As I write this, I am looking out my condo window at the ocean. This morning, all is peaceful. The tide is low, many early morning types are strolling the beach, picking up sea shells or just loosening their joints. The sea looks harmless. Maybe I will go for a swim. After all, this is my last day here. Tomorrow, Dave and I begin our trek home to Kansas. From there we will drive to Florida where he has taken a job for the next 12 months.

But I won’t go for a swim. Not after last night’s phone call from my youngest son, Andy.

First, a little background. He and his brother Jeff take a trip every year, and since Andy is getting married in two weeks, this would be their final one together. They, along with their friend Chris, chose Belize.

According to Andy, mid-afternoon the three rented a kayak to use as a sort of landing pad when they snorkeled. Before long, they realized the current had carried them further from their starting point, so they attempted to head back. No matter how hard they rowed or swam, the shoreline became increasingly distant. For over an hour they tried… to no avail.

Realizing it soon would be dark, Jeff and Andy decided to swim to shore for help. Chris, although a national Rugby player, was not a good swimmer, so he would stay on the kayak and wait for help. After twenty minutes of struggling against the current, my sons realized the futility in their efforts and returned to the kayak. Occasionally they would see a boat in the distance and would yell for help, but no one heard their screams. They prayed. Their fun excursion was turning out to be anything but.

“Don’t panic.” “Remain calm.” “We rented this kayak, so someone has to know we haven’t returned and send help.” All great advice, but as night fell, they decided to make one last effort to make it to shore. Jeff threw his arm over the front of the kayak, Chris rowed, and Andy pushed from the end of the kayak, figuring their swim fins would help. They would go as long and as hard as they could…which lasted about fifteen minutes. Suddenly, a wave lifted them up and threw them onto a reef. Their goggles and one of the oars went flying as the kayak tipped, dumping them all onto the hard surface. Jeff’s leg was bleeding badly, and while they were tending to that, they noticed a boat’s light in the distance.

This time, their screams were heard. They were rescued and taken to shore where they were told that no kayak should have been rented that day. The tide was far too dangerous, and just the week before, two men dared the same type of current and never made it back. My sons and their friend had trusted a young man (wanting to make a few dollars) instead of investing a little time into Googling the sea condition for that day.

As a result, what started out looking harmless proved that accomplished athletes have no power compared to the ocean’s undercurrent. I told Andy that I hoped they realized how God had protected them that night. He assured me they did.

Many people I know have found that something “harmless” has led to their downfall. A tiny white lie. A bit of gossip. An angry word. A sneak peek at a porn site. A choice not to forgive. And suddenly, they are in over their heads in sin. They have depended on their own abilities to control those harmless temptations instead of taking the time–and making the effort– to find where their trust should be placed. Psalm 9:10 speaks to that perfect constant: “Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.”

Just ask Andy, Jeff and Chris.