Before Life Pushes You In

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” — Isaiah 43:2

Change.

I thought I loved change. Throughout most of my life, I believed I adapted relatively well to life’s shifting seasons—the welcome ones and the difficult ones.

But then came the last few years.

When change bruises your heart deeply, time after time, it begins to feel less like an adventure and more like an unwelcome intruder. Eventually, you grow weary of adjusting. You want to plant your feet firmly on familiar ground, fold your arms, and say, “No more. I don’t want anything else to change.”

Yesterday, while watching my four grandchildren play—and occasionally fight—at the swimming pool, I caught an unexpected glimpse of myself… like God speaking to me in S-L-O-W motion.

Our five-year-old grandson, Maxwell, has receptive and expressive language delays. He sometimes has difficulty fully understanding what is happening around him and expressing what he wants or needs.

That afternoon, the children were laughing and taking turns pushing one another into the pool. Maxwell enjoyed pushing the others into the water, but after a while, he had experienced enough plunges himself. He was finished being pushed.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite find the words to make the other children understand. The game continued, and so did the pushing.

Then, a scene unfolded before me, again, it like God was speaking in slow motion.

Maxwell was me.

One of the other children was Life.

And the water was Change.

Life moved toward Maxwell, determined to push him into the pool. Maxwell planted his feet, lifted his little hands defensively, and screamed at the top of his lungs, “No! No! No!”

But Life kept coming.

Finally, Maxwell realized he could not stop what was about to happen. The water was inevitable. But instead of waiting helplessly to be pushed, he suddenly turned around and jumped.

He entered the water on his own terms.

Seconds later, his little red head bobbed above the surface. Instead of crying, he was laughing—joyfully and triumphantly laughing.

The water had not changed. The outcome had not changed. But something within Maxwell had changed.

He stopped fighting the inevitable and chose to enter it willingly.

“There is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). No matter how tightly we hold to what is comfortable and familiar, change will come. Children grow up. Relationships shift. Health evolves. Doors close. Responsibilities change. People leave. New assignments arrive. Carefully constructed life plans are … interrupted.

Sometimes change gently invites us forward. At other times, it rushes toward us like a powerful wave, pushing us into deep waters filled with uncertainty, fear, grief, and confusion.

We cannot always choose what changes. We cannot control every circumstance, prevent every loss, or preserve every beloved season. (And as women, oh how we would like to “control” the situations of life) But often, we can choose how we will enter the water.

Will I allow change to push me in while I kick, scream, and become bitter about circumstances I cannot control?

Or will I turn toward the water, place my trust in God, and jump—believing He will meet me beneath the surface?

Jumping does not mean the change doesn’t hurt. Surrender is not denial, and faith does not require us to pretend that deep water is shallow. It simply means that instead of being dragged unwillingly into the next season, we place ourselves in the hands of the One who is already there.

God never promised that we would avoid the waters. He promised that we would not enter them alone:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” — Isaiah 43:2

Notice that He says when, not if.

The waters will come, but so will His presence.

Perhaps joy is not found in controlling everything that happens to us. Perhaps joy comes from knowing that no change can carry us beyond the reach of God. Even when the water is deeper than we expected, His everlasting arms remain beneath us.

Today, I can stand at the edge, (maybe you’re standing there with me… ) bracing myself against what I cannot stop. Or I can take a breath, trust my Father, and jump.

And perhaps, by His grace, I will rise from the deep water with my head above the surface—and discover that laughter is still possible.

I have a choice.

Not always a choice about what happens, but a choice about where I place my trust when it does.

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Let’s think about this together:

What change are you resisting today?

What might it look like to stop fighting the water and entrust yourself—and the outcome—to God?

Additional Scriptures: Psalm 46:1–3; Proverbs 3:5–6; Philippians 4:11–13; Habakkuk 3:17–19

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Prayer

Father, I confess that I am weary of change. Some changes have wounded my heart and left me afraid of what may happen next. When I cannot control my circumstances, help me remember that I am still held securely by You. Give me the courage to surrender what I cannot prevent and the faith to enter each new season knowing You are already there. When the waters are deep, keep my heart from bitterness and my mind from fear. Help me rise again with renewed hope—and even joy. In Jesus’ name, amen.