When our son was about 8 or 9 years old, I felt the need to teach him how to swim. A church member offered me her in-ground pool. Perfect! He learned to swim the width of the pool at the shallow end. So I walked him up to the deep end and announced,

“Just do again what you already did at the shallow end. Swim across the width. It’s exactly the same distance.”

He looked at me skeptically.

“Look,” he said. “Is that water over my head?”

“Sure, but the deep water will help to hold you up.” (I really wasn’t sure about the veracity of my observation. Was my statement actually supported by science?) He entered the deep water and —- just like the disciple Peter on the Sea of Galilee —- he looked down and panicked. I had to rescue him because I was afraid to go home to his mother without him.

Then, some weeks later, our son Paul returned to the inground pool. He informed me that this time he was going to swim across the pool in deep water. So I naturally assumed that he would go into the deep end and endeavor to swim the width. Instead, I saw him step onto the diving board, dive into the pool, and swim the entire length. I was shocked. He had given new meaning to “going off the deep end”!

We generally imagine that we must understand how something works before we commit ourselves to it. But often we have to commit ourselves to doing it even before we actually understand it. The understanding may follow. First comes the commitment, and then the understanding. For instance, when I walk into a dark room, I don’t first have to understand the mystery of electricity before I turn on a light; I just flip the switch.

Once a parishioner gave me his used motorcycle (a Honda 250 cc). I tried to express appreciation, but I was intimidated by this contraption. I knew nothing about riding motorcycles (except that it was dangerous). I tried studying the accompanying manual, only to wind up feeling more lost. One day I was sharing my problem with a woman in my church. She commented

 “My son didn’t know how to ride one either.”

“How did he learn?” 

She said, “Oh, he just got on it and rode it. He learned as he drove.”

And that’s finally what I did. Just commit to it first, and then figure it out.

 
At one time in my life I was an agnostic. I figured I’d stay that way unless, and until, someone could prove to me that there really is a God. As a college student, I met with a dynamic Lutheran pastor in my home neighborhood and immediately challenged him.

“Pastor, I want you to prove God to me.”

He looked at me and laughed. “Son, I can’t prove God to you or to anyone else, but if you just surrender to Him, He will prove Himself to you. You will discover that the Christian faith has a self-authenticating validity.”

And so I did.

And so He did.

If you are perplexed about the role of faith in your life, I urge you to make that commitment. The understanding will follow.