Lately, I've felt like I'm in a boat tossing on a stormy sea. My back and neck muscles are tight and aching as I strain to keep the boat upright.
Fierce waves splash in: a deluge of bills, a hurricane of financial loss, floods of uncertainty.
Through the flurry of wind and rain, I hear words spoken. They come from someone on board, though I'm too busy bailing water and working the sails to look at Him.
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you" (Is. 43:1,2, NIV).
These words are spoken with such authority and love that I want desperately to believe them. I would almost be glad for the storm if it would prove to me that these words are true.
But the storm increases its rage. It threatens to overwhelm me. I see no way out. I struggle harder against the gales. I cry in fury. Finally, drenched with sea water and bowed to the icy wind, I search out the One who spoke those comforting words.
Surely He is working to save the boat. Perhaps He will show me a better method of fighting storms. But He's nowhere on deck, fore or aft.
Then I stumble across Him, sleeping in the bottom. Something inside me snaps. I scream at Him, shaking Him awake. How can He sleep? Doesn't He know we're going to drown? Doesn't He care? Didn't He mean those words?
He doesn't look at me, but slowly rises to His full stature. He walks steadily up to the churning bow. I sit and stare because the whipping wind doesn't bend Him. He stands and stretches His arm seaward. "Peace, be still." He commands. Immediately the wind stops. The water is smooth as glass. I look on, dumbly.
Then He turns and looks full in my eyes. And I know He is seeing right into my heart. He asks, "Where is your faith?"
Then I know that the real storm is inside me. He knew He had control of the stormy sea. But He could not really help me until He had control of me.
I shouldn't have tried to fight the storm by myself at all. At the first sign of a wind, I should have gone straight to Him in the bottom of the boat. I could have rested there with Him and received His strength. I could have said, "Lord, if You want this storm to take me, that's all right, as long as I go with You. But if You want to defeat the storm, show me what You want me to do. And if You have allowed this storm in order to teach me a lesson or to point out something in my life that needs to change, I open my heart now to You."
I pray for grace to react that way at the next sign of unrest.
As I kneel, torn and soaked, before those penetrating eyes, I know He has rebuked my storm. And now He calms it. The waters of my soul lay peaceful. And so clean!
Now I can look in His eyes and rejoice.
Copyright ©1983, 2006 Catherine Lawton
The Lookout (March 20, 1983)