How sufficient is our God? Perhaps every Christian has wondered that sometime in their spiritual life. Many of us never explore the true limits of God's love, and hope we never have to. However, evidence of God's grace and capacity to care for us sometimes becomes clear when everything around us does its best to confound us.

For a number of years, my summers have revolved around water. I'm a professional educator, but I spend my summers as a lifeguard and managing the local municipal pool. A couple of summers ago, I also spent a good deal of time diving. First, my wife and I were going to Cozumel to celebrate our 25th anniversary where I would make several dives. I also became part of a scientific expedition to the Flower Garden/Stetson Banks National Marine Sanctuary off the coast of Texas. I teach science, so it sounded like the perfect way to get underwater while working within my field. The third trip was for my family and me to take a trip to Playa del Carmen in the late summer. I thought I was all set.

The first trip was wonderful. I got four good dives in, and although there was rain, it did nothing to dampen our spirits. With my skills sharpened, I made preparations for the science trip.

The workshop started out well. Eighteen educators and about six team leaders and divemasters gathered on the Gulf coast. We spent the first evening registering, getting acquainted, and learning about the program and the characteristics of the reef systems we would be visiting. Afterward, we carpooled to the hotel.

My roommate was a portly little guy named Greg from Louisiana. He was a fun, cheerful, likeable fellow and we chatted and explored the hotel amenities together.

The next day was spent in classes, learning to identify sea life and how to take a fish census taking techniques. Everyone was pumped up and ready to begin the dives the next day. We were told to choose our partners, keeping in mind who would be diving air, and who would be on Nitrox. Greg and I were both on air, so we naturally paired up. He made everyone smile by showing up wearing about a ton of Mardi Gras bead necklaces and proceeded to hand them out to all the members of the team. He told me the one he gave me was special. It had a grinning alligator on it, just like the one he kept for himself. He smilingly told me, "Partners are special. You watch my back and I'll watch yours!"

On Sunday night, we boarded the liveaboard and headed out. The first day, Greg and I made three dives together, but skipped one in the afternoon, due to weird sea conditions and ripping currents. The dives were spectacular, with a great variety of sea life including hammerhead sharks, rays and a huge number of fish and coral species. The currents were heavy down to about thirty feet, but dissipated along the bottom.

Greg and I were both ready to go on Tuesday morning's dive. Greg was chipper and happy. He said he was ready for a great day of diving. We all geared up for the 7:00 AM dive.

Greg and I were nearly the last pair to jump. He entered the water first and swam to the line strung from the stern to the mooring line. I hit the water and swam immediately to him, face down. Immediately upon lifting my head, I knew there was trouble. Greg had spit out his regulator and was calling for help. He said he couldn't breath. I signaled to the boat "trouble", and immediately did the standard routine. I got behind him, hoisting him backward and lifting him with my knee. Waves were washing all the way over us, and I could hear him burble as a particularly high wave topped us. I recovered his regulator and fed it to him, talking to him as I did so. I told him to relax and that we were going to be okay.

He took several rapid breaths as I found his inflator and made sure he was buoyant. I tried to find his weight belt buckle, but couldn't in the tangle of gear on his harness. I decided not to waste any more time and told him we were headed for the boat. Together, we pulled at the line with me in the towing position.

About fifteen feet along the rope, there was a float attached to it with about four feet of line. I impacted the line and it tangled on my first stage and dislodged my mask, flooding it. That forced me to make a tough decision. I could either let Greg go to make his way, or I could hold onto him while I untangled myself. Since he was pulling himself along, I thought it would be more confusing to stop him, so reluctantly, I let him go. It took a few seconds for me to get loose and clear the mask.

By the time I could see again, Greg had pulled himself along the line, and he was about fifteen feet away. I caught up to him. By that time one of the divemasters was in the water, and together we all made our way to the taglines attached to the ladders at the stern of the boat, which was heaving in the three to six foot swells, with the occasional larger wave.

We had Greg about halfway up the ladder when one of those big waves hit. It swept Greg off the ladder and he slid right past me. I made a desperate lunge and caught his harness, but the swell knocked me off the tag line, too. I knew that in another moment we'd be pushed too far away from the boat in the current.
I leaned into the current and kicked harder than I've ever kicked in my life. I saw a divemaster on the bottom of the ladder extending his hand and I reached as far as I could. He grabbed my hand and we hauled Greg back to the ladder. The divemasters grabbed him by his harness and heaved him up. Greg was facing outward, toward me. I could see his eyes were open and staring, his expression fixed.

I think he was already dead.

