Help in the Deep End

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John 14:26 – “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”

Childhood summers invited us into a world of diving headfirst into discovery and exploring uncharted waters. My favorite summertime adventures were spent at First Place, the community pool, where the sun blazed, and the water offered sweet relief.

 The pool was enormous, like an Olympic stadium, complete with waterslides that twisted and turned. I remember the thrill of attending countless swimming parties there, devouring cake and gulping down Capri-Suns.

As a kid, passing the swim test was a rite of passage. You could not swim alone until you proved your skills. Because of this, my dad was my constant companion.

He would patiently help me practice treading water while building my confidence. He set safe distances for me to swim to him from the pool wall.

His support gave me the boldness to face the deep end and attempt the swim test.  I knew the lifeguards were on deck, and Dad was there cheering me on.

At the whistle blast, I propelled myself forward.  I remember crawling through the water and finding a rhythm. Before I knew it, I touched the wall on the other side and knew I had passed.

Reflecting on that day, I realize God is a lot like my dad in this story. Just as Dad encouraged me, God does the same in our spiritual journeys.  The Holy Spirit, often called “The Helper,” is with us, encouraging us to take it to the next level.

So whether you are doggie paddling or confidently doing the breaststroke, allow the Holy Spirit to walk with you into the deep end of your faith. You might just find yourself jumping off the metaphorical high dive with confidence.

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When Trust Feels Scary

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Isaiah 41:10 – “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

There is something wonderfully chaotic about a hotel pool on a family vacation. The scent of chlorine and sunscreen mixes with the sound of kids laughing, adults chatting, and someone always yelling, “No running!”

That was our scene one afternoon at the beach. The sun was hot, the water was cool, and all of us—siblings, spouses, nephews, and grandparents—were soaking up that kind of joy you can’t plan. Just being together.

My nephews were at the shallow end, full of energy and daring. They would stand on the steps, and then swim out to whichever adult happened to be closest.

Except for the youngest.

He just started swimming lessons, and you could tell he was still learning what he could do. But when his dad got in the water, suddenly the water didn’t seem so scary.

That little boy launched himself off the step like it was the Olympics. His arms flailed, his legs kicked, and water splashed everywhere, but he knew exactly where he was going. More importantly, he trusted whose arms would always catch him if something went wrong.

Watching him, I realized how much I want to live like that.

There are moments when God asks us to step forward—into something new, unknown, maybe even intimidating. And our instinct is to hesitate, calculate the risks, stay safe on the steps. But if we really knew His character… if we really believed He would catch us… we would swim.

So what would it look like to trust God like a five-year-old? To believe, without hesitation, that He is there—and that He knows exactly how to catch you?

The water may feel deep, but trust me, He will not let you sink.

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Help Is Already on the Way

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Psalms 40:2 – “He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.”

The morning seemed like any other—peaceful, calm, and routine. But then, out of nowhere, chaos struck.

Two workers at a chocolate factory in Pennsylvania found themselves in a situation no one could have expected. They were waist-deep in a vat of thick, swirling chocolate. At first, it probably didn’t feel real—just a slip, a mistake, something that could be laughed off. But as they tried to move, the chocolate turned from an innocent, sweet substance into a trap, pulling them deeper with every attempt to free themselves.

Fear set in quickly. They tried to reach the edges, to find something solid to hold onto, but the chocolate was relentless, a sticky, suffocating mass that seemed to mock their every move. Desperation crept in. What if they didn’t make it out?

Help came, but it wasn’t easy. Firefighters couldn’t just grab them and pull them to safety. No, they had to cut through the vat, rip apart what was supposed to be a safe space, to get to them. It wasn’t neat. It wasn’t smooth. But it was effective.

In the end, the men were safe. No harm done. But the moment lingered—how quickly life can change from a mundane task to a life-threatening one. How often, when we feel stuck, we don’t know where to turn.

I can’t count how many times I’ve been in a similar place—overwhelmed, exhausted, desperate for a way out, but finding none. When life wraps around us like that, we panic. We try to fix things on our own, and the more we struggle, the worse it seems.

