Where is the line?

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Venice Beach was charged with electricity. People were everywhere; excited, nervous, filled with anticipation. It was six a.m. on this autumn morning. Stress levels, of the healthy type, rising with the sun. It was chilly, yes, but only the weather felt that way. People were warm, welcoming, and wired up. It was foggy, yes, but only the air looked that way. People were smiling, with a clear sense of purpose and direction. At least that was what I thought was true for the rest of them. As for me, the day turned out to be a different story.

The Set Up
I had trained several months prior to this event. It was the first time I was participating in an Olympic-distance triathlon.^[1] I was filled with doubts: Would I drown? Would I survive? Would I be eaten by a shark? Would I spend more time transitioning than racing? Would I cycle past exhaustion? Would I have legs to run to the finish line? Did I train enough? Probably like the rest of us out there, I was overwhelmed by the voices inside my head, and I am not schizophrenic. These were real voices and I was soon to find out some answers.

We formed at the starting line and we jumped into that chilling ocean water at the first sound of the air horn. Triathletes rushed to the water with frenzy. Everyone was trying to get ahead. All of the sudden, I felt myself the easy target of elbowing, kicking, pushing, pulling, and crushing. Lots of people were fighting to occupy the very same spot in the water I was in. When I finally managed to get to the first buoy I paused to see where I was supposed to go and realized: “Where is the line? There is no line at the bottom of the ocean. There is no line on its surface either.” I did all my swimming training in the pool and nothing had prepared me for this. At that point I felt lost. In fact, I was lost.

The Set Down
The big waves lifted me high and sank me low. The undercurrents pulled me in many unintended directions. The fog and my goggles blurred my vision and hid the markers. The many swimmers that passed me by distracted me from my objective. I followed some of them who actually took me in the opposite direction. Algae filled me with terror at the first touch in the turbid sea. There were lifeguards on surf boards. I thought to myself, “They are here to help, if I follow them, I’ll get through this.” So I did, zigzagging my way through the waters, adding more distance than necessary, of course. After one long hour in the ocean, I was tired, in pain, and far from finished.

The Set In
I repeated to myself “I am not a quitter… I am not a quitter.” This was the phrase that got me through. I took courage. I forced myself, almost breathless, exhausted, hungry, to one last surge of power. When I turned the last buoy, I paused again to have a visual of the beach. I joined hundreds of swimmers fighting the rip-currents to exit the waters. The visual effect was like sardines on dry land, except that we were the ones outside our elements. When I finally reached the beach I could barely walk, dizzy and disoriented. I realized: “My training was not enough.” I did not learn proper technique for the ocean. I did not practice active recovery. And above all else, I did not know how to follow an imaginary straight line.

In our race of faith, we will face many distractions: 

• People trying to take advantage of us 
• Others with good or bad intentions misguiding us 
• Self-called saviors that could deviate us from our path 
• Blurriness, or lack of vision 
• Poor technique or unpreparedness 
• Big waves of trouble and difficulties 
• Exhaustion, fear, or pain 

In the midst of these, how do we find guidance in the high waters? How can we sharpen our vision? If we focus on these, and many other possible distractions, we risk our wellbeing. Our spiritual, relational, mental, and even our physical health is in jeopardy. We are closer to the dangers of quitting. I am sure King David was not a triathlete, but I can certainly relate to his feelings when he wrote (Psalm 69:1-2 NIV):

Save me, O God,

for the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold.

I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me.

Like David, we need to fix our eyes on God and call upon Him. He is the One mighty to save; the One gracious to guide; the One who will see us through until we come on top. As for guidance for your ocean swim, I learned the hard way that you need to lift up your eyes to a landmark and follow it; but remember that God is beyond the hills (Psalm 121:1-2a CEB):

I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come?

My help comes from the LORD.

Next time you are in a situation for which you cannot find any guidance or you feel helpless, call upon God. I assure you: you will be surprised.

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NOTES:
^[1] Olympic Triathlon consists of a 1.5 Km (0.93 Miles) swim, a 40 Km (24.85 Miles) bicycle ride, and a 10 Km (6.21 Miles) run. These are the official distances used in the Olympics, thus its name.