River Prayer

I’ll share with you a little story from this weekend that I really think is a turning point in my life, particularly regarding prayer:
My friend Jen (there are four of us in our church group as of today's count) and I were in a two-person kayak (ducky) happily floating down the freezing, cold Nantahala river. We were doing pretty well with Jen in the driver’s seat and myself playing the part of the rudder. Like I said, the water was so very cold, and I started getting cramps in my calves, which I complained mildly of for most of the trip. We got stuck in between two rocks at one point, and we managed to shift our collective weight to the front of the boat and rock ourselves out of the jam. Within minutes of that ordeal, we found ourselves stuck on top of some rocks a little ways down the river. What we had come up with as a solution the first time worked so well, I thought I’d try it again. This time when I tried to step over to Jen’s side of the boat, my leg cramped in the Mother of All Charlie Horses! I was writhing in pain and had a hard time deciding which was worse, the pain, or the fact that we were stuck. Being stuck turned out to be a blessing, because Jen could then stand up in the boat and pull on my leg to help release the cramp, which, by this time, had me screaming in pain. (It's really too bad that the river photographer didn't get a shot of what had to be hilarious looking.) We had successfully gotten off of that rock, when our friend Chip came floating by. While we were communicating what had happened to Chip, Jen and I got wedged against another rock, the river began to fill the side of the boat, and it turned us out. We were both swimming and trying desperately to turn over into the “white-water swimming position” with our feet downstream. Neither of us could accomplish this because of the amount of rocks all around us and the rushing, and did I mention, cold, water. Both of us got to a place where we could stop and stand or crouch (not recommended by the rafting guides, by the way). Jen had lost her paddle, but she still had a hold of the boat. She feared turning the boat right side up, because she thought it would push her over. I looked at her, and she looked at me, and we both were clearly panicked. (I felt somewhat responsible as the person my friend was looking to as the more experienced party, but I had not had anything remotely like this ever happen before.)

I crouched there in the cold water and said audibly,but probably not loud enough for Jen to hear over the rushing rapids, “I don’t know what to do!” Then, in a very uncharacteristic move for me, I prayed out loudly, “God, show us what to do!” I never really think to pray in the midst of panic or pain. But, for some reason, this time, I did. Just afterward, Jen was able to get the boat over to me, and I could hold it while she got in. I got in, and we floated down with just my paddle to steer with through the biggest rapid on the river. We lived. Jen has some pretty nasty bruises, and I have a few scrapes to show for the effort. The amazing thing to me was that I had just recently prayed that God would remind me to turn to Him in prayer in the moment of need, and He did! If it had been the regular me there, I would have cussed or freaked out or tried some asinine thing to try and work my way out of the situation.

Anyway, this is what I learned about prayer this weekend: That even in the midst of trial and tribulation, God is there, He is listening, and He will even gently remind me that I can’t do anything without Him.