It's Jesus

"Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.  When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. 'It’s a ghost,' they said, and cried out in fear.  But Jesus immediately said to them: 'Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.'" - Matthew 14:25-27

I have to wonder - why didn't they recognize him?  This is not the disciples' first rodeo.  You'd think that the face and stature of the man who has been performing miracles in front of their very eyes would be hard to forget.

But it seems as though they did.

Maybe it was because it was early (not a morning person, anyone?).  Maybe the mist was still hovering on the lake and Jesus was partially hidden.  Maybe he was backlit from the rising sun.  Or maybe - despite everything they had seen so far - they forgot what Jesus was capable of and assumed that anyone or anything that could defy the physical world could only mean them harm.

We shake our heads in wonder and say "How could they forget? What short memories!  What little faith!"  And yet, I am just the same.

After 30 years being a Christian you'd think I would recognize Jesus by now.  But still when I am faced with something new or unknown in my life, something I can't fully see or explain, I am afraid.  When something comes along that I didn't plan for, didn't see coming through the mist, that seems to defy the previously set rules of my world, I cry out.  Perhaps instead I should stop and consider that instead of something to fear, this thing coming towards me is from God.  That I should have looked at the new, the unexpected, the other-worldly, and quieted my fears enough so I could recognize the voice of Jesus saying "It's me!"

Fearful Leader

About this time last year, God leaned down and placed something in the middle of my path: a role, a leadership position in a ministry that I'd been a part of for over 10 years.  I didn't see it coming, and as I stumbled over it and looked down to see what had caught my stride, I knew like those moments you just know, that I needed to say "yes."  It was as though God gave me images of the future and wrote on my heart "I want you to be a part of this big thing."

Because I have experience of this area of ministry.  And my husband believes in me.  Because I 've got this!  Because it's a good fit and the right time.  Aren't those the reasons we're meant to do something?  Aren't we supposed to have knowledge, gifting, and the right heart before we are ready for a position of leadership?

It's too bad that a few months into it, I realized any explainable reasons why I'd been called to this role were held hostage and made useless by fear and anxiety.

So much for having a passionate vision of the future; for seeing all the pieces work together and helping the team to get there; for boldly making strides forward; for any of the practical reasons leaders are leaders.  I was anything but.

But then again, maybe I was called because I was afraid.  Maybe God held my earthly qualifications back because he wanted something else to wrestle in this fight.  Perhaps I am meant to be weak so that the only thing that could be said in response to people appreciating what we do is "God makes me able."

So here we go, team; I am your fearful leader.

Sacrifice

This idea of sacrifice has been stirring in my mind for some time now.  It's a common Christian theme:  sacrifice for your spouse, Christ sacrificing for the church.  We are clearly called to give up.

Although I'm not sure that giving up things that we are supposed to give up can really be considered sacrifice.  Like my snarky attitude because I've had a bad day.  Yes, I will sacrifice my grumpiness for  you, my husband.  You are welcome.

Also, giving up something that doesn't matter to us (even if it matters to someone else) isn't really sacrifice.  I will gladly sacrifice every black olive that comes across my path and give each and every one to my hubby, who loves them.  Get those things away from me...I mean...sacrifice them onto his plate, please.

Under "sacrifice" in the dictionary is this: "to surrender or give up, or permit injury or disadvantage to, for the sake of something else."

Not "to give up to become what we should have been in the first place."

Not "to hand over something that doesn't really make a difference to us anyway."

But to allow something of us to be set aside.   Something that we value, something that has deep meaning to us, that might have been rightfully ours to hold onto and keep.  Like Jesus, who was God and had every right to hold a position of authority.   He knew he was supposed to give up his rightful place.  He sought humility instead of power, allowing great injury to himself for the sake of us.

