Bobbing for Brackets

When I was in the army I worked for a bridging unit, building bridges and rafts to get tanks and stuff from one side of a river to another.

It sounds cool until you realize the enemy can see a long way on the water and can shoot you. So you only get to build bridges in the middle of the night when everyone else is sleeping.

On one such nighttime excursion, someone dropped a bracket we used to connect the boat with our giant metal raft. The bracket sank quickly to the bottom. As the lowest ranking person close by I quickly “volunteered” to go into the water after it.

Army regulations stated that if I was going to get into the water, I had to do it in a lifejacket. The U.S. government had invested too much money in me and they were not going to let their investment drowned.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to dive under the water in a lifejacket but it’s kind of like trying to jump after nailing your shoes to the floor.

I tried desperately to get my head underwater, looking like an inept bobbing duck. It soon became clear to everyone that I needed to unhook myself from my safety vest if I was going to get anything done.

Only after that was I able to plunge into the black water, fumble around the slimy bottom and find the bracket.

I think if we truly want to experience life and all God has for us we need to take off our lifejackets. Yes there is comfort and safety in living a life without risk, but it’s hard to get stuff done.

We wear lifejackets at church, work, in our relationships with each other and with God because we don’t want to get hurt.

As a result, we never get the adventure of diving fully into each other’s lives or probing around in the depths of God’s wonder. We miss experiencing the joy of finding all that he has for us.

I’ll be honest, it’s risky. Sometimes you just come away cold and wet, smelling like pond scum and maybe even bitten by something. Engaging fully and loving deeply leaves us vulnerable. I also know if you don’t take a risk, on whatever God is asking, you’ll never get anything done. You’ll bob around in safety, but never truly live.