Drifting into Trust and Freedom! Letting Go of the Oars!

Drifting into Trust: A Conversation with Jesus on the River

The raft floated serenely down the tranquil river, gently guided by the current. Towering trees formed a protective canopy over the water, their leafy branches creating a soothing play of light and shadow on the surface. I reclined against the cushions, basking in the sun's warmth on my face and the refreshing mist of the river. Across from me, Jesus sat in peaceful contemplation; His serene smile was comforting.

The river before us was a breathtaking ribbon of water that sparkled in the sunlight, a sight that filled us with awe and wonder.

The sun, a warm caress on my face, the sky an endless canvas of blue, and the gentle rhythm of the raft beneath me, a soothing lullaby.

The scent of the river, a mix of earthy dampness and fresh wildflowers, filled my nostrils, adding to the hypnotic effect. 

The gentle current effortlessly carried us downstream, and we wandered through a valley of towering trees and multicolored wildflowers that leaned over the banks like curious spectators.

I went near the edge, watching ripples spread outward from my fingertips as they skimmed the cool water. Jesus lounged across from me, looking thoroughly at ease. His sandals were off, and His feet dangled lazily over the side. The current was steady and unhurried, carrying us through a quiet stretch of wilderness where the trees whispered secrets to one another in the breeze.

"This," I said, stretching my arms wide, "is what peace feels like."

He chuckled softly. "It is, isn't it? No paddling, no striving—just letting the river carry you."

I turned my head to look at Him. "You make it sound so simple. But You know me—I'm a paddler. I'm always trying to steer, always working to make sure I'm doing enough, being enough. It's exhausting."

His gaze met mine, steady and kind. "And who told you you had to paddle to earn the river's trust?"

I frowned, sitting up slightly. "I don't know. Maybe it's just… life? Everything feels like it's about proving myself—to others, myself, and You."

Jesus leaned forward, resting His elbows on His knees. "Let Me tell you something. The river doesn't need you to paddle for it to flow. It moves because it was created to move. And you? You're in this raft because I invited you to rest, not to perform."

I sighed, the weight of His words sinking in. "But what if I stop paddling, and we drift somewhere we're not supposed to go? What if I let go and everything falls apart?"

He smiled gently. "Do you trust the river? Do you trust Me to get us where we are going?"

Even though His words instilled a sense of security and trust in His guidance, I hesitated, glancing at the water. It was calm and steady, winding its way through the forest as if it had a destination.

"I want to. But trusting means giving up control. And control… feels safer."

"Ah," He said, leaning back, "but is it really? Or is it just familiar?"

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. He had a point.

Jesus gestured to the water. "You see, I Am the river. I know where I'm taking you. And it's not about you earning your way downstream or proving you're worthy of the journey. It's about surrender—letting Me carry you, trusting I've got this. The river, like Me, has a purpose and a destination. Just as the river flows naturally, so does My plan for you. It's not about earning your way or proving your worth; it's about trusting in My plan and letting Me guide you."

I hugged my knees to my chest. "But isn't it good to have good intentions? To try to be better? To want to please You?"

"Of course," He said, nodding. "But good intentions can become heavy masks if rooted in fear. Pretending to have it all together, trying to prove your worth—it's not what I want for you. I want you, the real you, without the masks, without the striving."

I blinked, caught off guard. "I mean… pleasing You? Isn't that the whole point? Doing good, following Your commands, living a life that makes You proud?" 

He shook His head gently, the raft rocking slightly with the movement. "No. The point is a relationship, not performance. I'm not keeping scores or handing out grades. What I desire most is your heart—your trust."

"But doesn't trusting You also mean obeying You?" I countered. "I don't want to get it wrong."

Jesus smiled, dipping His hand into the water. "Obedience flows out of trust, not fear of failure.

When you trust Me, you'll naturally want to live in a way that reflects that trust. But if you're striving to please Me because you're afraid of falling short, then you've missed the beauty of grace."

I sat back, staring at the water as the raft glided along.

"So, you're saying I don't have to try so hard? You're not up there tallying up my good deeds versus my mistakes?" "Exactly," He said, leaning forward. "You can stop paddling against the current, trying to earn something I've already freely given you. My love for you isn't conditional—it's constant, unchanging.

Pleasing Me comes naturally when you rest in that truth. Pleasing Me comes naturally when you trust Me."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "But what if the real me isn't good enough?"

He reached across the raft and took my hand, His touch was warm and reassuring. "The real you is exactly who I love. You're not on this journey because you've earned it. You're here because you're Mine. And I see you—all of you—and I delight in you. Trust in my love for you, my plan for you, and our journey together. That's what I want from you. The real you is the One I created. And you'll only feel truly loved once you let yourself be seen. Masks might impress people, but they can't build a connection. You weren't made to live behind a mask—you were made to live in freedom."

His words filled me with acceptance, like a warm embrace from a loved one.

I leaned back, exhaling deeply. "Freedom sounds nice. But it also sounds… scary."

"It is," He said with a wink. "At first. But when you stop pretending, you'll find that the people who matter—those I've placed in your life—will love you for who you are. And those who don't? They were never meant to hold your heart."

I let His words wash over me like the river lapping at the raft's sides. "So, you're saying I can stop pleasing? Stop trying so hard?"

"Exactly," He said, a smile breaking across His face.

"Take off the mask. Be free to be who I created you to be. When you stop striving, you'll find that you're not just floating but flowing. And the river will take you where you're meant to go. Trust in Me, surrender to My plan, and let go of the need to prove yourself. That's when you'll genuinely flow in the direction I've set for you."

I leaned back again, feeling a lightness I hadn't felt in years. "But what if I mess up? What if I drift off course?"

Jesus laughed, the sound was rich and full of joy. "You think I can't handle a little detour? Trust Me, I'll be there no matter where the current takes you. You're not alone on this raft."

I looked up at Him, my heart full and eyes stinging with tears. "So, I just… let go?"

"You let go of the pressure to perform," He said. "You let go of the fear that you're not enough. And you let Me carry you. Trusting Me doesn't mean doing nothing—it means moving with Me, not striving against Me. You don't have to try at all," He said. "You just have to trust. Trust that My love is enough. Trust that I'm enough. And trust that you, just as you are, are enough."

I wiped my eyes and smiled, feeling the weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying begin to lift.

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is," He said with a wink. "You're the one who likes to make it complicated."

We both laughed, the sound mingling with the chatter of birds overhead. The river widened as we rounded a bend, the horizon revealing a stunning view of mountains.

I smiled, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my face. "Okay," I said softly. "I'll try. I'll stop paddling. I'll trust the river. I will trust You."

"Good," He said, leaning back and folding His hands behind His head. Now, sit back and enjoy the ride. You were made to flow, not fight."

As I rested, I realized that trusting Him didn’t mean doing nothing—it meant releasing the need to perform, to prove, to control. It meant leaning into His love, confident that wherever this river led, He would be there, guiding me every step of the way.

“Okay,” I said finally, my voice soft but steady. “I’m letting go of the oars.”

Jesus smiled, leaning back against the blankets again. “Now you’re getting it.”

And as the raft floated on, carried by the steady current, I felt the tension in my heart begin to unwind.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't worried about steering, pleasing, or proving anything.

I was just… here with Him. There is no need to establish or perform—just the freedom to trust the river and the One who guides it.