Walking in swing
Adobe
Every morning before work, my wife Sheri and I lace up our shoes and head out for a walk together. It's become more than just a way to stay healthy—it's sacred time. Some days we talk about our plans, our worries or the kids. Other days, we just walk in silence, hand in hand, step by step.
Yesterday morning, something small—but kind of profound—happened.
As we walked, a swarm of gnats came out of nowhere. You know the kind that somehow aim straight for your eyeballs?
Naturally, we let go of each other's hands to swat and shield ourselves. Nothing major, just a moment of reacting. But here's what caught my attention: the moment we let go, our rhythm was off. Our steps no longer matched. It was subtle, but noticeable. Sheri's pace picked up a bit, I drifted slightly to the side. And for a few awkward seconds, we weren't walking with each other—we were just walking next to each other.
Then, without even thinking, we grabbed hands again. And just like that, our stride fell back into sync. It was like we had a built-in metronome, and holding hands brought it back into balance.
That moment stuck with me all day.
It reminded me of something I read in The Boys in the Boatby Daniel James Brown—a story set before World War II about a group of underdog rowers from the University of Washington. These weren't privileged athletes with fancy coaches and country club backgrounds. They were the sons of loggers, farmers, and shipyard workers. Many came from broken homes and barely scraped together tuition. They were ordinary young men who had known hardship, who worked with their hands, who carried the weight of their families' hopes. And yet, together, they did something extraordinary.
They were scrappy, determined, and trying to earn a shot at the Olympics. What I remember most wasn't the medals or the racing drama—it was a concept Brown describes so beautifully called swing.
In rowing, swing happens when every member of the crew rows in perfect harmony. Their oars hit the water at the same time, pull with the same power, and exit in perfect unison. It's not forced—it's almost spiritual. The boat starts to glide, faster than any one man could row it alone. And that's when the magic happens.
When Sheri and I are walking hand in hand, that's our swing. When the missionaries we work with are praying, serving, and loving in sync with the Lord and each other—that's Kingdom swing.
But let's be honest—ministry's full of bugs. Distractions. Stress. Personal agendas. Unexpected setbacks. It's easy to let go, to lose step with each other, and worse, with God. But if we can remember to reach out, to grab hold of one another and walk in step again, that's where the power lies.
Ecclesiastes 4:12 says, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."
That third strand? That's the Lord. That's what brings us into swing.
In missions, I've seen this firsthand. A team where everyone's paddling to their own rhythm might get the job done, but it's messy. Fatiguing. Frustrating. But when the group is connected to the Lord and to one another—when they're in swing—hope travels farther. Hearts are more open. And the joy? It's contagious.
So whether you're leading a mission team, raising kids, or just trying to walk faithfully with your spouse in the early hours of the day—grab hands. Find that rhythm. And invite the Lord to be the third strand in your walk.
Because when you're in swing with Him, you're stronger than any storm … or swarm of bugs.
 | Christopher Beth is the Founder, Chief Storyteller and Director of The Bucket Ministry, a nonprofit organization that works to provide the love of Jesus and clean water solutions to communities in need around the world. Learn More » |
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