So when does the scary stuff start?

I was talking to a close friend about my swim lessons tonight. He asked what my plans were for the first day of lessons tomorrow and I said, "Oh you know getting to know them, evaluating where they're at, letting them trust me...nothing too scary." He replied, "So when does the scary stuff start?". It caught me off guard. I've talked about how I've had to push kids past their limits a little so they can learn a new skill, but its always after the fact. And I never push unless I know that they can take it. So why did his question bother me? Why did it make me stop and not only think about my lessons, but about God. "God, when does the scary stuff start?". If you had just off-handedly heard me talking about how I was going to get to the scary stuff on Wednesday and Thursday so that they'll be a little uncomfortable it would seem like I am a malicious teacher that doesn't understand children, but that is just not the case! I push them like that because I've found when they come back on Monday for their last week of lessons, they have regressed a little because of their fear, but by Tuesday they surpass their previous skill level. I had to push them to reach their potential, I HAD to-I HAVE TO-make them uncomfortable so that they can be better swimmers-have confidence in themselves and their skills. I have to do this even when it breaks my heart to see the three year old crying when he comes up from going under water, or the look of dread when I tell the five year old he has to swim a little further from the step today, or even the look in a forty year old's eyes when I tell her its time to learn to float. But my process works because they trust me. They know that I am the teacher, I know more about swimming then they do, so they should trust me and know that I wouldn't do anything to hurt them. But none of this changes the fact that what I am asking them to do is scary.

Is this not the same thing that happens with me and God? He has to push me to reach my potential, He HAS TO make me uncomfortable so that I can be who He calls me to be. He has to do it even when it breaks His heart to see me crying when I had to change schools. He has to do it even when He can see the look of dread on my face when I hear another one of my grandparents is sick. He has to do it even when He can see the doubt in my eyes when I found out I had to battle depression. But His process works because I trust fully in Him. I know He is my teacher, my Healer. He knows more about me than I know about myself, so I should trust in Him and know He won't do anything to harm me. But none of this changes the fact that what He is asking me to do is scary.

Mine and God's story changes here. While in my lessons sometimes my faith in my students isn't enough, sometimes they are too scared and sometimes I don't have the means to help them, my God is big enough for all of my fears. He is all-knowing, full of compassion and grace and willing to sit on the step with me or swim into the deep. He will never leave me. He has a plan for me, a special lesson plan, not one to terrify me, but one to prosper me, to make me better, to give me an endless hope-one no one can take away-and to give me a future. A future free of my sadness, my fears and my insecurities. Lord, you are my Healer. You are MORE than enough for me. I trust in You.