I'm Drowning In The Water You're Walking On

I’m not one to get easily frustrated—most of the time. While I’m a passionate individual, I try to keep a level head and approach situations or conflict with an open mind, but sometimes I fail. This might be one of those times.

Have you ever heard words spoken that spark completely unrelated thoughts?

My daughter and I were listening to music the other day, and the following lyrics poured from the speakers and filled the room, “I’m drowning in the water you’re walking on.” The song is about a relationship that is falling apart, where one individual is a bit entitled and takes advantage of the other while elevating themselves to an undeserved pedestal (at least that’s my interpretation). But those words sparked some good conversation about an entirely different topic. My daughter and I explored other situations where this phrase might fit and our thoughts turned to religion— more specifically, humanity's propensity to use an infinitely big God to further our smallness by making us look more important than we are.

I’m tired of scripture being used to tout diseased thinking like prosperity gospel, or perpetuate ideas like “if you prayed a little more you would be healed, if you had more faith you would be healed, if you just run through a fire tunnel (this an actual present-day practice) you will be empowered or healed.

There seems to be a host of people touting flawed theology that results in empty promises made by a god who doesn’t exist because it’s a god the church created as opposed to the church God intended.

And as a result, people are drowning.

So many are so desperate for a god they can manipulate, a checklist they can complete, a list of rules to follow, and a bunch of, dare I say “pagan ritual BS”, that makes things feel more “spiritual”; that they fall hook, line, and sinker for lies closely resembling the truth.

I have seen people wounded by such theology, children born with a disability or lifelong disease, people plagued with cancer, men and women fighting to survive in the face of a host of ailments, and they’re all people filled with a faith that rivals any other person I have met— and yet someone has the arrogance, audacity, and insensitivity to suggest things like, “they must not have as much faith as they say they do”, or “their parents must have sinned.”

Any time people say such things, whenever such theology is taught, so much damage is done because people are drowning while others walk on water. God is a God of love over all other things, a God who has given my best friend the strength, grace, and dignity to endure a disease that will take his life, and he does so without fear—that’s so much more powerful than a physical healing.

When our faith elevates us to a position over others because we believe more, we pray more, we jump through more hoops, or we see ourselves as modern-day prophets—we need to find lifejackets because all we're doing is treading water.