Soaked

This morning I am thinking about one of the rides at a local theme park.  It’s called the Congo River Rapids, and it involves being carried with the current in a boat that’s shaped like a large, round tube.  At different places along the watery route, riders are splashed or doused with water as they spin and turn, encounter unexpected dips, crash into cave walls, or pass under free-flowing waterfalls.  There is even one point where mischievous spectators can take aim and blast unsuspecting riders with strategically concealed water pistols from a bridge above.  Ironically, right at the entrance of this ride there is a shop that sells rain ponchos for riders who don’t want to get wet.  Admittedly, I’ve bought those ponchos a few times.  At the end of the ride, what set me apart from my poncho-less companions was that I would still be mostly dry, neat, and tidy.  What set my poncho-less companions apart from me was that they looked a mess, with dripping hair and clinging clothes that often revealed whatever was underneath.  But they experienced the real purpose of the ride, whereas all I had done was go along for the ride.  Eventually I realized the folly of my poncho purchasing, so I gave it up.  And I have to say, that’s when Congo River Rapids became one of my favorites…one that I usually want to ride again.  Sometimes as I am preparing to go forth to face a new day, it feels a bit like I’m about to board another kind of river rapids.  I know that, throughout the course of the day, there may be unforeseen events that cause me to spin and turn.  I may encounter unexpected dips from plans that don’t work out as expected.  And I might sometimes I crash into walls of misunderstanding or opposition.  So, sometimes I have paid a price to cloak myself in a poncho of pride, woven tightly with materials of fear, doubt, anger, and selfishness.  But I’ve come to understand something about the purpose of my path each day.  With each unpredictable or unsettling spin, turn, dip and crash I am being splashed with the water of faith, confidence, and persistence.  Though pistols of gossip and criticism may be fired at me from hidden places, I am actually being saturated with the grace to truly love, trust, and forgive.  And, all along the way, I am periodically passing under refreshing waterfalls of grace and favor.  When I consider these things, I am made mindful of the folly of my pride and I am anxious to cast it aside.  Because at the end of the day, I want more than just knowing I’ve gone through the motions.  I want to know that I have felt, that I have loved, that I have lived.  I may look a mess, and I may be exposed for who I truly am underneath.  But, still, I want to be absolutely soaked with hope for each new opportunity and every new day to come.