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The other day, in my devotional time, I read this verse: “Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” Jonah 2:8

As I began meditating on that verse, the very first thing that came to mind (deep spiritual stuff), was that Jonah was a Cling-on. Before Star Trek, Captain Kirk, the guy with the elf ears—what was his name? Dr. Speck . . . Spunk . . . something like that—there was Jonah, the Cling-on. In the midst of his all-expense paid, limo ride in the big fish that every fisherman would love to have mounted on the wall, Jonah came to realize that he was clinging on to stuff that was causing him to miss God’s best. He was a cling-on. And you and I are no different. Star Trek fan or not (and just for the record, I’m not), we cling to stuff that plunges us to the depths of heartache, discouragement, and emptiness, keeping us from experiencing the freedom that is found living in God’s grace.

When I was younger, my family and I, along with some friends of ours who had a boat, went to a local lake to do some water skiing. It just so happened that I had never water skied before—that would soon change. After those who had skied until their hearts were content and their fingers were prune-like, my dad said, “Ok Shawn, you’re up.” I’m up? What does he mean, “I’m up”? Was it like, your time on earth is up now that you’re about to attempt water skiing? Nonetheless, I wasn’t going to let dying keep me from water skiing, so I jumped in the lake with my life jacket securely fastened, my swimsuit tightly tied (that’s important), and my heart racing like a rabbit being chased by Elmer Fudd.

All the instructions were given to me: keep your ski tips up; bend your knees; let the boat pull you up; say your prayers. You know, stuff like that. But no one, not one person, told me the all important thing: DON’T FORGET TO LET GO OF THE ROPE WHEN YOU FALL. Note to all you “ski instructors,” that’s an important rule.

My knees were shaking, my ski tips were up, and my swimsuit was tied so tightly it nearly cut off my circulation. I figured if I went down, at least my swimsuit wouldn’t. The roar of the boat engine suddenly broke the silence on the lake; the water churned (as did my stomach); the rope tightened; my body was swerving coming up out of the water; and as soon as I broke the surface of the water, I went down. But because I didn’t know the rule, I held on to the rope.

I went like a human torpedo through the lake that day, clinging to that rope for dear life because letting go just didn’t seem like an option. I was hitting fish left and right. Turtles were watching in amazement, and laughing. Sea weed (or I guess lake weed), slapping me in the face like I was speeding through a car wash. Then something inside me urged me, begged me, threatened me, to let go. Perhaps it was my guardian angel, who wasn’t equipped with scuba gear, I don’t know. Nonetheless, I let go. And when I did, I was free. Free to breath again. Free to get in the boat. Free from an unpleasant underwater adventure.

Maybe you’re clinging to something that is taking you down into the depths of disobedience. You don’t have to hang on to the stuff that drags you down. God is urging you to let go, and trust Him with your life. And when you do trust Him, there is much grace offered to you. But the truth is, you can’t experience it when you’re clinging on to the rope of bitterness, anger, greed, lust, envy. From one soul skier who’s held the rope, to another—let go.