Enjoying the Whitewater

A friend Photoshopped this picture to commemorate an event in my personal history.

Four years ago right now, I had cancer – a melanoma, right in the middle of my back. Surgery was scheduled for the next day (June 19^th), so I had not found out yet whether or not the surgeon would be able to “get it all.” If he did not, my prognosis would probably not be good.

A week or so earlier – after I already knew from the biopsy that I had cancer – Patsy, Matthew and I had gone for a vacation in the North Carolina mountains. During that time, Matt and I took a day to go whitewater rafting. It was one of those “perfect” days, as we paid good money to ride through rough water.

Near the end of our ride, our raft took a drop-off wrong and dumped over, and I was pinned to the river bottom by a couple of other bodies on top of me. I remember it with wonderful clarity – almost as though it happened in slow motion. And I remember how amazingly relaxed I was as I simply lay there without struggling while the other guys scrambled to get to the surface.

I was wearing the helmet and life jacket I had been issued, and I had total confidence that as soon as the others moved, I would pop to the surface. I knew there was a big air bubble under the overturned raft. No fear – complete assurance that I was safe – so relaxed that I actually had to tell myself that it was time to go up for air. I stuck my head out of the water about the time our guide was coming under the raft to look for me. Then, as we had been instructed earlier, I just let the current carry me down to where the guides had a safety line in the water – I grabbed it, they pulled me to shore, and that was that.

It really was a marvelous experience – that amazing feeling of perfect peace, even though I was intellectually aware of the potential for danger. That few moments underwater left me with a “high” I can scarcely describe.

On the June 19^th, as they wheeled me down the hallway to surgery, I felt that same kind of totally peaceful high – the kind that comes from knowing I am safe, no matter what happens. The doctor might get the cancer, or he might not – it didn’t matter, because I new that I belonged to God through my covenant in the Blood of Jesus Christ. Even as I had trusted that life jacket to hold me up, I knew absolutely that come what might, the Lord would take care of me and everything and everyone related to me.

That year, 2006, June 18^th was a Sunday, and I preached on “It’s the Whitewater That Makes the Trip Interesting.”

I have had my share of “whitewater” in life, just like everyone else. But as I trusted that life jacket while I was on the bottom of the river, so now, even as the Scripture says, “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him….” [2 Tim. 1:12]

I wouldn’t take anything for that experience on the river – and I wouldn’t want to have missed the experience of God’s absolute faithfulness while I was dealing with the cancer.

Now, I am allowed to live every day with the continuing assurance of that faithfulness.

Oh yes – the surgeon apparently did “get it all.”