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Thinking about this idea of drifting, I recalled a day when I saw two little girls in a boat in a London park. They lost their oars, then called their parents on the shore for help. "Don't worry," shouted the father of one of the girls from the bank. "We're here for you." Knowing that their fathers were nearby and that help was coming, the girls relaxed. They sat back in their boat, allowing it to go where it wanted. They spun in a full circle; they edged into the bank; they came out again, weaving all kinds of beautiful circular patterns and lines.

I remember how gently and elegantly the boat wove through the water. The girls had accepted their temporary plight for the time being and could thus enjoy it, lying back and following the rhythm of the boat. Soon enough they were brought in to shore.

The people on the Anastasis had learned to replace the cultural oars that had guided their lives with the intimate leading of the Lord's own hand. In a world that insists on certitude, action, goals, and achievement, drifting or pausing in life is an unspeakable crime. It flies in the face of our cultural admonition to keep moving at all cost, to constantly "do" and never "be."

Yet, it is often in moments or seasons of drifting in our lives, when the oars have slipped from our hands and our boat spins around us, that God can speak to us. Perhaps when we drift we are more able to hear the Father's voice, saying, "Trust and be free—I am here for you."

Marie Dawson is a British journalist who has lived in the U.S. for 11 years. She writes for publications in the U.S., Britain, and Canada and is working on a novel.

Copyright © 1995 Christianity Today, Inc./Christianity Today Magazine

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November 13 1995, Vol. 39, No. 13