UP THE CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE OR CANOE

Did you ever lend someone a helping hand, only to discover that it ended up costing you an arm and a leg?

That was how I felt as the supervisor of a youth group float trip down the Illinois River. It also resulted in a bloodied body and bruised ego.

I am not an outdoor sports kind of guy unless you’re referencing football or baseball or sitting on a Florida beach. I occasionally play golf or tennis. I am just not good with a gun (which makes me a dangerous participant on hunting trips) and not skilled with the rod and reel (which makes me a very frustrating partner on fishing expeditions).

With the exception of floating in the lake on an air mattress, my water sports experiences were usually more of a Titanic disaster than a pleasurable adventure. I once did five cartwheels and one somersault as I skimmed across the water to highlight my water-skiing skills. The slalom board landed on my head.

I was slightly better at driving the boat. I only lost one skier, but, fortunately, he was found by the lake’s Safety Patrol Search and Rescue Operation, unharmed but unhinged.

On another memorable occasion, I flipped a small sailboat upside down in the lake, dumping the contents (lunch basket, tennis shoes, and girl) into the water. I recovered the girl. That happened twice, next time with a different girl. You would think I would learn. The girls did. Sayonara.

My floating the Illinois River in a canoe was even more treacherous. I bravely sponsored a youth group for some summertime fun. Their excitement was overflowing. The rushing river was beautiful.

Our Eagle Scout took off in the lead canoe with most of the group lunch items. He arrived quickly and safely at the intended destination nearly two hours before I showed up in the last canoe.

He was Native American. I do not mention this as a stereotype or racial slur. I am just pointing out that, unlike me, his ancestors had been navigating this river for centuries. In hindsight, it might have been better for him to escort the struggling squaws and little chieftains down the river than to be the scout in this old western movie.

I did not enjoy the trip. My goal was safety, not fun.

Most of our youth group paired up and quickly embarked on the rapid river journey.

I arranged for two of the youngest girls to paddle their canoe right before I brought up the rear with another novice. I wanted to safeguard them.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

Are you kidding me? This float trip was a nightmare!

The young girls in the nearby canoe quickly flipped twice. We recovered everyone and continued down the river.

As we navigated the first bend in the river, we discovered another canoe had overturned, and the youth were standing on the banks of the river. As the empty canoe continued down the rushing stream, it impaled itself on a large branch from a partially submerged tree. The branch went over the bow and then under the first seat. The wood was too big to break. The canoe was stuck.

This is the point in the movie where Superman flies to the rescue of the damsels in distress. I took a deep breath and submerged into the river. I used all my strength and breath trying to dislodge the canoe. Obviously, I lacked the superhero’s abilities.

I struggled, strained, pushed, and pulled for what felt like hours. I imagine the stopwatch time was a matter of seconds.

When I let go, the rushing river current swept me down and away. I was no Aquaman either. “Bounce” is the correct description of my body and the river rocks. I bounced along the rocky bottom until I surfaced at the next corner of the river. I emerged from the water a bruised, bloodied, and beaten young man.

My repeated attempts proved I also lacked any Solomon-like qualities. That rocky riverbed punishment happened four times.

Four attempts of holding my breath and diving under the canoe. Four struggles to dislodge the canoe from the submerged tree branch until the strong force of the raging river threw me against the rocks. Four times the rocks held firm while my lungs filled with water and my marbles rolled around in my mind as my battered body bounced along the riverbed’s firm foundation.

My wild underwater rides “quacked” up the ducks. The old wise turtles and the small naive tadpoles were rolling on the riverbank croaking with laughter.

Scrapes and scratches replaced courage and adrenaline. Exhaustion overcame determination. I would have preferred to be “up the creek without a paddle.”

This was definitely a rock and roll river.

My clothes were torn. My body bruised. My heart and mind wearied from exhaustion. My ego had been swept downstream by the strong river current.

Finally, a park ranger showed up with a chain saw. Where was his first aid kit?

The planned thanksgiving lunch with the natives never happened. While the rest of the youth group munched on sandwiches and cookies while singing Kum ba yah, I was drowning in river water, moaning Ol’ Man River.

I get weary
And sick of trying
I’m tired of living
And scared of dying
But ol’ man river
He just keeps rolling along

As the sun set on the river landscape, I was thankful I had not lost any of the tribe. The loud ride home was truly miserable.

I never scheduled another canoe trip. Somehow, the joy of the journey down the river escaped me.

I am definitely not belittling those who love these adventurous things. I bemoan that I am just not particularly good at them and, thus, lack the same enjoyment.

I do love the swishing sound of a basketball shot going through the net. It can be both enjoyable and exciting. It takes practice, but that is part of the joy of the journey.

Learning to love first and love most is also an enjoyable part of this life’s journey. It also has to be learned because it does not come naturally.

Maybe, you have tried and failed. Perhaps you think you are just not very good at it. You might have had some poor experiences trying to learn what others describe as a joy-filled endeavor. I understand the frustrations and the fears. And the failures. I’ve been there.

Loving others is not about going through the proper motions or using the right techniques. It is not about being fully equipped or sufficiently trained.

I am not an expert on this matter, but I have heard and seen the Master of Love at His best. I watched him walk through life as the friend of the down, dirty, damaged, and demoralized.

I have witnessed how He loves me. Sometimes the river of life sweeps me gently along and sometimes the rapids come unexpectedly. I have experienced His love when I am down and out amidst the darkness of despair. I felt His love when my mind was imprisoned by stress and anxiety. I remember how He loved me through disappointment and grief.

What is the point of the hard times in this life journey? It is never the condition and circumstances of your canoe. It is the people along the way.

Jesus lives in you and me to lead us to others He intends to love through us. He will love them first and love them most.

Do you see them with their boat tipped over in the river of life? Do you notice their despair when their dreams get logjammed?

Their eyes show signs of suffering, sickness, sorrow, stress. They expose confusion, concern, loneliness, and despair. They weep; they laugh; they worry. They just need someone to care enough to listen, to comfort, to help, to pray.

I hope you will slow down your float trip to whatever destination awaits around the bend in the river. Every person you see is fighting some hard, and often hidden, battle. For many, their life is stuck or upside down.

Some are up the creek without a paddle. Others have lost their canoe.

Be kind. Be caring. Love them first and love them most. Little by little, love them a lot.

Loving others will cost you more than you expected. It might even be a little painful at times. Remain calm, stay afloat, and embrace the journey. Let your love flow like a river.

Loving one person first and most reveals a thrill beyond description. The heart pounds. The clouds rumble. The skies flash. The wind roars. The trees sway. The mountains shake. The stars dance. The angels set all heaven ablaze with shouts of praise…when one damaged ship-wrecked heart has been loved first and most.

Oh, the thrill! Now, back to that air mattress flotation fun!