Do You Know Where Your Kids Are Swimming?

By far, one of the highlights of our Colorado adventure trip was a morning at the natural hot springs.  I didn’t have to hang off a hundred-foot cliff by a tiny rope.  I didn’t have to walk 40 miles, up hill, both ways, in thin mountain air.  No one was falling into the icy river as we navigated rapids designed for Olympians.  Nothing but a natural hot tub…now that’s my idea of adventure.

The hot springs were divided into three pools.  One was a tepid, playing pool.  Kids were playing volleyball, chicken fighting (don’t tell the lifeguards), and swimming laps in that pool.  It was cool upon entering, but one could swiftly adapt….like most pools on a warm summer’s day.

One pool was about the temperature of a traditional hot tub.  But it was huge.  So it was kind of like being in a pretty hot bath with 113 of your closest friends.  It was more of a therapy pool – no playing, just relaxing.

Then there was the final pool – a crescent shaped pool with lots of warning signs about the heat.  And rightly so!  I’m not sure, but I think this pool might have actually been the first model for the Lake of Fire.

So of course, our teenagers were trying to man up and just jump in the crescent pool and stay in.  Few of them could.  It was just way too hot.

I noticed, though, that a few of them would get in and just muscle through the obvious burn.  They would sweat.  Their skin turned red (probably a rise in blood pressure).  Even though they knew it was hotter than a really hot place, they wanted to be in that pool.

I found a fascinating distinction between that pool and the others.  In the other pools, it was them temperature of the water that seemed to change.  Realistically, that didn’t happen.  Bodies just acclimate to the temperature of the pools.  But it seemed as though the cool water pool got warmer – and the traditional hot-tub water got cooler.  Kids were able to stay in both pools for prolonged periods without danger or threat as their bodies became accustomed to the water temperatures.

But in the SUPER HOT tub – the water temperature didn’t seem to change.  The water didn’t get cooler – people just got hotter….and hotter….and hotter.  And even though they were burning up – even undergoing physiological changes – they refused to get out of the pool.

It was a perfect microcosm of our student community.

We had kids who wouldn’t go anywhere near that pool.  It was too hot.  Period.  They didn’t need to try it out.  They already knew – just stay away.

We had kids who knew it was hot, but just wanted to give it a try.  And as soon as they jumped in, they jumped right back out.  Too hot.  They tried it once.  Maybe to say they had tried it.  Maybe out of curiosity.  But it didn’t take long in the pool to help them realize they just weren’t cut out for that kind of heat.

And then there were those few kids who just dived head-long into the cauldron.  Smiling as their blood pressure rose – the sweat beaded up on their foreheads – scoffing as friends tried to get them to come out of the pool.

Left in that pool long enough – according to the warning signs – people develop nausea, dizziness, even the possibility of stroke.  Being in that pool for prolonged periods of time is life threatening.

Incidentally – there was only a small, concrete wall separating the hot tub from the hotter-than-hell tub.  Wouldn’t take much for kids to jump from normal hot to life-threatening hot.

Do you know which pool your kids are swimming in?

Get In The Water

This summer our students spent a week in Colorado hiking, rappelling, climbing, and rafting.   It was an amazing adventure experience – especially for our ministry, located at sea level,      with warm gulf water and sand dunes – to see God through the glory and grandeur of the Rocky Mountain range.

The first day there, we suited up for our eight mile hike.  The air was crisp and clean.  The fragrant mountain breeze cooled us, seemingly at our every request, as we hiked.  The trees provided a glorious canopy of shade since most of us felt even closer to the sun than usual.  The landscape was nothing short of miraculous.

Trees towered.  Pine needles blanketed the ground.  Boulders beckoned the weary to rest.  This landscape was so very foreign to beach dwellers.

Equally alien were the rushing rivers and streams.

Living on the beach, we are no strangers to powerful water.  There is nothing more soothing, relaxing, calming than the sound of the ocean as it meets the beach, each time as though it were the first time.  But this water was different.

Watching it rush through its designated route, I couldn’t help but think about God.

This water was powerful.  Pulling large stones from their hiding places.  Making rough edges smooth.  Sometimes creating a difficult route for fish to get where they thought they should be.

This water was renewing.  As I watched its mighty flow, it was obvious that what was in the water where I sat just a moment ago was now far downstream.  It made me wonder how much change the bank had seen as it sat silently watching the river-friend work its renewal.  Microbes swept away in the rushing current.  Tress that used to be upstream relocated downstream.  Silt carpeting the river bottom that once belonged to the mountain.  The water changes everything.

And then I thought about my students – seeing this kind of water, some for the very first time.  There was no doubt they could see its power – its renewing properties…even from far away.  At times, we were so far up the mountain that the stream looked like a ribbon of white flowing through the valley.  But you could hear the power in its voice as it sang its song to nature.  When we got close enough to sit at the water’s edge, there was no denying its powerful force as it rushed to its final destination.

And it broke my heart.  As I listened to the majestic water’s roar, watched it change everything in its path, I realized a devastating truth.

The water doesn’t really work if you don’t get in.  I am praying that my students experience the refreshing, renewing, life-giving water from a personal, intimate vantage point.

It is one thing to recognize how beautiful and glorious the rushing water is from the safety of shore.  It’s a completely different matter to allow the current to sweep you away – smoothing your rough edges – changing the direction you thought you were going – renewing everything.

I am praying that our students experience THAT kind of water – the deafening roar of life anew – the panic of going in a completely different direction than planned – life-altering, life-giving, living water.  I want them to know THAT kind of water long after we return to the beach waters of the gulf.