But here’s the truth: help is on the way, even when it feels like the situation is hopeless. Just like those workers had no way out on their own, but help came through a difficult, noisy rescue, God’s help is sure—even when we can’t see it yet. His promises are firm. His love is constant. When we reach out to Him, He answers.

So, if you’re stuck, if you’re feeling trapped, know this: you are not alone. Don’t give up, and don’t fight alone. Reach out to the Jesus. He promises to pull you from the muck and place your feet on solid ground.

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Right Place Right Faith

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Ephesians 2:10 – “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

When Shelby Anders boarded the flight, she expected nothing more than pretzels and a nap. She had clocked enough hours in the ICU that week to last her a while.

But just after takeoff, a commotion started a few rows ahead.

“Somebody help! He’s not responding!”

Shelby didn’t think. She stood.

“I’m a cardiac ICU nurse,” she said, already leaning over the man. He was slumped, face colorless.

Shelby started compressions. Her arms knew the rhythm, but her heart felt the weight. An ER doctor joined. Then another nurse. They moved like a single unit, strangers with the same mission.

The man’s wife—Melanie—was shaking. “Lord,” she whispered, “I need You.”

The minutes stretched long. Too long.

And then, it happened. A heartbeat. A breath. A sign of life.

When the plane touched down in New York, paramedics waited on the tarmac. The man was still alive. His wife held Shelby’s hand for a moment before following the stretcher. She didn’t say much—just “Thank you.” But the look in her eyes said the rest.

Someone called her brave. Someone else called her a hero, but reflecting on the experience later, she shared, “I don’t see myself as a hero. I just see it as being the hands and feet of Jesus. That’s why I do what I do.”

Maybe you’re not a nurse on a flight. Maybe your gift looks more like cooking, listening, or driving someone around. You were created with something this world needs. Do not underestimate those gifts God has given you. He may not call you to save a life at 30,000 feet—but He may use you for something only you were made to do.

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Wait and Watch God Work

Isaiah 40:31 – “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

There’s something about the ocean that resets your soul. It’s loud and wild and unpredictable—but it pulls you in anyway.

During a trip to Gulf Shores, Sarah and I found ourselves right in the middle of the chaos— sunscreen in our eyes, seagulls calling overhead, and a couple of nephews ready to conquer the waves.

We handed them boogie boards and waded out together. We tried to explain how it worked. “You’ve got to wait,” we told them. “Not every wave is the right one.”

Our nephews tried. Sort of. But mostly they jumped at whatever came first. Some waves faded too soon. Others knocked them over like bowling pins. But every so often, one would lift them and send them gliding all the way to shore.

I stood there watching, grinning like crazy, when it hit me: They’re not frustrated when they fall. They’re excited to try again.

That got to me.

Because I’ve been in waiting seasons too. Not on a beach—but in life. Hoping God would give direction, open a door, answer a prayer. I’ve tried to push ahead, force momentum, make things happen. But faith is not about forcing waves, is it? It is about showing up in the water—hopeful, ready, and willing to wait for God’s timing.

So, I am learning to wait differently. Not with crossed arms, but with open hands. Like a kid at the beach, bracing for the next ride.

And maybe you are, too. If you’re waiting on something—don’t give up. You are not forgotten. Stay ready. Keep watching. The tide is turning.

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Why I Stopped Running My Life

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Psalms 37:5 – “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act.”

That summer, I packed for camp hoping for a little break—one last deep breath before senior year swept in with all its questions. College applications, future plans, expectations from every direction—I was already feeling overwhelmed.

Towards the end of the week, I found myself standing among other campers in the sanctuary. The worship band played gentle music as the pastor delivered the closing of his sermon. Then he paused to let these words hang in the air.

“There is someone,” he said, “who needs to completely surrender their life plans to the Lord.”

I froze. My throat tightened. That was me.

Still, I didn’t rush to respond. I was scared. Surrender sounded beautiful in theory, but terrifying in practice. What if God’s plans were different than mine? What if surrender meant giving up something good?