Sacrifice is going to look different for each of us; we have to pay attention to God and how he's leading us.  But here's the kicker:  God's not going to take the thing we are each called to sacrifice.  We have to be the ones to give it up, to permit it.  It most surely will hurt in some way, and most definitely put us at a disadvantage, at least in the way the world looks at it.  But if we allow God to use us through sacrifice, it will always be for the sake of drawing us and those around us more fully into his love.

Ordinary

Today my moms' group had our last meeting before Christmas, and right at the beginning they played a short video.  Mostly text to music, it told about Mary's journey and connection with Christmas.

We were eating brunch while watching it, and I'll confess, I was a little distracted by my eggnog french toast casserole and coffee (nom nom, am I right?) but all of a sudden a phrase caught my eye.

"...Mary, ordinary but chosen..."

There was such appeal in those words.  I realize that not many people would want to be described as "ordinary."  There's nothing special about that (literally).  But for me there is almost relief in the word.  In the idea that such an important role was given to someone who didn't need to prove anything before they played their part.  In the thought that God's intricate plan, with thousands of twists, turns and glorious tangles, is pieced together with the average, with everyone, with the ordinary.

Even someone as un-spectacular as me.

I often rule myself out based on what I know of myself.  The view that only God and I share of my faults, inconsistencies, and failures.  My poor heart and attitude.  My darkness and struggle.

In this world of brokenness, the things that make me just like everyone else - ordinary.

Yet God, who is rich in mercy, uses the foolish things of this world to put to shame the wise.  The weak are given strength.  And the ordinary are chosen.

Five Year Fear

I am bad with goals.  I gaze upon a five year plan with fear and trepidation.  It just seems so large, and I'm terrible at breaking it down into bite-sized pieces to swallow along the way.  And it paralyzes me to any type of action.

"In five years, I want to be doing THIS.  I want to have accomplished THAT.  In five years I will have CHANGED my life."

Gulp.

But maybe it's not about five years.  Maybe if it's about today, I can stand it.  The choices I make today, the decisions and directions I go in.  If I have to change my life in one giant leap, I don't think I'm going to make it.  But maybe there's hope for me if every small step makes a difference.

So today I'm going to do something that changes my life.  Hopefully tomorrow, too.  Who knows, I might just do it the day after that, as well.  And in five years I may wake up and say "Well what do you know, I'm somewhere different than where I started..."

Without Borders

I look at the faith of others sometimes - the stories of struggle and trust in the Bible - and I desperately desire to be that type of woman.  The one who believes that the slightest brush of her savior's cloak will heal her.

Sometimes I wonder if that faith will ever happen to me.  And then other times I realize that it can, but I have to choose it.

Last fall I was working at a weekend-long women's retreat.  Sunday morning, I was at the end of the breakfast buffet with my plate, reaching for a fork, when a woman came up to me and we exchanged a few pleasant words about the weekend.  After a few moments, she started to walk to her table, but then paused.

Turning back, she asked me a question.  When my answer was "no," she nodded and again went to walk away but almost immediately turned back again.  "This may not make sense based on your answer," she said almost in a befuddled manner,  "But I feel like I just need to tell you..." and proceeded to tell me about something very specific that was going to happen in my life.

As she left me standing there, she looked confused that she even felt a need to say it, like it made no sense to her.  She couldn't have known that what she said just directly contradicted a fear that I'd been struggling with for several years.  She couldn't have known - but God did.  And nudged by him, she delivered the message of a promise.

Amazingly, driving home later that day, I began to talk myself out of it.  Before long, I had a list of reasons why I'd imaged it all.  Then I realized this was it,  I was facing my decision:  I could return to my familiar, boxed-in faith, or I could choose to believe that God had spoken to me, and claim the promise he had given.  Both options were there, I simply had to reach out and take one.  Desperate for the hope and freedom that a kind of faith would bring, I made my choice and leapt for God.

Even typing it now, reasons not to believe it still try to wedge their way into my head.  But that's just Satan's lie that God is not as big as he is, is not as capable as he is, is not as loving.

