Learning How to Swim

“All through the Bible the contemporary situation is the arena in which you (we) meet God.” (Only One Way Left, George MacLeod, page 27)

It was summertime and the Rev. Dr. Ralph Hoffman escorted Rocky Hensly, Richard Meahl and me to our first junior high school retreat sponsored by the Westminster Presbytery in Central Florida. The presbytery owned and operated a beautiful conference center and campsite on the Withlacoochee River (a Native American name meaning crooked river) in Hernando County.

As I look back over that week in the middle of nowhere, I can’t help but admire the commitment, patience and love expressed by the chaperones, one in particular by the name of Richard Cushman, an associate pastor at the time for a Presbyterian congregation in Tampa. Richard had oversight for the group of which I was a part, about 20 rambunctious boys who were away from home for the first time without their parents. We all had at least one thing in common. We had given little thought about Jesus, but were sure captivated by all of the pretty girls that were attending from churches within the presbytery.

You can only imagine what mealtimes and social gatherings were like. When the Rev. Richard Cushman wasn’t looking, his group made regular raids through the girl’s cabins. Never in my life did I ever think a church camp could be so much fun. Inevitably, we would get caught. I still remember Richard shaking his head when it was discipline time. He would “dress us down” and then do his best to encourage us not to do it again. Let me just say, the temptation was too great. When the camp was over, I remember two prevailing thoughts. I didn’t want to go home and I wanted to come back the next summer.

Following lunch each day there would be a thirty minute rest period followed by a half mile walk up the Withlacoochee where we would jump into the river. The current was so strong all you had to do was basically float all the way to the campsite. Somehow, and this seems strange since I grew up in the great state of Florida (Gator Country), I had never learned to swim. On Monday and Tuesday, instead of walking with my friends to float down the river, I made an excuse not to go. I was too embarrassed.

And then Wednesday came. For some reason that I have long forgotten, I made the decision to to walk the trail in order to see what it was like. When we made it to the “jump site,” instead of joining my cohorts I climbed a palm tree that had grown at a ninety degree angle. It actually grew over the river itself. It was a site of natural beauty. There was the blue sky and sunshine overhead. The sound of a rushing current of water accompanied by the screams and laughter of girls and boys enjoying the gifts of freedom and play. It was wild and natural. Sixty minutes of mayhem.

All of a sudden, I discovered that I was losing my grip and could no longer hold on. I was introduced to the cold river water of the Withlacoochee and realized I had two options. I could fight the current, struggle and maybe drown or I could simply go with the flow, swinging my arms, paddling my legs and hoping for the best, which I did. Amazingly, I learned quickly and how wonderful it was. I was so proud of myself for making it the whole way. My friends cheered me on as they saw me come around the last corner. I will always cherish that feeling of accomplishment. As I was pulled out of the water, I offered a brief and silent prayer, “Thank you, Jesus, for being there when I needed you and thank you for helping me. I promise not to be a problem for the good Reverend Richard Cushman the rest of the time I’m here.” That prayer lasted less than four hours when my group made another early evening raid before Vespers through a nearby residential cabin for girls.

What a week that was on the Withlacoochee. I learned a lot about girls, Jesus and life. That one exciting, exhilarating and wild week was a tiny piece of a larger puzzle that God would use to provide a mentor and good friend in the years to come once I was ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church (USA). You see, the Rev. Richard Cushman, who chased friends and me out of girl’s cabins was the same Richard Cushman who retired a few years ago as the Senior Pastor of the Dorchester Presbyterian in Summerville, SC. We were reunited in 1982 when I accepted the call to the Presbyterian Church on Edisto Island. Richard and I have served together on several presbytery committees and when I’ve had a question about something important in the life of the church, Richard was always there to answer a phone call, listen, and share his grace-filled wisdom. (Richard is now an inpatient at MUSC, Charleston. I solicit your prayers on his behalf.)

Now, to the present moment. It’s hard to believe. Kay and I have never experienced anything like this before. No one has been inside our house since the 18th of March, no one. We enjoy family meetings by Zoom and the front yard as family members and a few neighbors gather in lounge chairs while Kay and I sit on the porch. We share stories, reminisce about what life was like just a few short weeks ago and look to the future as we do what we always do. We tease, poke fun, and laugh at and with one another.

Back to the beginning, lest we forget. George MacCleod says it well, “All through the Bible the contemporary situation is the arena in which you (we) meet God.”

Learning how to swim on the Withlacoochee. Shown grace and not being sent home for running through a girl’s cabin. Enjoying a long-lasting friendship that had somewhat of a rough start but grew warm with respect and high regard through the years. Learning how to adjust and adapt when surprised and upended by a deadly virus. Trying to meet the demands of providing a meaningful ministry to people in new ways in a time of self-isolation. In all of these events and occasions the words of George MacLeod have come alive. This is what I have learned, no matter the situation or circumstance, “The Lord is my strength, my rock, my fortress and my deliverer. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” (Psalm 18.1-2)

The litany remains the same. We do what we need to do for the sake of everyone around us as we remain calm in a time of distress, extend compassion to the suffering, and pray for the healing of the world. We’re in this together and one day closer to a new beginning. In Christ +
—
Steve Keeler, Pastor