Later, I sat across from my camp leader and let the tears come. I confessed I didn’t know what to do next. My mentor listened with compassion, guiding me through my doubts and helping me understand what true surrender meant.

It wasn’t about giving up my future; it was about trusting God with it, believing that He knew better than I ever could.

Looking back, it has not always been easy. Trusting God can be hard, especially when the future still feels so unknown. But over time, I have learned that surrender isn’t about giving up my dreams—it’s about trusting that He will guide me.

And for you? Maybe it is not your whole future you are wrestling with. Maybe it is just one decision. One burden. One thing you have gripped too tightly. What if your next right step is simply choosing to trust the One who has already seen the rest of your story—and loves you enough to walk with you every step of the way.

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Only God Could Do This

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Zechariah 4:6 – “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.”

There were no backup singers. No retakes. Just one quiet studio, one open mic, and one woman asking God to do what only He could.

Taya had no idea that day would change her life.

She was not trying to amaze anyone. In fact, she was a little unsure why she had been asked to sing this new song at all. But she showed up, steady and open, hoping the Holy Spirit would meet her in the moment.

They pressed record.

And she sang.

“You call me out upon the waters…”

Each line asked something deeper of her, and she felt it.

She continued, “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders”

At this point she was praying. Every note felt like walking further out on water. Her heart raced, but she kept going. Just obedience. One step. Then another.

When it ended, no one said much. There was no breakdown of how to fix it. No call for a second take. Just a quiet kind of peace that settled in the room.

So, they left it. One take. Done.

And somehow, that raw, trembling take spread farther than anyone could have dreamed. Not for a week. Not for a month. But for 61 non-consecutive weeks at the top of the charts.

But maybe that was the point.

The track wasn’t impressive. It was honest, Spirit-led, and that made all the difference.

People ask her now what it felt like to sing a song that became a global anthem. She smiles, sometimes a little stunned. Because she knows—that wasn’t me.

It was never about her voice. It was about what the Spirit was doing behind the scenes—moving hearts, calming storms, calling people out onto deep waters.

And maybe that’s where God meets us best—not when we’re confident, but when we’re completely out of our depth.

Because the world doesn’t need more perfect voices.

It needs more people willing to step in faith.

 

Oceans (where feet may fail)

VERSE 1:
You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep my faith will stand

CHORUS:
I will call upon Your Name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

VERSE 2:
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now

BRIDGE:
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Saviour

LAST CHORUS:
I will call upon Your Name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine

Words and Music by
Matt Crocker, Joel Houston & Salomon Ligthelm
© 2012 Hillsong Music Publishing (APRA).

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It Should Have Been Me

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1 Peter 2:24 – “He Himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

The pain was instant.

Lacey had only taken two steps into the bathroom when something sliced deep into the heel of her foot. She gasped, stumbled backward, and gripped the sink to keep from falling. It took a moment to even register what had happened. Then she saw it—the razor, fallen unnoticed from the edge of the tub, now streaked with her blood.

She sat down slowly, trying to breathe through the sharp sting, a wad of tissue pressed against the cut. Her mind raced—what if it had been Max? Or Dallas? They run barefoot through here every single day.

And then, just like that, a strange, quiet thought settled into her: “I’m thankful it was me.”

She meant it. Every word.

If someone had to be hurt, if someone had to feel this pain, let it be her. She could handle it. Not her boys. She would take it a thousand times over for them.

And as she sat there in the stillness, something even deeper hit her. This is what Jesus did.

He saw the suffering. The agony. The unthinkable pain ahead. And still, He stepped toward it—on purpose. Not because He had to. But because He loved us. Because He wanted to shield us from it.

In that quiet, blood-streaked moment, Lacey realized something she had known all her life but had never truly felt—Jesus didn’t just die for the world. He chose the pain for her.

She sat there, not just hurting—but grateful. And deeply moved.

That is what love does. It steps in. It says, “Let it be me.”

So, what if we lived like that was true? What if today was shaped by gratitude, not guilt? Because the pain we were spared was no accident. It was love. And it was on purpose.

