No Splash. None.
I respect and admire athletes who can dive. The strength. The grace. The supreme concentration. The split-second execution after endless training, nearly perfect.
And no splash.
Maybe one of the reasons I admire these athletes so much is that their skills are so far beyond mine, admiration is all I can come up with. In junior-high I tried for six weeks straight to get the hang of a simple front hand-spring — sans water. It never happened.
So to see an athlete leave the high-dive, execute with grace and strength on the way down, then slip into the water without so much as a splash leaves me speechless.
I respect the skill and finesse of athletes who can do this:
This week finds me focusing my energy and attention on the ministry that begins soon in my role in western Nebraska. It looks like the start is going to be more like a 10-meter high-dive than a wary toddler wading into the surf.
God has done SO much in setting things up, some of which has happened fast. This almost feels like a Reverse 2.5 – in my mind anyway.
Remembering all I’ve learned.
And no splash.
In a spiritual sense, no splash is a bit like John the Baptist’s perspective:
“He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)
So I’m diving in.
We and our belongings will arrive mid-to-late week. We’ll unload the truck, and Sunday morning I’m teaching a Sunday School class and leading worship. My third Sunday I speak. I really hope I just slip into the flow of things.
If someone mentions a few weeks after our arrival “It almost seems like you’ve always been here”, I’ll know God answered my prayer for —
No splash. None.