Dear Friends:

It is Father’s Day and I am feeling, well . . . fatherly. My son Andrew, all smiling, six feet of him came in last night and hugged me and said “I am glad that you’re my dad.”

I replied, “I’m glad that you’re my son. I’m proud of you and the man that you’ve become.”

Andrew graduated from college a year ago. He has a good job and spends his spare time as a youth and worship leader. He exudes a cheerful confidence that comes from a deepening relationship with Christ.

I was reminded last night of another Sunday in June, 19 years ago.

Our family attended a pool party for a friend graduating from high school. Andrew, then four years old, splashed in the shallow end of the pool in noisy play with the other kids.

Patricia and I kept an eye on him. We’d taken him to swimming lessons, but you can’t be too careful.

My friend Randy and I were talking. Somehow as we stood pool-side, I turned my back to the water. Suddenly, Randy broke off in mid-sentence and rushed past me to the pool. He reached in to the deep end and to my surprise pulled out a sputtering Andrew.

Andrew had slowly slipped down the pool-edge until he was in the deep end. Then he let go and sank like a stone. Randy, a watchful former lifeguard, saw him go down.

Patricia asked Andrew, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Mommy. I went down in the water and I couldn’t do anything so I just held up my hand and waited for somebody to come for me. And he did.”

I’ve had many experiences with my son that have brought the gospel to life for me.  The author of Hebrews defined faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1).  Andrew, in over his head in deep water, had the assurance of a salvation that he could not see, but that he confidently believed would arrive for him.

This is how saving faith works: a realization of our dire predicament; a recognition that we cannot help ourselves; a belief that there is One who can and will save us; and a trusting hand outstretched to receive the gift of salvation.

Salvation is that simple, but we are human and the harrowing circumstances of life in a broken world frighten us. Andrew suffered a fear of water for some time after that incident even though he had more swimming lessons.

One hot summer day, I took him to the pool. He stepped into the shallow end wearing a life jacket. He refused to venture out to play with me.

“Come on, ” I said, “you can do it.”

“No.”

“Oh sure you can. You’re a good swimmer.

“I don’t want to.”

“Daddy won’t let anything happen to you and it will be fun.”

“But I don’t want to drown. That’s the thing!”

That is the “thing” indeed! On one hand Andrew believed that his loving daddy wouldn’t let him sink. On the other hand the water was real and could swallow him up.

This is how a desperate father begged Jesus to heal his son, crying out, “I believe, help my unbelief.” (Mk. 9:24).

Jesus heard the cry of the conflicted man, broke off making his theological point, and healed the man’s son on the spot.

When you are actually in the water, or the mess, or the struggle or whatever, all the beautiful pictures with Bible verse captions and greeting card platitudes in the world won’t pull you out. This is why Patricia says, “No one should be given a book on how to endure suffering when they are truly suffering.”

To be told that the horrible thing that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins, or tears your heart in pieces, or just plain hurts, is really good for you, most often drags you into deeper despair. Mind over matter doesn’t work when your broken heart refuses to follow the lead of your head.

We wonder, “Why aren’t we spared this or that?” “If God really loved me wouldn’t this pain have stopped a long time ago?” “If Christ really cared, would this be happening?” Or we tell ourselves, “I can take care of myself. I’ll do my part and then God can do his.”

It is love that reaches in and pulls us back. That’s how Andrew learned to dive and swim with abandon. He came to this grace in pool-play with his friends. The greater joy of relationship in the freedom of the water gradually removed his fears and self-consciousness.

Trusting God enough to let go and take his hand takes time. The power of sin and our self-possession are deeply rooted and very deceptive in their hold on us.

We inch along the pool edge thinking we can go farther and farther into the deep water and still get back. That is why there are such things as death-bed confessions. It takes that long for some of us to realize we are in over our heads and there is nothing to be done but hold up our hand to Christ to pull us out. Some, unfortunately, never get to that point or pass it by without even a wave.

The point where we recognize our futility is where eternity generally begins for us. Our limitations are obvious, our mortality is inevitable. Is there a realistic hope for freedom and eternity and in whom is that hope to be found?  The answer goes to the core issue of faith–Do we trust Christ and only Christ?

The Christian philosopher Soren Kierkegaard illustrated the answer with a story that has subsequently been adapted by many speakers and writers. A man is trapped on the edge of a cliff with a raging fire burning toward him. It will only be a minute or two before the fire consumes him when he hears a voice from down below the cliff, amidst the darkness, calling, “Jump!”

The man answers, “But, I can’t see you! There’s only darkness down there!”

The voice from the deep shouts back, “Jump anyway, I can see you!”

Tony Campolo, commenting, on this story writes:

In the end, what is required in committing oneself to Christ is so overwhelming that only those who are desperate are ready to take this leap of faith and give themselves over to the voice that calls in the night” (Let Me Tell You a Story [Waco, TX: Word Pub., 2001] p 81).

Oh Child of grace, wherever you are and whatever you are experiencing right now, your heavenly Father this very moment has your name penned in the palm of his hand and an exact count of every hair on your head. His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, is coming for you just as he planned with the Father with you in mind long before you were born. You can hold up your hand for help in the blessed assurance that Jesus will grasp it.

The Apostle John wrote that this help is one hundred percent reliable. “We have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the savior of the world. God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and rely upon the love that God has for us” (John 4:14-16).

The water may be deep, but keep your hand up. Jesus Christ who loves you is coming to pull you out.

“O taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are those who take refuge in him” Ps. 34:8)

Under the mercy of Christ,

Kent

 

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Please note that the content and viewpoints of Mr. Hansen are his own and are not necessarily those of the C.S. Lewis Foundation. We have not edited his writing in any substantial way and have permission from him to post his content.

 

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Kent Hansen is a Christian attorney, author and speaker. He practices corporate law and is the managing attorney of the firm of Clayson, Mann, Yaeger & Hansen in Corona, California. Kent also serves as the general counsel of Loma Linda University and Medical Center in Loma Linda, California.

Finding God’s grace revealed in the ordinary experiences of life, spiritual renewal in Christ and prayer are Kent’s passions. He has written two books, Grace at 30,000 Feet and Other Unexpected Places published by Review & Herald in 2002 and Cleansing Fire, Healing Streams: Experiencing God’s Love Through Prayer, published by Pacific Press in spring 2007. Many of his stories and essays about God’s encompassing love have been published in magazines and journals. Kent is often found on the hiking trails of the southern California mountains, following major league baseball, playing the piano or writing his weekly email devotional, “A Word of Grace for Your Monday” that is read by men and women from Alaska to Zimbabwe.

Kent and his beloved Patricia are enjoying their 31st year of marriage. They are the proud parents of Andrew, a college student.