Standing on the shore
When I was at university, I went bodyboarding with a group of friends at Easter. There wasn’t
a wetsuit available that fitted my muscular lanky frame so I just wore a pair of shorts. This
was a mistake. After leaving the water 20-30 minutes later, I was extremely cold and
according to those I was with, fairly incoherent. Put simply, I had symptoms of mild
hypothermia and felt out of sorts for nearly a week afterwards.
About ten years later, I found myself in the Dominican Republic. The group I was with took
part in a fantastic activity, scrambling up streams and gorges before sliding down again and
doing some coasteering-style jumps into pools of water. It was brilliant and I loved it.
However, the activity and temperature change in the water sent my body into a sort of shock.
Within a couple of hours, back at the resort, I was wrapped up in jeans and a hoody,
shivering relentlessly, despite the temperature being in the mid to high thirties. Fortunately,
the effects were more short-lived this time, perhaps aided by the self-prescribed medicinal
qualities of all-inclusive rum!
These somewhat adverse experiences mean that I don’t have a strongly positive relationship
with cold water. If I’m in a wetsuit or fall in off a paddleboard, I’m ok but my wife will testify to
my reluctance to go into the sea even at the height of summer. I don’t find it refreshing or
relaxing and I’d much rather remain in some sort of shade reading a book. As I was regaling
these anecdotes to John on a run recently, we enjoyed the irony of me choosing to be part of
Ocean Church.
In this season of dipping our church is practising, I have been ankle-deep in the water. Once.
It was a reflective moment and I’m glad I did it. But, if I am being truly honest, I know I won’t
hurry back to it. My body’s reaction to even the prospect of submerging myself in the sea
borders on a fear response. It means in one sense, I can’t fully get on board with a big part
of what the community and church I am part of is collectively doing and experiencing in this
season.
This sense of partial separation from what the church I am part of is practising is a feeling I
have had before. In the past there have been songs I have not felt comfortable singing
because some of the words I disagreed with. There have been practices I have not fully
understood, enjoyed or participated in for one reason or another. I’m guessing that this
phenomenon is not unique to me. And this, I believe, is all ok.
It is possible to get frustrated or disillusioned when we feel like we’re not taking part or
embracing something that the rest of our group is part of. However, the reality is that the
communities that we are part of won’t match perfectly to us all of the time. They are made up
of people like us, but at different stages on their journeys. When I am in this situation, it is
up to me to actively choose not to compare myself to others. The quote, “Comparison is the
thief of joy,” is widely attributed to Theodore Roosevelt and its message encourages us not
to seek self-worth and happiness based solely on others’ experiences.
We have choices when we are in this sort of situation. At present, I’m nearly entirely on the
dry land of the shoreline when it comes to dipping, whereas many are wading and
submerging themselves. Instead, I choose to cheer them on, despite knowing I won’t have
the same experience. I relate the daily reflections about dipping to my own life. When others
share their reflections, I don’t need to let bitterness or apathy in because I am in a different
place, but I will be glad that collectively we are moving forward.
Perhaps there have been or will be times where you don’t feel you fully fit in with a church or
other group. That’s ok. As I remind myself there will be for me, know that there will be other
adventures waiting for you.