A few months later, I heard this song for the first time, and that sealed it.  Trust without borders; and God's grace is amazing enough that it is ours for the choosing.  My God spoke to me, and I will not let that go.

False First - Earned

Whatever the case, he wanted to follow Jesus, just not first.  We're not any different.  If we were honest with ourselves, could we fill in what it is that we put a higher priority on than God?

"Lord, first let me earn my way to you."

Then I can properly follow.  Once I have fixed my faults and cleaned myself up a bit.  Spent a little time on self-improvement.  I can't stand to be in your presence in my present stage.  I must do something first to earn my healing.

First

I feel like a lot of us hear “first fruits going to God” from the Bible and it translates into the idea of giving 10% of our income back to God by tithing.  The money is supposed to go first, ahead of other spending or budget concerns. 

God has given us stewardship of much more than just money, however.  Every Christian is created with skills and abilities and given spiritual gifts by God, different things that they are meant to use to help others as we follow Him.  There are times, though, when following God as our first plan of action becomes a challenge for us.

“[Jesus] said to another man, “Follow me.”

But he replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”

Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” - Luke 9:59-60

At first glance it looks like Jesus is being pretty harsh; is there really such fault in wanting to care for loved ones?  But perhaps he has simply put his finger on the exact stumbling block for this particular man.  Maybe the man’s father had not just died, but instead the man meant that he wanted to wait until his father grew older and passed away before he joined Jesus.  

Whatever the case, he wanted to follow Jesus, just not first. 

We're not any different.  If we were honest with ourselves, could we fill in what it is that we put a higher priority on than God?  

What's our own  “Lord, first let me ____________________”?

Lesser

I want to help people.  I don't want my husband, or sister, or mom, best friend, etc. to struggle through anything.  I am a do-er, a fixer, I want to swoop in and enact some power that I think I have and cease their struggle.  Kind of like a spiritual ninja.

I'm 100% sure that there are times when God calls me to act in assistance of someone else.  I have no doubt that he works through us in the lives of those around us in real and powerful ways.

However....

It is a dangerous thing to try to remove someone else's struggles.  This is where the built-in necessity of God in our lives comes in.  If we're not connected to him with our ears open for his direction, we can go wildly outside of what he desires.  If God tells me to help someone, I'd do well to obey.  But if that wasn't his instruction, I'd better come to a screeching halt.

I was reading a Bible study today and this section reached out and grabbed my face with both hands:

"When we jump in to rescue our floundering [loved one]...when we enable, we volunteer to become a lesser refuge for that person."*

My intentions may be good, but the same loving God - who allows me to struggle sometimes in order to grow my faith in him and to strengthen me spiritually - wants that exact thing for the people we care about.  When the storm comes, he is the refuge that we should seek.  We need to get out of the way so that others can find it also.  Why on earth would we present ourselves as a substitute for all he is - restorer, healer, savior, peace, love and so much more?

Our own offer of rest and security, our so-thought "refuge," is so much the lesser.

*"Trust Training" by Dionne Carpenter

Overarching Issue

I haven’t had a hard life: I have good parents and family, became a Christian at a young age, and have not faced the outward trials that many others have.

Inward, however, has been a different story for me. My battle has always been a war within myself.  I understand when people express their pain and it comes out jumbled and everything at once. Often we cannot separate one aspect of our lives from another; when we hurt in one we hurt in many. Especially when the framework we normally place our lives in – our God – is the thing that is shaking. Most of the time it is our own thoughts that poison us.

All those things are screaming around our minds and no matter what direction we look, we have lost hope. We have lost joy and peace. I do not want to oversimplify or invalidate the struggle.  However, the overarching issue is just one thing.

Freedom. We have been saved, but somehow we are captive still. And it’s time for that to change.

Even Us

Wouldn't it be a release to know that we don't have to produce every second of every day?  Forget every day, even every week or month?

