My sister Mary tried to teach me to float on my back in the water when I was about nine or ten.  Kicking and flailing, and gasping for every breath like it was my last, I failed miserably as a floater.  Mary never stopped trying to help me, although she admitted it was much easier trying to teach me to swim than to float!  Ultimately, it was up to me to lie back in the water, relax, and trust that the principle of displacement would be operative, and my body would be kept afloat.  Nevertheless, on countless occasions, I would sink like an anchor.  I still remember my sister's steady hands beneath my back and waist, and her reassuring words, "Relax.  I've got you."  At some point, though, when she thought I was relaxed, she would let go.  Then I would experience a momentary muscle spasm, and "Blub, blub, blub…"  My torso would struggle to stay afloat, my arms and legs would flutter, and then my head would be submerged altogether.  "Blub, blub, blub…"

Being in relationship with God who is "love," as the First Letter of John (4:8) reminds us, is much like learning how to float, or so I am discovering.  There are no certain "techniques," nor any sure ways to keep from sinking and drowning, outside of this: trust.  We are asked to trust that our God is always present, always desirous of us, calling us into covenant fidelity and trust.  "For you are a people sacred to the Lord, your God; he has chosen you from all the nations on the face of the earth to be a people peculiarly his own."  (Deut. 7:6)  God chooses us from all eternity to be one in love with God and others.  It is the holiest of all desires, this longing for community, and it originates with God, not with us.

For all our frantic efforts to "get to God," we miss the point that God has already gotten to us:  God has gotten IN us through Christ.  We can even see Jesus standing here today, saying those words of Matthew's Gospel (11:28-30), pleading with us to come to Him with our burdens our weighty troubles, and to find rest in the burden that is self-giving love.  Still, we might find ourselves saying, "Jesus, show us how to get to God," as though Jesus Himself were NOT the way, as though His heart does not have the capacity to love us as only God can love us.  I have been in that boat with Peter many times, crying out, "Lord, if it is really you, tell me to come to you across the water!" (Matt. 14:28)  And, like Peter, I fail miserably.  "Blub, blub, blub…"

Swimming is not what God requires of us; floating is what God requires.  Letting go of our worst fears, our burdens and anxieties, and trusting in the God who is love is what brings us into the reality of God's community.  We can spend the rest of our lives spluttering and sinking, desperately wondering of God will save us.  Rather, we can believe that God is like the water, surrounding us with love and constancy.  That water can seem overwhelming at times; it can frighten and consume us.  Yet, all we need to do is lie back, relax, and entrust ourselves to God's holy desire, that is, to cradle us for all eternity.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, refresh us!

******By the way, now I love to float on my back!******