Storm Warning

“Immediately, Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray. Later that night, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them.”

―Mark 6:45-48a NIV

Our ship left Prince Edward Island and sailed up the Gulf of St. Lawrence toward Quebec City. The waters were relatively calm, considering we’d left Boston on the heels of Hurricane Earl.

The night’s forecast—a strong gale and rain.

We hadn’t interpreted strong gale to mean 70 mph winds and 50 foot waves that would rock us sleepless. Perhaps that night, I experienced some of the same emotions the disciples did in their storm.

After a full day of ministry, the disciples waited in the boat for Jesus. Would the throngs of people ever leave? Moments must have felt like hours as the storm clouds gathered overhead. Imagine their readiness as Jesus gave them the green light to go ahead of him to the other side of the lake. Serving their Master was invigorating. A few storm clouds would never dampen their spirits.

Then...the storm rolled in.

The disciples were vulnerable and afraid. As the waters threatened to overtake their small boat, they struggled to stay on course. Surely Jesus knew the storm was coming. Why would he send them out to face it alone?

Where was Jesus when they needed him?

Mark 6 addresses the common misconception that following God assures smooth sailing. Jesus wasn’t oblivious to the storm. He sent the disciples out knowing they would encounter it. Uprooting them from their comfort zones and placing them in a situation which required extreme faith, would reveal their weaknesses, strengthen their spiritual muscles, and ultimately summon them to new depths of dependency on him. The experience would allow them to see the futility of braving life’s difficulties in their own strength.

Jesus ordained the storm, but his compassion for his disciples transcended it.

Although the disciples lost sight of Jesus, he never lost sight of them. From the mountain, he watched and prayed to his Heavenly Father for their safety and at just the right moment, he intervened.

Storms come to us all—even believers.

We’re not sheltered from them, but we are sheltered in them. Perhaps, you’re experiencing opposition as you strive to do God’s will? Are you straining at the oars? Can you relate to the futility of self-effort? Don’t allow storm clouds to dampen your spirits.

Rest in the following truths.

• Jesus’s eye is always on you.
• His prayers continually cover you. 
• He will meet you in the waters of your adversity. 
  

Rejoice!
Help is on the way.

Now its your turn. What is one of your go-to scriptures when storms threaten to capsize your ship.

I always welcome your comments.

All Is Well . . . Isn't It?

 

“About the fourth watch of the night 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.”

―Mark 6:48b‒50, NIV

 Waves crashed against the ship’s hull only inches from our pillows.

“What would it take to capsize this ship?”

“Cruise ships are built for high winds and rough seas,” my husband assured me. His words always comforted me. It wasn’t what he said that consoled me as much as the calm manner in which he said it.

As the waves continued to swell so did my questioning. “Are you sure this ship isn’t going to tip over?” 

Again, he assured me. However, I sensed his confidence beginning to ebb, so I quit asking. 

 I lay there wide-eyed and waiting―waiting for our captain’s “All is well” to spill from the ship’s PA. The announcement never came.

I can certainly identify with the disciples’ fear: fear that shrouds God’s presence in the storms. For the disciples, it was the fourth watch of the night―the blackest part―the eleventh hour. Their white-knuckled hold on the oars began to slacken as the strength seeped from their arms.

Then―Jesus appeared.

He wasn’t running. He wasn’t frantic. He calmly walked on the water and almost passed them by. The way he chose to come was more than the disciples could reason out. Who walks on water? Consequently, they opted to believe he was a ghost as if that held some shred of logic.

This aspect of the disciples’ encounter with Jesus would be humorous if it weren’t so similar to our own experiences. We’ve all been blinded by fear. Fear places our focus on what could happen rather than on what is real. Ghosts aren’t real. Jesus is. Though he does defy logic, as do the supernatural ways he chooses to intervene in our situations.

Jesus was in complete control of the elements that threatened the disciples. He could have halted the storm with a single word. Instead, he chose to speak to the disciples’ fear.

“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

Jesus was already Master of the sea; he wanted to be Master of their souls.

It takes spiritual eyes to see the supernatural ways in which Jesus intervenes in our circumstances. As long as the disciples were afraid, their perception of him would be skewed; they would miss the reality of his presence in their storm.

Cry out to Jesus in your storm. Allow him to speak to your fears and open your eyes to his presence. Be encouraged: The source of your problem is under Jesus’s feet. The waters that threaten to overwhelm you are the same waters that will usher him to you.

Don’t let him pass you by.

 

SUNDAY SOLACE: Hope Floats

O God, thy sea is so big, and my boat is so small.



“For forty days the roaring floods prevailed, covering the ground and lifting the boat high above the earth. As the water rose higher and higher above the ground,

the boat floated safely upon it.” ―Genesis 7:17, Living Bible

Waves crashed against the boat’s hull only inches from where Noah and his wife lay.

“What would it take for this boat to capsize?” Naamah asked.

“This boat is built for high winds and torrential rains,” Noah assured her.

Moments later, “Are you sure we’re not going to perish?”

Her husband’s words always comforted her. It was not what he said so much as the calm manner in which he said it. But how could he be so sure?

"This hope we have as an anchor of the soul,

a hope both sure and steadfast."

―Hebrews 6:19, NASB

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http://365degreelens.blogspot.com/