Doesn't something in us just ache for a cycle that follows harshness with a new something, a new chance, new...hope...

Every time I hear or read something about seasons of our spiritual life, it hits me hard in the gut.  Wouldn't that be just too good to be true, the idea that we don't always spiritually need to go-go-go, to look good, to make things happen.  These ideas about God that would be too good to be true, sometimes I want them so badly I try to will them into existence.

I am desperate for them to be true.

What relief I would find if there were times when I just needed to hold onto the roots of my faith, not look good, not produce fruit - just survive and feed from those roots - and that would be ok.

(Written 6 months later)

But then again, maybe I'm not trusting God enough to sustain me even in the moments when I am desperately tired and hungry.  Perhaps I need to believe that I can be used in any moment, despite myself.  It could be that the rougher and uglier we are, the more God's power is evident by showing he can give life to and through even us.

Wait

In December, Shawn got a job offer from the amazing church where we now serve.  It seemed like things were finally falling into place.  The same month, I slipped and fell on some ice, something I'd done a dozen times before.  This time, however, a simple accident produced what my physical therapist described as a "severe trauma injury" to my back; "almost exactly what you would see if you had been in a high-speed car accident."  Muscle and nerve pain in my back, hips, and legs.

So while some things were moving forward (new job, start in 8 weeks!  new place to live, move in 6!), others came to a screaming halt.

There were hopes and plans for things that I wanted for my life, for our life, that suddenly were not options because of the physical limitation.  I do my exercises, I do my stretches, and I am improving, but there is nothing I can do to make this move faster.  No pill to take, no work-out to do, no doctor to see, that will make swift my healing.  And while we should expect a full recovery, a complete resolution of symptoms and pain could take up to two years.  Hopes: deferred.

Some days I boil inside with frustration.  Others, my spirit sits quietly. At first the stillness was pure self-preservation; I could not sustain that burn of anger without feeling damage.  Then it became almost a habit, and amazingly enough, the fury in it doesn't show up most days.

The unexpected blessing is that God is allowing me to be a small part of some crazy things that he is doing in the lives of people around me.  I know it's not for me - it's for them and their lives and families - but somehow he has built a promise in it for me, too.  "Look what I can do," he tells me.  "In a place where you all thought hope was gone, I have brought it back to life."

So I wait, everyday attempting to transfer my hopes for Jesus to carry in his capable hands.  And remember, when doubt sometimes bites at the edges of my mind, I do not know yet how this story ends...

Rough Draft

I spent some time with a few close friends this past weekend.  They are the friends I don't see all the time, but when we do it's awesome.  We spend the whole day (if we can get it) catching up, laughing ourselves sick in the stomach (yes, still in our 30's), and talking over struggles (going through life together).  It's a little bit of everything and it's one of my favorite relationship dynamics in my life.

This past weekend 3 of the 4 of us were traveling to visit the 4th who was having a last hurrah before spending several months out of the country (our Christian-gypsy-free-spirit-missions-traveler-friend).  At one point during the visit, one of the others asked me how my 31 Project was going.  I cringed a little, because I'm not exactly where I want to be.  I've made progress, but I'm not where I should be with only 4 months left until my deadline (birthday number 32).  Interestingly enough, blogging has been my lowest numbered achievement so far.  I told this to my friend who asked, and she immediately zeroed in on it.  "Are you the type who won't post something unless you think it's profound?"  she posed.

And that's exactly it.  I hesitate to write just to write.  I want it to mean something, to be creative, unique, perfect...or at least, perfect in my own estimation (darn type-a perfectionism rearing it's ugly head).  That's not the point, though.  If I want this to become a habit, if I write because I love to write and hope to share out of my experiences in life, then I just have to do it, "profound," or not.

Side note: I seriously don't think I'm thebomb.com (1998 called and want's it's catchphrase back!), but I do hold myself so an impossibly high standard.  Just so, carefully crafted, only draft (forget rough draft, revision, and final), done right the first time, or not worth doing.

