underwater

it was a sticky Saturday afternoon, and the four of us were drifting through an abandoned, artsy neighborhood. the outer walls that towered along the broken sidewalk were draped with colorful murals, and i stepped slowly letting my fingers brush over their texture. the faint sound of running water reached my ears and within a few more steps we stumbled upon a little park neatly tucked into the street’s curve. while the others took a seat, i skipped up to the fountain i had heard moments earlier, sinking my fingers into the cool water and bringing the drops up to my neck.

and that’s when i saw her.

her legs were affixed to a metal pipe two inches underwater, her wings slowdancing back and forth to the rhythm of the water’s movement. i couldn’t tell if she was alive but i knew she wasn't supposed to be there. my fingers slid under the cool water once again, tickling the butterfly's legs so she would climb up onto them. she hesitated, remaining fastened to the pipe, but with a little bit of coaxing she carefully climbed up onto my finger and i lifted her into oxygen.

the trees leaning over me were casting much-needed shadows, but i knew i needed to find sun for her to soak in and dry her wings before she did anything else. so i placed her on a sun-drenched leaf, and with nothing else left for me to do, the four of us placed the park at our backs, wandering down another street.


i didn’t really understand what God wanted to speak to me through that two-minute encounter until the other night as i was looking up at the stars in the hallway outside of my dorm.

“that butterfly is just like you, babe. you are clinging so tightly to the wrong thing. you weren’t made to be underwater - you were made to fly. let me pull you up and out into My world.”

listen to me. you were not made to remain motionless, trapped underwater. you were made to fly. God is not an anchor that keeps you still in one place, rooted in fear; He is the oxygen that courses through the air, the unpredictable gust of wind that impulses you to experience new things and fly to breath-stealing heights.


i don’t know how that butterfly wound up underwater or why it was clutching so desperately to that pipe, but i’m guessing that it flew too close to the fountain and fell in, began to struggle, and out of panic anchored itself onto something it thought was sturdy. once the feeling of panic lessened, it realized the weight of the water around it was heavier than expected, so it quit struggling and just decided to stay there.

sometimes we misinterpret an anchor for security, when truly the security suffocates instead of bringing life. 

we know it’s not ideal, but as we grow accustomed to the bearing the heaviness of lies and worries we no longer see a way out and decide to conform with where we find ourselves. 

when God pulls you out from underwater- or rather, when you let Him pull you out- it doesn’t mean that you’re immediately ready to start flying. sometimes you need to let Him take you through that process of sitting in His presence, absorbing His truth and letting Him strip away the lies and deception that you’ve let soak into you for so long.

“sit in My presence,” He says to me. “you were created to fly, but first you need to sit in My presence.”

this is where i’m at right now. sitting in His presence and being reminded of my true identity.