I love to swim. Now that my training for the 2010 triathlon season has begun, I’ve had cause and motivation to brave those first few cold minutes in the pool in favor of swimming some laps.  There’s something about being enclosed in the water, isolated even from the other swimmers for the most part, that is soothing to me.  With the rhythm of my kick, my arms, and my breathing, my brain begins to get into rhythm, too. And I think about all sorts of things.

During my last swimming workout, I was thinking about penguins. Don’t ask me why these things happen – they just do.  And I began to consider that I have a few things in common with them.  Penguins on land are awkward and slow, waddling along with short stubby legs over a round belly.  It’s comical really. That’s certainly how I feel when I’m running.  I’m apparently not built in such a way that running comes naturally or gracefully to me.  Neither a penguin nor I will ever break a land-speed record – we are far more likely to break our noses tripping over ourselves.

But get us in the water, and we fly!

Have you ever seen underwater footage of penguins? (if you haven’t, check this out!)  Under the surface, they are immediately transformed into speedsters, trailing bubbles behind them in trails of glorious grace. They dart and twist and dance in the water in a way that’s never possible for them on land, catching enough fish to keep them full for their time back on land.  I feel that way a bit when I swim, too.  I’m much faster and more competent in the water than on land when it comes to athletics.  I cruise through my laps, my body cutting through the water with relative ease and grace. Eat my bubbles!

And then it occurred to me.  As a believer, I have a lot in common with penguins, too.  Like them, I am a creature living in two worlds at the same time – one that is awkward and cumbersome for me, and one where I fly.  In the world I was born into, I am clumsy and graceless, but in the refreshing water of the Holy Spirit, I have grace and amazing acrobatic abilities.  On land, I am slow and vulnerable to predators.  In the water, there is protection and means of escape.  On land, I will starve to death – but there is sustenance for me in the water.

There are some people who are afraid of the water, though.  They’ve never learned to swim.  They’re afraid they’ll drown – lose themselves in the deep.  And there are those who will do no more than dip their toes in the edge, not wanting to mess up their hair and make-up so they can maintain the right image on land. The water is too messy, too uncomfortable.  It makes me sad.  Don’t they know that they were made to swim? Don’t they realize that they are starving to death? Don’t they understand that if they’re willing to take the plunge, the Spirit will teach them to fly?

I wish sometimes that I was made to live in the water all of the time. But that’s not the way things are for me, or  for the penguin, either.  Our bodies demand and pull us back to the land. We are creatures divided between the land and sea. We can’t submerge ourselves forever no matter how much we long to – the bodies we were born with won’t survive in the ocean. But if we don’t make our homes near the water – stay in it as much as we can – we will starve and die.

Someday I will get a new body that will let me live in the water of the Spirit all of the time.  I can hardly wait.  I’m so ready to shed this clumsy flesh that trips me up and even embarrasses me at times.  Someday I will fly into that water and never have to set foot on land again.  And what a joy that will be!

For now, I’ll just swim my laps when I can, working on my rhythm and my strength to pull me through the water a little faster every time.  I’ll dive into the Spirit every chance I get, too.  The more time I spend there, the more grace, safety, and food for my spirit that I will find.  Come on in with me – the water is fine!  Dive deep and be enveloped in God’s all-encompassing love.  Find food for your soul that will keep you healthy and full for those times that you have to be on land.  Come spin and dance in the deep end with me while we can. And someday, we’ll fly away forever, never finding ourselves clambering on the shore again.