Yoder: A Beaver Out of Water: Admitting We’re Lost

By Kathy Yoder

Recently, I was driving on a familiar stretch of Iowa road, one I’ve traveled many times over the years. Not much changes here—the occasional train rumbling by, forcing cars to pause briefly at the crossing. It’s predictable, never a surprise.

But what I saw around the last curve caught me off guard. Something I’d never encountered on this route or any other.

An animal was darting parallel to the railroad tracks, right in broad daylight. At first, I mistook it for a groundhog—I’ve spotted those around town plenty of times. But no, wrong color, wrong size, wrong build.

A closer look revealed the telltale tail: a beaver, a young one at that. His tail was lifted off the ground, flat as a board, paddle-like and perfectly parallel to the earth. This little guy was sprinting incredibly fast. I’ve never seen a beaver run before. I’ve always pictured them as waddlers, not athletes. But there was no waddle here. He didn’t have a sweatband on his head, but he might as well have—he dashed like he was competing in the Olympic race of his life.

I admit, I have a habit of humanizing animals. Yet as I watched, I was certain I recognized the look on his face: pure panic. He was disoriented, adrift, with no idea where he was headed. He just bolted with every ounce of strength, desperately hoping to stumble upon home.

He was miles from the nearest river. No other beavers in sight. He was navigating this vast world solo. It’s terrifying when landmarks vanish and you’re relying solely on your own power. Eventually, exhaustion sets in. You can’t keep sprinting forever.

Without help, you collapse.

There are so many people today who mirror that beaver—racing as fast as they can, directionless and without familiar signposts. They’re panicked, wandering without a clue where to turn. Maybe they lack family support, or perhaps their loved ones are just as adrift.

So they push harder, convinced they can outrun this gnawing unease of not knowing life’s purpose or what’s truly missing. Sometimes they sense the void but can’t identify it. This frantic search for direction reminds me of the rich young ruler in Matthew 19:16–30, who approached Jesus with urgency but missed the true path.

Like the beaver imagining, “If I run fast enough and long enough, I’ll find my way back,” the young ruler made three critical errors. First, he believed he could earn eternal life through his own efforts. We can’t sprint our way to Heaven—salvation isn’t something we achieve.

Second, he claimed he’d kept all the commandments, convinced of his own perfection. But he wasn’t willing to admit his flaws. We must acknowledge we’re sinners—lost—before we can be found.

Third, he failed to recognize who Jesus truly was. He addressed Him as “good teacher” but couldn’t make the leap to “great God,” the Savior of the world, his personal Redeemer.

When Jesus instructed him to sell everything and follow Him, the young ruler walked away saddened—he was too attached to his wealth. He was adrift and unaware of it, a sinner blind to his need, standing before the Son of God without seeing Him.

There are many like him today, clinging to worldly things and refusing to let go for eternal life. They keep dashing ahead, never finding home.

We all must admit we’re lost without the Lord to be found by Him. Unlike that little beaver, we can stop the frantic race. We can turn to Jesus, our unchanging landmark in a confusing world. He’ll guide us home. If you’re feeling that panic today, open your Bible to Matthew 19 and pray: “Lord, I’m adrift—show me the way.”

Kathy Yoder is a devotional writer and Christian author. She may be reached at kathyyoder4@gmail.com and Kathyyoder.com.