He got up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace be still!” The wind ceased, and there was a great calm. Then he said to them, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4: 39-40)
I went out into the ocean today, and for the first time, I noticed my hidden fear – my fear of falling, of looking foolish, of taking a misstep. I sensed I was visible, but maybe not really, because of course so many other people were actually enjoying the waters. Babies were playing. Teens were surfing. Even the older couples were out canoodling. And there I was afraid to go out into the sea – far out. I don’t know if it was simply the shaky ground beneath my feet that caused the fear to rise or if it was a myriad of others things racing through my head. I’ve been out in the ocean before. Far out in fact. But today? Nope. I stayed close to the shore. I was seen even by this lady who said I looked like Halle Berry; that I looked beautiful in my suit, my hat and my sunglasses. And while that beauty may have been there, I was simultaneously aching for more.
More, Lord Jesus, more.
As I looked to the sky, there was but one cloud above. I knew God was speaking to me in that moment, but what was He quite saying. I don’t know. That cloud up in the sky by itself reminded me that it was just me. Or at least it just said that to me.
I still don’t know what was God saying. Perhaps, trust me?
T. R. U. S. T.
We’re back to this again, Lord? Ok, God, I get it. I don’t trust you like I did… like I want to.
I could sense you beckoning me to come out into the sea… to come forward like Peter walking on water. But I couldn’t. The grit of the sand. The steadiness of the shore I sat on. The rhythmic nature of the waves which seemed more calculated from afar – they were my safe space. They felt like home…what I knew I could depend on; what I knew felt stable; what I knew I could control, even despite the salty waves that brushed up against my face. And all the while, I found comfort in the controlled environment, but discontent in its restriction.
I am not leaving this little square of water. I cannot leave this little square of water and sand. What if you fail me? What if the waves overcome me? What if I fall? What if?? What if? What if? What if I…?
Yeah, that I… that I shows that I don’t trust you. I should. I want to.
I don’t remember how to.
My memory has been ransacked after a year of trauma; after of year of burying pain, frustration, hatefulness, anger; after a year of trying so hard.
I’d like to believe I’m just a victim of such behavior, but in reality, I’m the perpetrator. I beat myself up with these things. Allowed the enemy to take a foothold… to steal, kill, and destroy. He’s ransacked my mind, my heart, and my inner being. He’s inflamed the wounds of old – so much so that I’ve forgotten what the balm of peace feels like. What shalom means….what it brings.
I don’t remember. Such spiritual amnesia. This concussion is damaging.
I’m damaged with Jesus and the Holy Spirit as my only hope for healing.
Yes you, God… I need… for healing, joy, and peace.
It’s you I must trust.
Teach me again.
Or, maybe, just maybe, teach me for the first time.
Teach me as the wind and waves know.
Your complete, holy, magnificent truth.
Worship for Encouragement
“‘Cause He’s walking on the water. He’ll calm your raging sea. No, you don’t have look no farther. He’s the hope that you need. If your sails are torn and tattered. And the storm just won’t cease. Take hold of the hand of Your Savior. He’s the anchor of peace. He’s the anchor of peace.”