August 22

Last summer we had a lot of rain and all season the rivers and creeks ran high—much higher than normal, and much faster. So, what did 8 of us from the church decide to do? Go white water rafting on the New River. Most of the intrepid crew were first-timers. I had only white water rafted once before, and that was basically during a drought! This time, however, was much different and more dangerous. We were a bit nervous as we met at the church that morning, after another night of rain, wondering whether or not we should go. We called the raft company to find out if they were even operating with the water that high and fast. Deep down I was hoping they weren’t, but they were. But we had among us Jack Bennett, a true veteran of white water and a beloved river rat if ever there was one. Jack warned us it would be very hard work and reminded half of us we weren’t young anymore. But, with the appearance of being undaunted, we headed for the New River and an exhilarating day together come rain or come shine, wet or dry.

Aboard the bus that took us down to the landing where we would put in, we were given our instructions by the senior raft guide, mostly safety instructions. And the final sobering words you hear just before you get off the bus are, “This is not an amusement park or a roller coaster. There are no safety bars to hold you. People have died doing this. If you change your mind and decide not to go, now’s your last chance. We’ll give you your money back and take you back to the lodge.” Not us. After all, we had Jack with us!

When we reached our raft, we met our guide—a bright-eyed, tiny and trim young woman from Kentucky. This was her summer job during college, and I imagine that running through the other 7 minds was what ran through mine as we each looked around at the other guides, all hardy, rugged, muscular males—“Are we in good hands here?” She assured us that she had watched a video about rafting and knew what she was doing—just kidding. She had actually endured a long and vigorous training period before allowed to do what she was now about to do with us. I was feeling a bit more confident. And she said she had never had to throw her life-line to anyone who went overboard to get them back on board. That was good news. She also told us that she was an asthmatic and where she stored her inhaler, in case we needed to help her if she had an attack. But that had only happened once, she said, and that was when she had been popped out of raft. That pretty much wiped out any confidence that had just been restored. But, we still had Jack.

She put Jon Villers and Jerry Hall, neither of whom had ever done this before, in the most important spots at the front of the raft, since they were two youngest, strongest and biggest among us. Jerry thought it was great because he would have a front row seat to the action. That was fine with me as long as he remembered to keep paddling. We sat 4 on each side, with the guide at the back.

We pushed off and practiced paddling a bit, then away we went. The river truly was much higher than I had seen it before. That day the water level was among the tree tops along the bank.

The first part of the journey was a snap. Mostly it was flat with a couple of class 2 and 3 rapids to negotiate. But when we turned the bend of the river after lunch, the real adventure began. Before us were nothing but wild and “no-kidding-around” class 4 and 5 rapids, with dangerous holes and massive rocks beneath and above the river.

Before entering each rapid, the guide always told us what to do just in case anyone, as she put it, “went swimming,” which was a polite was of saying, “Get tossed out.”

We were spectacular and our petite guide was masterful. We negotiated every one of the class 5 without a hitch, and as we came near the end, with only 3 or 4 more rapids to go through, we approach one called “Teacher’s Pet,” a class 3—no big deal—all the big ones were behind us. And then, just after starting in, we hit a rush of waves from the wrong angle. The next thing I knew, up came the front of the raft, which meant down came Jon and Jerry, falling back toward the rest of us. It was like dominoes. The first rolled into the second, the first and second rolled into the third (which was where I was—for the moment at least), and God have mercy on the fourth one in line! And last of all at that the bottom of the pile would be the guide. This thing was going to flip! Up came the front and out we all went, guide included—except Jerry. Somehow he managed to stay aboard and the raft didn’t flip, but everyone else and all the oars were over board. Down we go into water churning like a powerful washing machine. When I went in and under, I wasn’t sure if I was underneath the raft or someone or maybe two others were on top of me. All I know is I had a heck of time getting to the surface. When I did, low and behold, there was the raft only a few strokes away. I reached out and grabbed it. The guide must have popped back in as quickly as she had popped out. I remember seeing Jerry standing in the raft, yelling, “Where’s Rev. Johnson?” Had I had wind enough, I would have told Jerry, “Here I am. Help me in.” Whistles from other raft guides were blowing all around, sending out warnings and calling for help.

Jack and Rusty Stalnaker managed to get back in. I held on to the side of the raft and beside me was Doy Colman, hanging on for dear life, too. It was all happening so quickly, and remember, we were still just at the entrance of the rapids. I was getting ready to make a hard pull to get myself back in the raft when all of a sudden the guide yells out to any of us holding on to the raft, “Let go! Let go, and swim away. Swim hard to the middle.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Let go, swim away. I’m thinking in that split second, “Now, I realize I’m no genius, but I’ve also never though of myself as an ignoramus, either. I’ve got hold of a raft for safety and you’re telling me to let go in this wild water and swim away.” I looked over at Doy and said, “We’ve got to let go.”

Let go we did and try as we might to swim as hard as we could, I remember seeing Doy, with a blank stare in his eyes, being carried along by that mighty current. We were like two corks bobbing along out of control. And I really did begin to wonder, “This may be it.” Jon Villers did get caught the most treacherous hole of Teacher’s Pet,” one, as the story goes, in which the carcass of a deer got caught and was swirled around for a week before finally being spun out. Jon twisted round and round, then asked God to give him just one more breath and out he came. He was picked up, as was Starla Snead and Doy. Another raft picked up Archie Snedegar, and there was no way on earth or water he had any desire to get back in our raft! He stayed with his rescuers.

