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But seeing the wind, he became afraid, and beginning to sink, he cried out, saying, 'Lord, save me!' And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and took hold of him...." - Matthew 14:26-31

JAWS almost ruined it for me... the beach, that is. That summer evening in 1975 I stood with my parents in a line stretching around the block near the Broadway Theater to see the movie that would alter forever my relationship with the coast. You think I jest? I kid you not, I still have a very real, very irrational fear of things that lurk beneath the surface of the murky waters.

Before my fifteenth year I was a fish! I'd dive head-first into the waves, swim... float all without a care in the world. The Texas coast was my "it" place to be, and I loved every minute there. When I was a kid my dad would take me out on one of those blue rental floats. You know the kind... the one with the yellow, rubber ends... just like the one that got eaten in the movie along with the kid riding on it! I would ask my dad, "Can you touch bottom?" He'd always say no, but I'm pretty sure he was just pulling my leg (at least I hoped he was!) As long as my dad was out there with me, I seemed invincible. That would all change in the span of a couple of hours one innocent Friday evening.

The night I came home from that movie, I lay awake in bed, replaying the scenes over and over in my mind. I was so gripped with fear that I wouldn't let my hand hang over the side of my mattress. I curled up into a ball, smack-dab in the middle, clutching the sheets tight to my chest. It was ridiculous and totally unwarranted... this fear, but it had a hold of me and it never let go.

Fast-forward some forty-seven years to this past July. We had planned an all-family vacation to Galveston for a few days, and our eight-year old grandson came along. We had a lovely time. The weather was perfect! We set up on a little spot that had minimal traffic and wasn't very crowded. Out came the beach chairs, ice chest, and shade cover. Ben helped us drag out the quilt, snacks, and his shovel. He had protested all the way over there that he wasn't going in the water (I promise you... I have NEVER spoken to him about sharks... or JAWS. One traumatized individual in the family is quite enough!!) Ben is just kind of a land lover.

However...

As the rest of us ventured into the surf that beckoned (and, yes, I went also... I've mellowed a lot in my old age), Ben turned his attention from the pit he was digging to the cool waves and the sounds of our laughter as the swells of salty tang washed over us. It was all too tempting, and his resolve wavered. Out he came, not walking, but running into the froth, chasing after us, becoming a part of this grand adventure. It was awesome.

From the safety of my chair, half-buried in the wet sand, I observed him all afternoon. With every one of us who got up and went back into the water to cool off, Ben followed. I thought about that. There was no hesitation, no trepidation. He just ran right after us. He reminded me of me, of my younger self those many years ago, fast on the heels of my dad, chasing him into the surf. I hadn't a care because I knew my dad was with me, and he wasn't going to let anything bad happen to me. Now, I'm not saying we shouldn't respect the water. There are real dangers there, but what I saw that day was a little boy enjoying the moment without fear, trusting that those of us who loved him would have his back, would watch out after him, and would be right there to scoop him up if he faltered. It was a beautiful picture of trust.

You and I continue to live in uncertain times. There is much to fear if we allow ourselves to go there. Money, health, job security, the housing market, inflation, gas prices, wars, civil unrest, etc., etc., etc.; they all chip away at our faith, at our hope for tomorrow. Healthy fear is one thing; it firms our resolve. Irrational, runaway fear is quite another. It paralyzes us... leaves us feeling alone and adrift in those dangerous, murky waters.

Lucky for us there's someone out there in those waters with us, someone who has our back. He loves us. He's watching, ready and waiting to scoop us up when we falter... and we will. In the meantime, we can run, swim, laugh, and play without fear, without reservation, for He is there, and we can trust that He always will be.