Swimming with sharks

What does faith look like?

It’s an unconventional question, one capable of interrupting our logical thinking and challenging us to look at, and think about things, in unusual ways. Sometimes we take our faith for granted, placing it on a shelf where it’s safe, but such questions can bring it down from the shelf and make us explore it anew.

When I saw this picture of my good friend Wayne Young taking his first official dive at our local science center, I couldn’t help by say, “THAT’S what faith looks like!” With arms raised in joy and complete abandon, he stands, looking as if singing “Alleluia,” as the sharks swim past. (You can’t hear the alleluia, but they’re in the bubbles scurrying to the surface.)

I confess, too often my faith does not cause me to strike such a pose. With what feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders, it’s hard to lift my arms. Underwater, it’s hard to trust there’s enough air. And then, there’re the sharks, the people places and situations that swim around me in shadowy light with vacant, grey eyes. Fears, like sharks, have fins so we can spot them from afar and easily distinguish them from the other fish. In such waters, it’s easy to look only at the sharks, take short, shallow breadths, and not dive as we were intended.

God wants so much more for our lives. I’m not sure how, exactly, but in the mystery of the empty tomb we were given the gift of new life. It’s not a life of shallow breath or constricted hearts. No, it’s an abundant life, one where we are invited us to lift our arms, shout to the sharks, and celebrate the good news that God’s got our back, once and forever.

Alleluia!