I went for the other ladder, took my fins off and looped them on my wrists and climbed aboard. I was nearly totally spent. I fell on my hands and knees on the dive deck, trying desperately to catch my breath. I don't know how long it was before I was able to shrug out of my gear. I remember someone helping me remove my weight belt. I crawled over to where the captain and crewmembers were performing CPR on Greg. I don't know how long we did CPR, but presently the captain said we should carry Greg onto the sundeck. Other divers would be coming up, and he didn't want anyone to panic.

On the sun deck, we took turns continuing CPR for over an hour. One of the divers was a doctor, and he was in contact with the Coast Guard by satellite phone. There was never any sign of response from Greg so, finally, the CG flight surgeon pronounced the time of death, and we stopped CPR.

It sounds like it took a long time, but I checked my computer later and found that we were in the water less then two and a half minutes. The doctor on board said that every sign pointed toward a massive coronary as the cause of death, and there was absolutely nothing that anyone could have done to detect it before the dive.


Of course, everyone on the boat was devastated. I was numb for a time, I think. On that long trip back to shore, with Greg covered by a tarp on the sun deck, it was hard to get a grip on what had happened. Finally, one of the other members of the science team, a lady named Kim, approached me as I sat in the tiny salon/galley. Together we talked about the tragedy, and I was surprised, yet very relieved, when she asked me if I would like to pray with her. So we prayed for Greg's family and friends, and we prayed for ourselves as well, for we all knew how hard it was going to be to get over something like this.

Except I knew nothing at all about how hard it would be. In the days that followed, I started to find out. I couldn't ever put the events out there in the Gulf of Mexico completely out of my mind. Every time I went to bed, it was the last thing I thought about. When I awoke, it was still there. Worse, I began to have nightmares about that horrible dive. I was a professional lifeguard. I was trained to save lives. yet my best efforts hadn't been enough to save Greg. Over and over again I asked God to help me cope with the guilt and the fear and the uncertainty, but nothing helped.
 Slowly, I stopped talking. I couldn't confide in my most loved family members. I couldn't sleep, so I started staying up until very late. Nothing I did was fun or satisfying, but I thought it would be just a matter of time before I got over it.

Finally, my family and I went on our scheduled trip to Playa del Carmen. I thought it would be just what I needed to put the events out in the Gulf behind me. But the night before we left was still filled with terrible nightmares. Even at the resort, I couldn't seem to relax. I simply could not find peace.

My family and I were attempting to do just that--relax--around the pool while we waited for the evening buffet to open. I don't know exactly what it was that caught my attention at first, but I noticed something wrong. A man, one of the guests at the resort, was in the pool near the far side. Something about his expression wasn't right. Then we all saw what it was. He stood in about four feet of water. In his arms was the completely limp body of a young, dark-haired little girl, perhaps five years old.

I was in the air before I knew I had even left my lounge chair. The man deposited the little girl on the bank, but he ran off to try to find help, since there was no assigned lifeguard at the pool. I came up out of the water and immediately checked the girl. Her eyes were partially open and staring--she wasn't breathing.

"Oh, God! Please, no! Not again!" I mentally screamed. I rolled her on her stomach and drained her airway, then put her back on her back. A woman rushed up and announced that she was a nurse. Together we checked the girl's vitals, and I straightened her airway and gave her two quick breaths. While I waited the seconds required to check for a return breath, I felt her corotid. There was a weak pulse. Just then the beach lifeguard rushed up, and he immediately gave her another breath. In moments, the girl coughed and began to cry.

It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

I made my way back to my family. The little girl was bundled off in the arms of her mother to a medic station, and the poolside returned to normal. All evening long, though, I thought about the events and what they must mean. I couldn't make sense out of it at all.

At least not until the next day. It was such a subtle change that at first I didn't notice it or make the connection, but finally, it broke through to me.

The nightmares had stopped. Indeed, for the first time in many days, I was able to relax without thinking of Greg and the tragedy. Finally, it started to become clear.

What I came to realize was this. That little girl would have been all right without me there. Sure, I was the first to reach her, but there were others. The nurse knew what to do, and there were other volunteers, and of course the resort lifeguard was only moments away. I wasn't really needed. But then, it wasn't the little girl who needed me to be there. It was ME who needed to be saved. I was in pain-spiritual pain, and God knew that. I'm not saying He put that little girl in harm's way for my benefit, but I do believe He put me there at that moment so that I could be healed and given peace. It finally hit me. God IS in control. He is the one who makes all things right, and He knows our needs before we do. God is good.

2 Corinthians 12:9

Yes, God IS sufficient for our every need, and He listens and answers our prayers with mercy, compassion, and infinite wisdom.