Later that night, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he (Jesus) was alone on land. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. Shortly before dawn he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified. Immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down.
Mark 6:47-52 (NIV)
I missed my calling. I should have been a storm chaser. Goodness knows gale force winds find me, even when I’m minding my own business, even when I least expect it. I don’t know why I thought living for Christ would be free from thunder and lightening.
Once upon a time I was the storm. A cyclone of self ruination. I twisted out of control with no regard to the mess I left behind. Wild seemed to brew in my in-most being, building in intensity, screaming for release. I got caught up in the approval seeking tunnel, grasping for affirmation, no matter where it came from. Substance abuse, meaningless relationships…anything that made me feel wanted, part of something. Yet something was always missing. Then Jesus, Master storm chaser pursued me and pulled me into the eye of His calm. He began to still my spinning thought process, He began to change it, I found my something and began to hone it. I wanted to know this Master of the wind.
I was finally doing what I was meant to do. The twister I didn’t see coming though was the chunks of me that would either be ripped away or forever changed. I don’t mean just the the visible signs of my morphing into a Christian. I’m talking about things I couldn’t change. Hearts that didn’t want to come with me into this new life. Hearts that feel there’s no need to be different. I lost some relationships, and some are separated by a chasm of, we agree to disagree, and stubbornness. I’ve waded in the floods of sorrow as the waters of resentment and anger rushed me, ever swirling. Under currents of dislike, hate? I’ve experienced the pain of loss even though the flesh and bone forms live and breathe. There are days I feel helpless. On those days I carry that hopelessness to the power of the Cross. I cry out to the Lord for mercy, praying for those who’re lost, longing to bridge the gap. I know He hears me. He comforts me and assures me that I am His. He makes me ready to resume my voyage and equips me for the next gale.
Yes, I still struggle when the sea of my past crashes into my present. Lately, clouds of bygone instances have blown their way into blue skies, threatening and dark. The winds of remorse gain speed, brewing up regret, and sorrow, and discontent. My sturdy façade quakes as the battering force threatens to blow it away, trying to uproot the foundation of who I’ve become. Who I was always meant to be. There are times, even now, when I think it would be easier to take my eyes off of Jesus and look down into the roiling cauldron of worldly living. Satan luring me back into a vortex of age old lies. But I know I won’t. I won’t because God is bigger. He teaches me things even when I struggle against my own churning wake. Even when I’m blindsided by squalls not of my own making. In my minds eye I lift my hands up as forces rage around me, and in me. That are me. I see God’s hand splitting the heavens, reaching down to grasp mine, His spirit calming a heart out of control. The storm abates. The waters still. I look up, compassionate eyes, merciful smile, God of my storms…God of my calm and I say amen.
My prayers go out to anyone who knows the pain an unforeseen twister can wreak. Don your life jacket of salvation and keep your eyes on the Maker of the rain. Go to battle with prayer and petition and rest in the knowledge that He hears you.
Beautiful, please listen! Master of the Wind