Do you know how to turn this thing around?

 

They waited all week for that kayak. The one we had promised to rent while on vacation. The one that, yes, they would be allowed to take out by themselves. Their dad said that, not me. I get seasick just looking at the waves for too long; so this was his gig. Finally, the boat was delivered and carried to the beach. The little one’s life vest was buckled tight and everyone told where to hold on.

“And if anyone falls out, you help get them back in,” my husband instructed the older one who is bigger and stronger than me now. He nodded and we ducked as they waved the oars around in excitement. “Let us go! Push us out! We’ll be fine!” They insisted. We pushed, still trying to holler instructions and they paddled hard, whacking the sand in the shallow water. And then, off they went into the glistening emerald green waters.

“They’re fine.” My husband patted my arm reassuringly. Yeah, they’re fine. They’re fine. The little boat became smaller and smaller as they bounced on the waves and made their way out to where the green faded to turquoise.

“Wait! Wait!” I yelled, startling the silence of our boy – less beach, “Wait- we forgot to tell them how to turn around!” I had visions of them disappearing off the edge of the crystal clear horizon and never returning.

“They’ll figure it out. They’re smart boys.” My husband spoke calmly. I wasn’t so sure. If only they had waited, we could have showed them how to turn around. If only they had waited.

They bounced and bobbed, continuing to head toward the place where I was certain they would fall off the flatness of the never-ending water. And then, they stopped paddling. I couldn’t hear them, but there was arguing. So yeah, Dad swam out to where they were floundering and settled it all by explaining how to turn around. Priceless information. Slowly, their vessel began to turn back toward the beach and all was well.

Waiting for instructions is about the hardest thing in the world, isn’t it? I am a horrible waiter, so my boys come by their eagerness to get going naturally. A new thing, a big project, a different season, a looming challenge comes my way and I worry. I try to prepare. I wring my hands. I try to be patient. But ultimately, I push off from the shore, my oars whacking the sand, anxious to get going.

What does it matter if I know how to get back? I just want to get started. Waiting for more instructions takes too long.

Anyone with me on this? Anyone else hate to wait? Ever jumped into a new thing and realized you didn’t know how to turn around? Ever been out too far, in too deep and had no idea how to navigate back to the shore? Anyone else ever needed their Father to wade out to where they were drifting and show them how to turn around?

Yeah, me too.

And often, the reason I am drifting and uncertain is that I didn’t wait for the rest of the instructions. I am reminded of the disciples and the job Jesus gives them before he ascends into heaven. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always until the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19).

Quite a challenge, huh? And they thought they knew what Jesus meant. They thought he had a plan to make their world right again. Yes, I do, he tells them, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem,  and in Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). You, you are my plan, he tells this little band of eleven men and then immediately he is taken off into heaven.

And there they stand on the mountain, “looking intently up into the sky” (Acts 1:10). We are the plan, they must’ve thought, how is this going to work? I know that feeling. And I bet you do, too.

A new task lays out in front of us. A season is about to begin. A challenge has been presented and we want to jump in. There’s work to be done. But how in the world will we do it? We stand and stare at the sky. We paddle hard with our oars and try to take off just to get going. What does it matter if we don’t know how to turn around? We’ve got this, right?

Maybe. But, Jesus gave the disciples some other instructions on the mountain that day, too.

“Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you heard me speak about. For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” (Acts 1:4-5 emphasis, mine).

“But wait”. Do not leave. It is a big job; so don’t start until I show you how to turn around. Wait. Wait for me.

You see, he knew those disciples. He knew eagerness and confusion would spin them around. And he knows us too. He knows the mountains on which we stand and the challenges that we face. He knows.

“But wait…” You’re gonna have to know how to get back to me, Jesus whispers. You’re going to think you’ve got this. You’re going to think you can handle it. And then suddenly, you’re going to realize you don’t know how to turn around.

And those disciples, unlike my over- anxious boys and unlike me, listened. They waited. They went back to Jerusalem and they waited. And in their patient obedience, they got to see an unleashing of God’s power unlike anything ever recorded. The rushing wind of the Holy Spirit.

The same Holy Spirit that God promises us. It is the way he gets to us. The way he shows us how to turn around — if we will just wait and listen.

God will wade out and blow into the deep waters of our lives and change our courses. He will point us back toward him. But we have to wait.

“… they who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles. They shall run and not grow weary; they shall walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

So, wherever you find yourself today; on the shore of a new challenge or an old challenge or the familiar shore of a regular day, hold onto your oars for a few extra minutes. Don’t push off quite yet. Wait, just a little. Be still and know that Jesus stands on that shore with you. Let him show you how to turn around.

And remember this; the only way you’ll be able to keep going is by knowing how to get back to him.