Drifting

The leaf lazily fell into Falls Creek. It was in its autumn glory, streaked with gold doing what all leaves do in a creek, drifting with the current. Drifting downstream was easy. The current was doing all the work. All the leaf had to do was ride along enjoying the warm sun and cool water.

After a bit, the current quickened, but the leaf felt no alarm. It was so preoccupied with itself that it didn’t notice the somewhere-downstream sound of falling water. It wasn’t long before the creek narrowed, the ride became turbulent, and there were rocks to dodge. The somewhere-downstream sound of falling water became louder and louder, the rocks became boulders, and then it was too late, the leaf disappeared over the falls in a tumult of crashing-roaring water.

At its next sighting, the leaf was in the shadows below the falls, crumpled and water logged, wedged in a pile of other crumpled-water-logged leaves. Drifting seldom leads to anything good—for leaves or for people.

Most over-the-falls events in life are a result of drifting. We don’t get up one day and decide to jump off the falls; we drift with the current until….

We drift into debt.

We drift into an extra 20 or 50 pounds.

We drift into a dangerous relationship.

We drift into complacency, enjoying the warm sun and cool water, ignoring the somewhere-downstream sound of falling water.

We drift into obsolescence, hanging onto what got us here instead of reaching forward into the future.

We drift into a life without purpose, wondering when the mail will arrive so we can look at the ads.

We drift into _______________________________. (You fill in the blank.)

With respect to our faith, there is an apt warning in the Book of Hebrews (c2, v1): “…pay close attention…so you don’t drift away.”

It’s an apt warning for all of life, not just our relationship with God. Are you drifting with the current? Get on terra firma quickly, before it’s too late.

If this post was challenging to you, forward it to a friend.