Imagine being born a river trout. They spend their entire lives in the flowing currents, fighting every single second of every single day, just to not be swept out to sea by the never-ceasing tides. They always lose too - perhaps (like me) Mr. Trout oversleeps a bit or takes a quick breather and the next thing you know he's in foreign waters, miles away from his family. Even if he's a diligent, hard-working pisces all his life, the very moment he dies it's belly-up and down-river.
But does Mr. Trout have the right to complain? Does he have the grounds (or perhaps the currents in this case) to turn towards his Creator and say, 'Hey, what's the deal?! Why do I have to be stuck in this river? Why aren't I a sting ray that gets to lounge around the coral reef in the Caribbean, soaking up some sun and strutting my stuff? They have it so easy! Or what about a goldfish in a bowl? Sure it'd be small, but there are no currents. And I'd have my own castle!!'
It's probably a good thing God is God instead of me (don't worry, I don't think He's offering to trade any time soon, ever since that fiasco with Jim Carey). I'd probably look at that trout and laugh, thinking of all the malevolent things I could've made him instead. How about I leave you as a trout, but also give you some huge, drag-inducing fins? You'll be swept around by the smallest waves and ripples every day of your life! Or perhaps you'd like to be a mayfly instead? 24 hours from hatching to death. That is if you're not eaten by a hungry trout as an egg (Ohh.... irony), slapped by a slightly annoyed human you happened to land on, or maimed by the one you horribly mistook as your future mate. 'There are plenty of things worse than being a trout!' I'd say.
Seriously, I'm glad God is nothing like me. Because even in the midst of my complaints, He rarely, if ever, steps in just to point out how much worse things could be and then leaves, expecting me to be satisfied. No, He is infinitely more gentle, more patient, more kind than any sort of Jeromie-Deity could ever be.
Instead, He would point to Mr. Trout. 'Look at him.' he would say in His best Morgan Freeman (or Liam Neeson) voice. 'See how he sits in the water? The current is constantly flowing past him, always pushing, always pulling. But to us, it appears that Mr. Trout isn't working at all - he's just floating there, unmoved, unaffected. Is that not a beautiful thing, a graceful thing? That's something that I would like to teach you as well. You are right - the currents are strong, persistent. In life and in the river. And I will no more willingly take you out of your circumstances than I would this fish out of water.
But what I can do is to teach you, to help you train your muscles, to give you peace. Eventually you will be the same as the trout - firm, beautiful, graceful as you stand strong against the tide. You're right that it seems unfair - a life of constant battle to gain no ground where a day, an hour, a moment of neglect can sweep you away forever.
But your goal is not to make it upstream. Even if you could beat the tides, you'd run out of water eventually. Besides, I've already taken care of things at the source. You do not need to be crucified on the hill; I've already done that for you. I simply ask that you take up your cross daily, wherever you may be in the river. You are where you are for a reason, just like Mr. Trout. Perhaps one day he will feed a starving fisherman. Or maybe Mrs. Trout will find herself caught up in the battle in the same bend of the river. Or it's possible Mr. Trout will end up on a wall in the office of a pastor... Those things are for Me to know.
For you, keep swimming. That is enough.'
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