I love cold water.
All year I look forward to summer days when I can leap into the refreshing coolness of my favorite mountain lake. I love the refreshing shock of the cold water, being enveloped in perfectly clear water, and gliding through its silky softness.
It wasn’t always this way. I played at the edges for years, dipping my toes, perhaps wading, but rarely taking the plunge. To be honest, I was afraid of the cold. I worried that I’d be cold when I got out. I feared my muscles might freeze up and I’d lose my ability to swim halfway across the lake.
I suppose I acquired my fear naturally. I grew up as a missionary kid in Singapore, and swimming there meant warm water and bright, sandy beaches. The scariest thing about the water was the crab that tried to nip my toes one day.
But then we moved to California. It was a great disappointment. The lakes were stunning—and cold! The ocean was gray and uninviting—and cold. Swimming became something I enjoyed only in the summer in my grandma’s warm pool.
Then I got married, and I was amazed by my husband’s love for the ocean. For 20 years I watched him swim, wishing the water was warmer so I could join him.
A few years back I gave up and decided I was going to swim whether the water was cold or not. It didn’t take long for me to realize I had missed out on one of life’s greatest simple pleasures.
What Have I Been Missing?
The experience got me thinking about the love of God. The words from my grandpa’s favorite song came back to my mind:
Could we with ink the ocean fill, and were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill, and every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole, though stretched from sky to sky.
—Frederick M. Lehman
Is God’s love as vast as the ocean? Yes, I learned that in kindergarten: “Wide, wide as the ocean, . . . is my Savior’s love.”
But I’ve been asking myself: Am I dabbling at the edges of His love, just as I spent years playing on the shores of the ocean?
If I am honest with myself, the answer is yes. I know God loves me, and I’ve experienced the joy of walking in His love. But when I look deep within, I recognize that there are corners of my life that I’ve been afraid to surrender.
Why? Because I’m afraid of what He’ll do with them. Scared that maybe I won’t like where He leads. Fearful that perhaps I can’t handle the depths.
I’ve realized the deciding factor in surrender is trust. Do I trust that our Father will do only what is ultimately good in my life and those I love?
The Trust Factor
I’ve realized that the deciding factor in surrender is trust. Do I trust that our Father will do only what is ultimately good in my life and the lives of those I love?
This quote from the Adult Sabbath School Bible Study Guide hit home: “God always works to bring about in the end what is good for all concerned. The God of Scripture always does what is good and preferable, given the avenues available to Him in the great controversy.”[*] And this verse reassured my heart: “The Lord is righteous in all His ways, gracious in all His works. The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth. He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him; He also will hear their cry and save them” (Ps. 145:17–19).
My Father is trustworthy. He is gracious in all His ways. I need not fear.
What More Could I Have Done?
Trust is based on knowing someone’s character. I cannot trust someone who is out to get me or who might not have my best interest in mind. That’s why I must come to know my Father’s character so that I can trust Him fully.
The “song of my Beloved” in Isaiah 5:1-4 beautifully reveals God’s yearning love for His children. The “Well-beloved” has a vineyard that He planted in hopes of a fruitful harvest. He chose a productive location with the natural benefits of sunlight and rich soil. Then He went to work to improve it even further. He removed the stones, tilled the land, planted the finest vines, and ensured its protection. He had every right to expect a good yield.
But that’s not what He found at the harvest. Instead He found wild grapes instead of cultivated ones. Bitter instead of sweet. Pain instead of joy.
Listen to His heartbroken cry: “What more could have been done to My vineyard that I have not done in it?” (Isa. 5:4).
Our Savior (the “Well-beloved”) has done everything possible for us. No matter how much sin may have ravaged the hillsides of our lives, we have a Savior who chose us because He wanted us. He gently uprooted the weeds of sin, removed the stones from our hardened hearts, and planted the choice vine of His own life. He gave Himself to protect us from Satan’s attacks.
Yet how often do our lives fail to produce the beautiful fruit of love and holiness that He intended? Why? Because our trust falters, and we fear plunging headlong into His love. We fear what we do not know, what He may ask of us, and that perhaps He does not have our best interest at heart.
Let us pause to listen to His heart: “What more could have been done to My vineyard that I have not done in it?” He has done everything He could for you and me. There is nothing that would be for our good that He has withheld.
We might not see everything clearly right now, but we can trust that where we perceive chaos, God is creating order. Where we feel pain, He is developing beauty. Where we experience fear, He remains trustworthy.
Someday soon we will be able to sing the song of Moses and the Lamb with full understanding: “Great and marvelous are Your works, Lord God Almighty! Just and true are Your ways, O King of the saints!” (Rev. 15:3).
The Dolphin Club
Yesterday our family picnicked by Aquatic Park in San Francisco, a protected cove with a storied past. Old-time ships rest at anchor across the bay, relics preserved by the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park. An energetic cocker spaniel was the only creature brave enough to play in the winter waves.
But the dog was not alone. A constant stream of swimmers crossed the cove in designated swimming lanes. Their bright swim caps made them easy to see as they swam through the choppy surf with powerful strokes.
When I got home, I did a little research. Those intrepid swimmers were members of the Dolphin Club, which began in 1877 to promote swimming and rowing in San Francisco Bay. Forty years later the club hosted the first-ever open-water swim beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. Today club members regularly brave the cold waters of San Francisco Bay, training for some of the toughest swimming possible.
The Dolphin Club swimmers take cold-water swimming way beyond anything I have tried. And they thrive on it.
They remind me of the spiritual giants who have come before me—the ones in the faith club of Hebrews 11 whose stories inspire me with their faith and fortitude. Like the swimmers in Aquatic Park, my heroes made a habit of spiritual exercise—a daily surrender to the love of God and a willingness to follow wherever He might lead. They trusted God’s character enough to plunge deep. They learned to swim against the currents of doubt and sin that surrounded them. Their bold work for God made them easy to identify in the waves. And they won the race, for they knew that God “is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him” (Heb. 11:6).
What Does Trust Look Like?
At times it feels like a brave plunge into breathtakingly cold water—a new adventure with God in something we’ve never experienced before.
At times it feels like complete relaxation in a hot tub—total peace as we rest in God’s love for us.
But most often trust resembles those intrepid swimmers in the San Francisco Bay—choosing daily to immerse ourselves in God’s Word and His love because we know that, no matter how unpleasant life may feel, He is exactly what we need.
O love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
—George Matheson
I’m diving in. Will you join me?
[*] John C. Peckham, Adult Sabbath School Bible Study Guide (Teachers Edition): God’s Love and Justice, (Nampa, Idaho: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 2025) p. 139.
