My Rescue, My Redeemer

Kicking forward with all my might.

Hands in steady motion.

Water rushing over every ounce of me.

Confidence pulsing through my veins.

The water is alive. It's active. It cleanses the soul.

I was in my element.

I kept paddling, my feet kicking, racing against the enemy…

He kept trying to cloud my vision.

To keep me from my victory.

Slapping the water. Pushing against each other.

Swimming. Coming up for air. Forward motion.

Then suddenly—

Pulled under.

Flailing arms.

Breath depleting.

Panic striking every part of my body.

Suffocating.

Fully confident, to losing all control.

Trapped.

Fighting for my life.

Holding on to the light, which was growing dimmer.

Keep fighting? What's the point? I'm drowning.

But fighting is the obvious decision.

Living. That's what we all want.

To live, to breathe, to thrive, and experience life.

But when the enemy has you under his weight—

Pulling you under, further and further,

Down into the dark—

Where the light that once was slowly fades away.

Where your body grows weaker, and your lungs begin to surrender—

Your hope fades.

You're sinking.

Deeper and deeper.

Once holding on.

Now letting go.

Lifeless.

Needing someone. Anyone. To save you.

But there is no one.

Then suddenly—

A strong and mighty Hand—the Hand that fashioned the world and knit me together—

Pushes the enemy out of the way and snatches my lifeless body out of the water—

Bringing me back into the light.

Breathing life back into my lungs, restoring what the darkness tried to take.

Living.

Breathing.

Thriving.

All because of my Jesus.

He is always watching over me—

Even when I don't see Him.

He's My Rescue.

He's My Redeemer.

Psalm 18:16, “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; and drew me out of deep waters.”

-Tiffany Wasson