I Was afraid of the eighth graders

by Joel Bates

​The adolescent horde roared with laughter like an ancient Roman mob filling the colosseum and cheering barbarically at the sight of another gladiator haplessly cast down by its adversary.  They taunted louder than even the roiling river, cheered with gleeful delight when any brave soul dared to brace the enemy and be sent packing.  The sunny, temperate day would have been pleasant if not for the task at hand and the menacing mob casting judgement on a warrior’s even slightest error.  The brave but fallen emerged from under foaming waters, having been harassed enough by the pounding waves, only to endure cruel jeers and unsympathetic hecklings from those who stood but a mere stone’s throw away.  It wouldn't have been so bad except that I was up next to run the menacing rapid.  

Most passersby only noticed a group of about 30 eighth graders standing on the wooden platform overlooking the final rapid on the otherwise tame Nantahala River in North Carolina.  All day they had been learning to canoe and getting pretty good at it.  Now they faced the finale, where they watched all their friends navigate the rapid with their newfound skill.  Some made it down unscathed to admiring applause while others succumbed to the instability of the churning, bucking waters which tipped them for a wet exit and the good-natured taunts of their peers.  But for me, the pressure mounted.
​
I was with the Discovery Ministries staff, and we were brushing up on our whitewater canoeing skills.  For some reason, this crowd of pubescent critics, coupled with the natural jitters of running a big rapid, just started to get under my skin.  I sat in an eddy with heart pounding and boat bobbing, and I wondered, “Why am I afraid?” 

---

I knew some obvious answers.  I was about to navigate a tricky watercourse, and I might tip over, getting cold and wet.  What if I damaged my boat?  What if in tipping over, I hit my head on a rock and was injured?  What if I tipped over, hit my head on a rock, and then drowned?  These were all remote possibilities, and such thoughts do make the heart beat faster and pump more adrenaline through the body, but in the end, I had taken the necessary precautions and was content with my odds. 
​
But there was something seething deeper that I didn’t want to admit and was actually sort of ashamed of:  I, a grown man, was afraid of those junior-hi rascals.  True, they were just immature kids, but they were people—a large crowd of people with piercing eyes watching, calculating, judging.  I knew that it wasn’t about the cold, ferocious water or the challenging line through which I would have to expertly maneuver and not even about life and limb.  No, something deeper was at stake: my value and worth was once again on the line.  

​Life feels like that sometimes.  No matter how well I did previously, I have to go out there into that arena and do it again…win the contest, bring home the bacon, save the princess, defeat the foe.  Passing life’s tests can feel exhilarating as I prove myself and get the answer to the question, “Do I have what it takes?”  But a few days pass, and the question haunts me again, and I wonder.  Then in another trial, another contest I prove my ability, but still I wonder.  It seems to matter little that I did great deeds in past days.  It’s all about proving myself now, again on this fresh field of battle.  But I don’t feel fresh anymore.  The contests, the wins, and the losses, though they bring a rush of euphoria in a fleeting moment, leave this warrior weary.  Something is always spent, a deposit withdrawn from an ever-decreasing account.  

​As I drifted toward the current that would take me down to the wave trains, down past the teens, down to the reply that my heart shuttered to find the answer to, I suddenly didn’t want to do this anymore.  I didn’t want to go through another test and let another crowd determine whether I was good enough or let their voices determine my worth.  And then…amid the roar of the rapids and the shouts of the mob and weighed down by my fearful heart’s rapid pulsing, I whispered a prayer, “Oh, Jesus, will you help me!”  

That moment reminds me of the time Peter walked on water.  In Matthew 14:25 it says, “And in the fourth watch of the night He [Jesus] came to them, walking on the angry sea.”  In the wee hours of the morning when the darkness is thickest, the disciples were desperate, and the situation felt hopeless.  It was then that Jesus came to them.  Peter, on seeing Jesus, asked permission to walk out on the waves to Him.  Jesus responded, “Come on.”  So, Peter stepped out, let go, and walked forward.  Everything was going really well until he looked at the wind and the waves.  He took his eyes off Jesus and fixed his gaze and his thoughts on the scariness of the ocean swelling around him.  And he sank.  In this futility and helplessness, he did the only sensible thing he’d done all day; he cried out to Jesus, “Save me!”  With compassion Jesus reached out His hand to catch Peter, saying, “You of little faith; why did you doubt?” They climbed into the boat, and the waves calmed. 
​
We tend to hone in on the central encounter between Peter and Jesus in this account, but there’s a boatful of other disciples that are part of the story, too.  They were all frightened—panicked even—fatigued to their human limit from rowing all night, and then they saw Jesus, but thought Him a ghost.  All the disciples, Peter and the lot of them, were having one of the worst experiences of their lives.  And when Jesus came to them, it’s not what He said to Peter that grabs my attention most, but what He told them all, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”  The Greek renders it, “Be courageous; I Am.”  

---

Wow! when the chips were down for the disciples and their backs were against the wall, Jesus cheerfully strode across the water and simply said, “Hey, fellas! be courageous because guess what?  I AM!” 
​
The Great I Am…He was here before Moses and Abraham.  He saw the foundations of the world formed with a Word.  As a matter-of-fact, He was that Word!  He baffled the religious leaders and bestowed power to some fishermen.  He restored the broken, healed the sick, and resurrected the dead.  He broke the power of the Law and the curse of death, and then the Great I Am hung from the cross and cried, “It is finished!”  He not only made it possible for us to have eternal life, but He paid for all the striving, all the testing to see if we were worth anything, all the battles to prove ourselves…all of it was covered and provided for once and for all.  

So, when Jesus came at the critical moment declaring to those trembling disciples “Take courage; I Am,” He wasn’t just speaking to them, but making a declaration for us all that when the Great I Am is with us, we don’t need to worry about much else.  When the Great I Am is with us, a little splashy sea water doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.  And when the Great I Am is with us, it doesn’t much matter what the crowd thinks of us.  It’s what the Great I Am thinks that counts. 
​
In my whitewater boat, facing the wind and waves and crying out to Jesus, I thought about my prayer and considered just what was it I wanted Jesus to help me do?  Run the rapid?  Look good in front of some adolescent strangers?  Not drown?  In truth, it was probably a little of all of those things I wanted, but what He knew I needed most was the reassurance from the voice of the Shepherd that I am valuable beyond my abilities. No matter what happened, whether I looked like a hero or a goat, I needed to remember Jesus considers me worth loving.  I am worth loving!  The answer is so simple that I almost blush to write it:  I need to be reminded that Jesus loves me and that I can love myself, despite my performance.  Because of Jesus' unconditional love all the tests of merit, performances and striving for worth can cease leaving life full of abundance, opportunity and plain old fashioned fun.

So, did I ride the river down like an ace paddler or swim every swell sputtering like a fool the whole way?  That really doesn’t matter.  However, if you know Jesus much at all, then you already know what He said in response to my question, “Oh, Jesus, will You help me?” 
​
With the kindness and strength of the Great I Am, He simply said, “I will.” 

When I got to the bottom of the rapid, past the noisy gawkers and churning tempest, one of my co-workers paddled up next to me and eagerly asked, “Wanna carry our boats up and run it again?”  I smiled, thought of Jesus, and grabbed my boat for a second run.

---

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,
neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth,
nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us
​from the love of God ​that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” 
Romans 8:38-39