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Free to Forgive

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Matthew 18:21-22 – Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

We weren’t trying to be extravagant. We just wanted to build a simple life together. So there we were, walking hand in hand through aisles of home goods, scanning dish towels and cutting boards, picturing a quiet little future—dinner at our own table, slow mornings, a couch we could call ours.

The joy was real. But I wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like to be given so much.

When the showers came, the gifts piled up faster than we could open them. We unwrapped things we had picked out together—yes—but each one felt different when it was placed in our hands by people who cared about us. I felt overwhelmed, honestly. Undeserving. These weren’t things we earned. They were acts of kindness. Unmerited gifts. And they taught me something before we ever used a single one.

Now, a few years in, marriage feels less like a gift registry and more like a full-time lesson in patience. Bills arrive. Communication gets messy. Some weekends feel more like negotiations than rest. And it turns out, even when you love someone deeply, forgiveness does not always come naturally.

But that’s what makes grace so powerful—it is still undeserved.

Two years into marriage, I still think about those boxes. We use the dishes. We burn the candle someone gave us. And we’ve also had the hard talks. The moments when we don’t see eye to eye. The ones where forgiveness is not easy or quick. It can feel easier to hold onto frustration than to lay it down.

But then I remember: someone once gave me something I didn’t deserve. And that someone else—Jesus— paid the ultimate price for me to receive it. Unmerited forgiveness.

That’s what forgiveness is. A gift. Not cheap, not convenient, and certainly not deserved. But freely given. And when I think about how deeply I’ve been forgiven, it softens something in me. It helps me step toward love again, even when pride wants to stay put.

You have the power to give someone what they didn’t earn—just like it was given to you. Grace does not ignore the hurt; it just refuses to be defined by it. What might happen if you gave that kind of love today?

70 X 7 by CHRIS AUGUST | Listen Now

[Verse 1]
I’ve been living in this house here
Since the day that I was born
These walls have seen me happy
But most of all they’ve seen me torn
They’ve heard the screaming matches
That made a family fall apart
They’ve had a front row seat
To the breaking of my heart

[Chorus 1]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in the air tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around

[Verse 2]
I remember running down the hallway
Playin’ hide and seek
I didn’t know that I was searching
For someone to notice me
I felt alone and undiscovered
And old enough to understand
Just when I’m supposed to be learning to love
You let me down again

[Chorus 1]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in the air tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around

[Bridge]
I lost count of the ways you let me down
But no matter how many times
You weren’t around
I’m alright now
God picked up my heart and helped me through
And shined a light on the one thing left to do
And that’s forgive you
I forgive you

[Interlude]
Seven times, seventy times
If that’s the cost, I’ll pay the price

[Chorus 2]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in this house tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around
Yeah, I’m gonna wrap it all around

[Outro]
I’ve been living in this house here
Since the day that I was born

Writers: Ed Cash, Chris August

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How We Used to Trust

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Matthew 18:3 – “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

The best days started with a camper door swinging open and bare feet hitting dirt. Jimmy Davis State Park was our whole world in the summer, and we ruled it like royalty—with bike helmets too loose and hearts too full to care.

We rode fast, never cautious. We skidded through puddles at the boat ramp, climbed every tree we could reach, and made friends without asking names. No schedules, no screens, no fences. Just the sweet, wild space of being young and alive.

By evening, we’d gather around picnic tables, smelling like sun and lake water, drawn in by the scent of burgers on the grill. The stars blinked on overhead like they were proud of us.

Those days left a mark. Not just in the photo albums, but deep in my memory—because we weren’t just having fun. We were free. Fully alive, fully ourselves, and deeply certain that we were safe and cared for.

And I wonder… why did we stop living like that?

The world is louder now. More guarded. And yet I still catch myself longing for something I can’t quite name. Until I remember: that sense of freedom was never about the campground—it was about trust.

That’s what children do best. They trust. Fully. Freely. Without trying to control what’s next.

Jesus once said the kingdom belongs to people like that. People who still dare to believe before they see.

So maybe this isn’t just nostalgia. Maybe it’s a reminder. That childlike trust is not something we grow out of—it’s something we’re called back to.

And maybe it’s not too late to live like that again.

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