I was still pretty far away from the raft trying to swim to it against the current. Then, for the first time in her career, out came the guide’s life-line and she threw it my way, or at least she tried to. It fell well short of where I was. I remember her repeatedly shouting encouragement for me to keep swimming to the rope. “Come on, babe, you can do it. Come on, babe, you can make it.” I thought, “Just keep calling me babe and I’ll swim as far as I need to!” I don’t get called babe very often, and she even knew I was a Baptist preacher.

I was the last one pulled aboard, winded and wheezing. I rolled over the side of the raft, looked up at Jack Bennett across from me and said, “Man, Jack, I am so out of shape.” My next thought was to thank God our guide hadn’t had an asthmatic attack!

We finished the journey, a bit traumatized and not too chipper. Later, in the club house as we watched the video tape of our trip, I sat next to the guide and I asked her, “Why did you tell us to let go?” She said because the raft was heading straight for Teacher’s Pet and those in the raft had no way to control the raft without paddles. Hanging on the side going into that whirlpool would have been disastrous for us hanging on and for them. She knew we in the water and those in the raft would be safer if we let go. Only then did her instruction to let go make sense, but to me it made not sense at the time.

I am one who believes that if we take time to do spiritual reflection and prayerful pondering on experiences that come our way in life, doors to growth and grace will open to us in and through those experiences. What that river experience continues to tell me for the whole of life is the spiritual truth contained in her two words, “Let go.”

I learned in the river that day that to let go, I had to admit I needed help. As much as we like to think we can handle everything alone or fix it or control it or take care of it, we can’t. And as long as we think we can, we will never release our grip. Lee Smith, in her novel Amazing Grace, has a character say that there are only two prayers: thank you and help. Safety is found in letting go, and the first act of letting go is realizing and acknowledging we can’t manage alone. We need God. We need one another.

I also in the river had to listen to the guide and trust her. She knew the river in a greater way than I ever would. She was aware of dangers ahead I couldn’t see. She saw a way out, a way to safety I could not envision. My fear and psyche said, “Hold on.” My guide said, “Let go.”

In a more universal sense in life, that young guide became a stand-in for God as she said, “Let go.” God is a reliable River Guide and God cares enough for us to tell us, “Don’t’ hang on. It is dangerous and deadly. Trust me and let go.” The opposite of letting go with trust is hanging on in fear. To let go with trust is to be free of anxiety and worry. Trust the Guide. The Guide is reliable, knows more, sees more. Let go and rely on God. After you admit you need help, listen to God and trust God. Listen and trust and let go.

The Epistle to the Hebrews calls us to let go and let God be the center of our lives, as we travel towards our heavenly home.

We become very attached to what we have, don’t we—earthly treasures or status or stuff. It is always a turning point in life when you hear God tell you, “Strip down to the essentials, and what is essential is to let go and trust.” Listen to the Guide. Trust the Guide. Then do what the Guide says. Listen and let go. Trust and obey. Trust and let go and do what God tells you, whether others consider you are a fool or call you a heretic. Let go, trust God and do what God wants. Every morning make an offering of availability to God and take a vow of obedience. God will always hold us and guide us when we let go and travel on, when we trust and obey.

Letting go needs to be more than a momentary impulse or lip service. It needs to become a way of life. It’s not easy, but it is possible.

To let go is to become less dependent on things or status or the desire to control and more flexible, pliable, open to the grace and guidance of God.

Let go of old, worn out paths of thinking and believing, perceiving and understanding that will not get us to where God wants us to go or be who God wants us to be.

Let go of the things we believe we can’t live without or that will save our souls.

Let go of being our own gods and lords, of the fear for our own security, of stifling clutter in our lives and false images of ourselves.

Let go and gain—gain greater wholeness in Christ. Let go and live—live a graceful and gentle, a courageous and compassionate life in Christ.

It is so very healing and liberating when we learn to let go by choice. Sometimes life forces us to let go against our will. The loss of a job, health, or the radical letting go with the death of a loved one. But the better we get at choosing to let go of things to which we cling, the better equipped we become to trust God when we are forced to let go. If we learn to let go and trust God voluntarily, we will be able to survive and thrive when we are forced to let go involuntarily.

In the end, of course, we shall each be forced to let go of everything, all the things we couldn’t bear to give us in this life. Death is the ultimate, grand letting go to trust Jesus Christ, the one who leads us and makes our faith complete (12:2 cev). Eventually, we have to release all and return home in the buoyancy of God’s grace and mercy. Naked we came into the world and that’s how we shall exit it. With our last breath, we let go of this life and travel home, a heavenly home, a place, as my dear friend Rod Romney describes it, where we know we are safe, where we fully belong, and where our spirits can soar and grow.

I believe letting go is part of life’s design and God’s plan. It has been called, “the sacrament of letting go.”[1] That sacred act is what I was reminded of that day in the river. Daily, let go and trust God. Daily, we offer our lives to God, forgetting ourselves in the great cloud of witnesses, the great company of all those who trust in God. Daily, we let go of all we cling to and with trust release ourselves in this world and the next to a Love that will not let us go.

Loving God, among the many entanglements and attachments of this world, keep our eyes, our minds, our hearts fixed on our Lord Jesus Christ, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, that we may be free to let to, trust you, and at the last come to the fullness of your eternal home; through the same Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen.[2]

[1] Macrina Wiederkehr, Seasons of Your Heart, 7.

[2] Adapted from a prayer by David Adam, Glimpses of Glory.

[3] Song improvised by Ken Medema for this special service of the Baptist Temple.