“And they went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and the raging waves, and they ceased, and there was a calm.” – Luke 8:24-25 {ESV}
The weather has been a little disappointing for me lately. Saturday and Sunday being the exception last week, Georgia has been immersed in a shroud of wet gray for most of the Spring. This is typically my favorite time of the year and I fancy myself quite entitled to some cool winds, some comforting sunshine and temperatures hovering in the low 70’s. The recent reality is that we’ve been pounded with thunderstorms, provided temperatures in the 40’s and held captive by the elements. Coming into work today I heard that the afternoon will be as I desire (sunny and slightly warm) while this evening…major storms are to be rolling in once again.
Watching world events over the last month could leave us a little disheartened. Devastation engulfed Japan on March 11th. Egypt, Libya, Syria and Bahrain have experienced major social meltdowns with chaotic violence and injustice. Here in the U.S. we’ve now grown accustomed to a constant sense of financial, political and social unrest. It just seems to me that when I look horizontally from east to west across this planet that I find nothing which lends itself to a tranquil state of mind. This, frankly, is quite the messed up little planet we’ve got going on. It’s as unpredictable and uncontrollable as the springtime weather in Georgia.
Perhaps instead of spending any more time looking horizontally we should reorient our focus vertically.
In the verses above, the disciples were convinced that their ship would sink. These were not a group of limp-wristed sissies out on the Sea of Galilee that day. Sitting in the boat were seasoned fishermen who had encountered their fair share of stormy waters. However nothing had quite prepared them for this particular day when the heights of the waves were unprecedented and the strength of the winds overwhelming. The little boat was no match for the storm and they had exhausted all human means in hope of surviving the tempest. It appeared to all that this would be their final storm and that reaching the sure footing of the shoreline was nothing but fantasy. Incidentally, this would not be the last group of God’s children who would assume that they were destined to sink. I’ve written my own eulogy a time or two and so have some of you. Do you know what made the storm all the more maddening?
Jesus was snoozing in the back of the boat.
C’mon, admit it…you’ve wondered recently why He hasn’t awakened to your need in this present hour. Living in a microcosm of the perfect storm, we easily grow weary of the howling winds and unforgiving rain. Our ship is sure to sink and our Savior sleeps on! Another day of unacknowledged prayers, unchanged circumstances and unopened doors finds us. Our bodies aren’t healed, our finances aren’t improved, our besetting sins aren’t mastered. Jesus seems to us to be utterly unmoved by our pitiful plight and we are exhausted as we scramble to bail out the water more quickly than it is filling our submerging ship. Finally, when He deems it appropriate, He rises to our defense and rebukes all that has threatened us and there results a great calm. Safety has been procured – the voyage will continue! Angry waves become accommodating harbors and all manner of inner tranquility is now ours to enjoy. But have we truly experienced victory?
I would submit that the ultimate victory lies not in the subsiding of our tsunami but, rather, in our potential to lie calmly next to Jesus in the storm and enjoy the sleep of trusting calm while the winds continue their howling. The more dangerous storm is not outside of us but raging in our soul. Why do doubt’s winds regularly pound our boat? Why do sheets of worry constantly cascade upon us like mighty rain? What is it about the rising and falling waves of anxiety and fear that keeps us from enjoying His tranquility in the tempest? Perhaps the more perplexing question to be answered revolves around how in the world the Savior doesn’t just get out of our boat, wearied with our panicky distrust, and walk on the waves to some other ship which is manned with a crew of saints who have learned to trust Him. The Master of the Sea receives immediate obedience from the forces of nature but it is true to admit that we have not all progressed that far as of yet.
Here’s my final thought: He’s got it. He’s working in your storm today. His ears of omniscience have not become deaf to your precious cries. His arms of omnipotence have not been broken in your hour of need. His unfathomable omnipresence assures you that He is not merely near you, but IN you. Perhaps the resolution to your dilemma is going more slowly than you hoped because you failed to realize that He’s diligently working on two simultaneous fronts: the storm outside of you and the other storm within. Quite frankly I believe we are in error when we quickly assume that the pressures and poundings we experience are all rooted in something bad. It needs to occur to us that the destructive powers of distrust and doubt are always churning within and that the only way they fall to a calm is when the Lord Jesus allows a storm on the outside to blow holes in our ship and let the inner storm leak out. Your latest trial of faith is yet another means by which God siphons out the saltwater from your soul. There’s a reason He hasn’t arisen yet. I would recommend that you keep calling to Him but all the bailing of water is going to exhaust you. If you calm down you may find that He has provided accommodations for you to join Him in some much needed rest for the soul. If you haven’t considered that as an option, give it a try today. It’s got to be better than screaming, fretting, bailing and doubting. Let me know what happens.