Are You Thriving or Drifting?

Not long before graduation, I joined a group of college friends at a lake house on the North Carolina coast. The centerpiece of the weekend was a sleek two-person sailboat tied up on the shore. Seasoned sailors among us zipped up and down the cove with ease, while the rest of us watched, intrigued and a little envious.

Eventually, it was my turn. A friend and I, both first-timers, climbed aboard. With more ambition than ability, we wrestled with the ropes and leaned against the wind and barely moved. Frustrated and exhausted, we pulled the boat back to shore, untied it, and went inside for dinner, assuming it would still be there in the morning.

It wasn’t.

By dawn, the tide had risen and the sailboat had quietly drifted away. We hadn't anchored it. Panic set in. We searched the shoreline, borrowed a motorboat, and began a frantic hunt. Hours passed with no sign of the expensive vessel. I began calculating how long it would take me to repay a small fortune on a college student’s budget.

Amazingly, the boat was found a mile down the cove, undamaged. It had drifted silently, unnoticed, but relentlessly. That experience etched a powerful lesson in my mind: boats don’t stay where you leave them not without an anchor.

How’s Your Soul Sailing?

Years later, I read a spiritual diagnostic from author Tim Keller that brought this old memory rushing back. He offered a simple but vivid metaphor. Your soul is a boat. It has both oars and a sail. Now ask yourself are you sailing, rowing, drifting, or sinking?

It’s a question that pierces. Our spiritual lives are constantly in motion, even if we’re unaware of it. We're never truly static. Keller’s metaphor forces a reckoning. Am I still pressing toward God? Or have I started to drift away? Is my joy deepening? Or is my faith taking on water?

This metaphor also helps us understand others more compassionately. It’s a gentle but insightful way to ask someone how they’re really doing. And Scripture especially the Psalms gives voice to each stage.

1. Sailing: Joy-Filled, Spirit-Carried Faith

When the wind is at your back and the Spirit is breathing life into every prayer and Scripture reading, you're sailing. God's Word feels alive. Worship overflows naturally. You look forward to church with eager anticipation. Conversations about Christ come easily. This is not hype it’s genuine spiritual momentum.

David captures this season in Psalm 16:

“The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
I have set the Lord always before me;
because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.”
(Psalm 16:6, 8)

Sailing seasons don’t happen all the time but when they do, they are deeply refreshing. If you're sailing, give thanks. Ask God to deepen your roots while the breeze is strong.

2. Rowing: Steady but Struggling

Many Christians find themselves here: the spiritual life is still moving forward, but it’s hard work. Prayer feels like a discipline, not a delight. Scripture reading is steady but dry. Church attendance remains a priority, but the joy isn’t what it used to be.

Psalm 63 echoes the voice of a rower:

“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”
(Psalm 63:1)

If you're rowing, you're doing something right. You're not coasting or quitting you're persevering. But don’t stay here indefinitely. Ask the Lord to revive you, and invite others to pray with you and for you. Keep pulling, even when the skies are gray.

3. Drifting: Slow Disengagement

From the shore, a drifting boat can look similar to one that’s rowing. But there's a crucial difference: effort. Drifting begins when we stop trying. Prayer wanes. Bible reading becomes rare. We start skipping church here and there, then more often. We don’t feel like we’ve turned away from God but we’re not actively moving toward Him either.

Psalm 42 captures the spiritual disorientation of drifting:

“These things I remember, as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession
to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise.
Why are you cast down, O my soul?”
(Psalm 42:4–5)

The danger of drifting is how subtle it is. Like that untied sailboat on the cove, we rarely notice the movement until we’re far from where we began. If you’re drifting, don’t wait for a storm to wake you up. Drop anchor in God’s Word. Reach out to faithful believers. Realign your course now.

4. Sinking: Quiet Despair

Some believers aren’t just drifting they’re sinking. The spiritual life has been hit by a storm maybe a devastating loss, a betrayal, a prolonged illness, or a crisis of faith. The boat is taking on water. You’ve stopped praying altogether. Doubt feels heavier than hope. God feels distant, even cruel. You wonder if He was ever close.

Psalm 73 gives voice to this condition:

“All in vain have I kept my heart clean
and washed my hands in innocence. . . .
When my soul was embittered,
when I was pricked in heart,
I was brutish and ignorant;
I was like a beast toward you.”
(Psalm 73:13, 21–22)

Sinking is dangerous but it’s not hopeless. God meets us in the lowest places. If you're sinking, don’t go down in silence. Cry out. Even if all you can say is “Help,” God hears. Reach for others. Many have walked through the waters you’re in and made it out.

No One Sails Alone

One of the most overlooked truths in this metaphor is this: people who sail rarely sail alone. Most who drift or sink do so in isolation. When my friend and I lost that sailboat, we were at least smart enough to go out together. That, more than anything else, saved us from disaster.

So if you’re rowing row with someone. If you’re sailing bring someone along. If you’re drifting or sinking let someone know. We were not meant to do the Christian life in isolation. As Hebrews 10:24–25 reminds us, we need to “consider how to stir up one another to love and good works…encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”

And here’s the hope in all of this: whether you are sailing or sinking, rowing or drifting, the Captain is still on board. Jesus hasn’t abandoned the vessel. He still calms storms, still walks on waves, still rescues the drowning.

So, take a moment today and ask yourself: Which boat am I in? And then don’t stop there tell someone. Chart a course back to joy. And set your eyes again on the horizon, where the wind of the Spirit is already waiting to carry you.

Enjoyed this reflection? Share it with a friend or subscribe to our newsletter for more stories and studies sent directly to your inbox.