After I completed my open water dive test a few weeks ago, i found that it was a very unique feeling. There are like 7 different emotions that run through you at the same time: first the relief of not having to worry about the test, then the sense of accomplishment, the sense of freedom in knowing that you can dive whenever you want, the excitement of thinking about the discoveries you will find, the sense of wonder in seeing the world in a new perspective, the confusion in dealing with all the emotions, and finally the desire for more. I think in all of these things, the one feeling that has stuck with me is the sense of wonder. I still think of my experience, and remember the world feeling like it was new.
See when i went diving for my open water exam, i went to one of the murkiest, cloudiest lakes they have in wisconsin. Oh, and the sun was hidden behind the clouds, so it was dark as well. The visibility was 6-10 feet, which means that you couldn't see see the top or the bottom of the lake when you were in the middle. (Although someone told me that it's good to train in water like that, because i'll be able to enjoy clear water all the more.)
So here is the scoop: I stepped into the lake, and slowly descended for my first time. Not knowing what to expect, my heart raced with fearful excitement, as i started to pick up speed going deeper. I first realized that my breathing stopped as soon as my ears began to hurt from the extra pressure, so took a moment to breathe while i clear them. It was good for me to stop, because i needed a chance to slow down and grasp what i was experiencing. Here i was, twenty feet below the surface, and looking at a dingy brown...nothing. It was like i lived on the set of an old western movie. You know those old western movies that are suppose to be black and white but are actually a copper color? Just like that, i was staring at a vast field of flat brown dirt. That's when it hit me, unlike the westerners being able to see miles in all directions, i could only see 5 feet! Anything could be looming just past my field of view, and i would have no idea. that's when my mind started racing...
"what happens if you run out of air," what happens if you get tangled up in the seaweed," "what happens if you are attacked by a fish," "what happens if you get lost," etc etc. I think the scariest thing about any unknown experience is having to meet the voice in your head. That voice will say all sorts of things to convince you to tuck back into your shell. Self preservation is the game, and that voice has been able to practice for 24 consecutive years. You can try to ignore the voice, putting your fingers into your ears and singing "la la la la la la," and at first you can. It's easy to ignore a pestering little mouse scratching on your skull, but that mouse doesn't continue to scratch for long. Eventually it turns into a rat and will start to gnaw. you can ignore the rat for a while too, (i mean, who cares if "you get attacked by a minnow," but eventually that minnow turns into a muskie...), and that rat is growing into a rabid dog barking inside your head. You can't ignore a dog barking, just like you can't ignore the panic of being alone in the lake with no visable point of reference. I've found that you can ignore the mouse, and save your manliness (i mean, who wants to admit they are worried about a little ol' mouse), but you will eventually have to face that rabid dog. For me, it's best to deal with the concern while it's still small so i don't have to conjure up some "warrior-based" courage to deal with a monsterous fear.
You know, that brings up a question: are couragous people more couragous than the average person, or do they just face the problem while it's small and also deal with the building concerns incrimentally? For example, do they say "ok, i have this mouse that i need to deal with...bam, that wasn't so hard. Oh, now i have to deal with a bigger mouse. Well i dealt with a small one, so this one will just require a tiny bit more courage...bam done. Ok, now i have to deal with an even bigger mouse, which has foam by the corner of it's lips. It's just a tiny bit more courage than the last one...ok done." I mean, if you stand on the carcass of the previous enemy, you can give yourself the boost to stare the new enemy in the eye. That's just what i think.
Anyways, so here i was in the middle of this dark lake, and i'm trying to follow the instructors yellow fins. That's all i could see...those yellow fins. The weird thing was that as long as i saw those fins i was completely relaxed. The moment i lost sight of them, though, my heart rate shot up and that little mouse of doubt started barking and growling. To let you in on a little secret, i actually did get lost at one moment, and had to surface. I don't know if that disqualifies me, but it did make me feel like a failure. i let that voice win, that irrational, self-serving, miniscule voice win. It sucks, and it made me feel like i was weak. I was not the man i thought i was. I wasn't john wayne standing in the brown field facing 150 indians with bows. I was one of the ladies that Mr. Wayne sent into the house for the betterment of my "own safety."
Oh those fins, those magic fins that gave me the courage of a lion. At that moment, i would have followed those fins into the abyss, and explored the dangers of the deep. I would have stared the loch ness monster in the eye, and wrestled a giant squid. Nothing could stop me, except losing sight of the fins. That brings me back to my opening paragraph. The one emotion that i remember with the greatest accuracy and detail was my sense of wonder in seeing the world in a new light. You could guess that i saw the world in a new light because i faced a fear, or because i tried something new, but you would be wrong. Well, not entirely, i mean both of those statements are correct, but they are not the reason i see the world with a new perspective. The reason i see the world with a new perspective is because i was able to make a connection between those fins, and an analogy that has be repeated to me for the past 15-20 years; the analogy of a lamp illuminating a path. This analogy that i speak of can be found in psalms chapter 119, verse 105: "your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path."
See, when i was growing up, i had people tell me the story of Peter walking on water, and how he was fearless and brave until he took his focus off of Jesus. I also remember singing "thy word is a lamp unto my feet" in church because it was the "right" thing to do. I remember saying words like "Jesus will illuminate my path," but having no idea what that meant. I mean, I figured that I didn't know what it meant because i didn't need to know. I lived my life by deciding what i want to be doing 5 years into the future, and working really hard to gain it. I even worked to gain it when i knew i didn't want it anymore; but hey, i made a commitment to get it. But the thing i've learned is that it's nearly impossible to plan 5 years into the future, and have your plans fall into place. I mean, 5 years ago i was taking chemical engineering classes, and planning on making 60-70k a year. Now i'm working at an insurance company making a quarter of that. 5 years ago i planned on living in FL or AZ, now i live in Point. 5 years ago i planned on leading a company to greatness, now i'm letting christ show me His greatness.
How do the words "thy word is a lamp unto my feet" relate to scuba fins? Well in both cases, i was given a limited view, but that limited view sustained me. More than that, it empowered me with courage. The "Jesus lamp" doesn't mean that i'm going to know the future (or i obviously would wouldn't have bragged to my High school buddies about how great i was) it just means that i will be able to face the next step with courage and confidence. The lamp that God sets in front of my path is what it's like to follow those yellow fins, because I will have the courage to face the abyss as long as i keep my focus on the leader.
