I went to my daughter’s swim meet this weekend. It was held at my old high school, in the pool in which we swam in P.E. The whole building has changed around it – new wings added, new hallways and entrances and classrooms, but the pool is just the same. Sitting there looking around this place I didn’t even know I remembered, memories flooded in. The fear of having to jump off the diving board, feet first, going all the way to the bottom of the pool before I was allowed to resurface. The humiliation of wearing suits color-coded by size, stretched out in front by girls more “developed” than I, tied closed in back with a shoestring. P.E. teachers giving first aid demonstrations over there. My asthma making it hard to catch my breath; always swimming in the lane by the wall so I could stop if I had to.
With distance, sometimes we forget. But when we go back to a place from our past, emotions and feelings and events and details float up from the depths of our memory, fresh and strong and vivid. I was surprised at what I remembered after so long (gasp! It’s been 25 years!). Maybe we need to go back spiritually sometimes, too. Back to the place where we first found God (or where He found us). Back to the spot where we were when it happened. Back to the way we used to pray or worship. We need to remember how He got our attention. Why we fell in love with Him. What He said to us, and what we were doing when he said it. We need to let His love wash over us in waves. We need to flood our senses with the feeling of His presence. We need to dive right in, into the deep, deep waters of faith, without any fear. Without hesitation. Just jump right in.