This past week, Brian and I joined Brian’s brother and sister-in-law at their home away from home in Bonaire. The three of them are avid scuba divers. I am not.

So while they were out doing the scuba thing, I stayed back at the apartment—overlooking the ocean—preparing my Lent and Easter messages. The apartment had a dock with steps leading straight into the sea, making a swim in the ocean both easy and inviting. The water was so clear and impossibly blue that I finally decided to take a break. While the others were away, I would go snorkelling.

Fins on. Mask on. Snorkel in. And off I went.

While snorkelling, I found myself captivated by the fish—not because they were flashy or rare, but because of how they moved.

They didn’t fight the waves.
They didn’t panic when the current shifted.
They simply relaxed… and went with it.

As the water swayed back and forth, the fish moved in rhythm with it—effortless, unhurried, trusting. Watching them felt like a quiet lesson in how much energy we waste resisting what we cannot control.

It made me wonder: how often do we exhaust ourselves fighting the current of life?

We push against seasons we didn’t choose. We tense up when plans change. We struggle to hold everything together, convinced that peace comes from control. But those fish reminded me that survival—and even joy—sometimes comes from surrender, not striving.

Scripture echoes this wisdom again and again:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
— Psalm 46:10

Stillness isn’t passivity. It’s trust.
It’s choosing to believe that God is present in the waves, not just the calm.

Jesus offers a similar invitation:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28

Rest doesn’t mean the currents disappear. It means we stop fighting them alone.

There are seasons when God calls us to act boldly—and seasons when faith looks like floating, breathing, and letting the Spirit carry us where we need to go. Like the fish, we are not meant to live clenched and rigid. We are created to move with grace, guided by a current far wiser than our own effort.

So maybe the question isn’t, How do I stop the waves?
Maybe it’s, Can I trust God enough to move with them?

Today, if life feels choppy, take heart. Loosen your grip. Breathe deeply. Let yourself be held.

God is in the water with you—and the current, somehow, knows the way. 🌊🐟