As I sat there, instantly the thought popped into my head that this is exactly what I do in life, too.  If I can't go into it knowing that it will go well (being able to craft an experience into what I want it to be), then I don't want to try it.  So I'm sitting at home, not doing things, and not even writing either, because I'm too afraid.  As one of my college roommates would say: "lame-sauce!"

We look at rough drafts as inferior, sometimes.  But isn't that what life is?  One rough draft after another.  And there is such value there; after all, without the rough draft, where would it all begin?

AR - I just want you to know that I didn't make any edits after initially typing this - viva the rough draft!  And I'm terrified...have grace for typos ;).

Small

I like words.  I like big ones, interesting ones, ones that so precisely mean what I want to get across; delightful accuracy that paints just the right picture.

However, my favorites are the small ones: "yet" & "but" are tiny of form while still casting a big shadow:

"All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else.

But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ - by grace you have been saved."  (Ephesians 2:3-5 NRSV).

"Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.  The Sovereign Lord is my strength."  (Hakakkuk 3:18-19 NIV).

True, the picture is not the same without the bigger words.  They are heavier and anchor the passage:  "children of wrath;" "rich in mercy;" "dead in trespasses;" "God my Savior;" "Sovereign Lord."

Yet the source of impact is much smaller.  Such a brief puff of air in the lungs, and it arrives.  It's seems to rest so lightly.

But it's the tipping point, it changes everything.

"But God..."

"Yet I will..."

Run

I've heard the prodigal son story from the angle of the sinful child: he represents the human realizing that he has lived in error and returns to God, the father.  I've also heard it from the perspective of the older son:  the seasoned Christian who is angered that someone else who had failed so badly is so quickly and easily forgiven.

It's not until recently that I thought of it from the perspective of the father.  I had a hard time relating to that role because I thought that was reserved for God; his forgiveness is the only one that can possibly be compared to the level of that in the story.

But for whatever reason, lately I am overwhelmed by the image of the prodigal trudging home and the father running to meet him.

He doesn't stand waiting at the house, knowing the son would arrive eventually.  He doesn't catch a glimpse of his son and then go and wait, fuming, for the kid to arrive home so he could give him a lecture.  He doesn't sneak out the back, or order his servants to tell the kid that his father "isn't at home."

At the first glimpse of the prodigal son, he runs.  The child lost to sin and needing forgiveness - the one he could rightfully choose to be angry with - he is only overjoyed to see.  The son who is acknowledging folly, whose every weary foot scuffle whispers "sorry...sorry...sorry..." on the dusty ground.

I can't tell you how many times when my husband has apologized to me that I've raced across our living room, vaulting over the back of the couch in that much of a rush to forgive him and reconcile.  I mean, literally, I can't, because it's never happened.  And I'll bet its a funny image for us to think of in terms of our relationships in every day life.

But imagine the restoration we could bring about, the life and love we could bring, if when someone asks for our forgiveness

we don't hesitate.
we don't lecture.
we don't hold out for our bruised emotions to wear off.
for the other person to "realize" what they've done.
or maybe
(if we're honest)
to punish them a little by withholding our affection and acceptance for a while.

What if instead we actually erase the past when someone admits a trespass against us?  What if we are swift to release blame and celebrate reconciliation?  What if the instant we see them returning to us, we meet them at a run?

"...[W]hile he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.  The son said to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you...." But the father said... "[T]his son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found." So they began to celebrate." - (Luke 15:20-24)

The 31 Project

Age doesn't scare me. Okay, the number doesn't scare me.  What does keep me awake at night is the thought that I'm not where I want to be at this point in my life.  I "should" be somewhere else (by what standard I am measuring this, I'm not sure).

Realistically, though, I do want to create some new habits for myself.  The older I get the more I realize that deliberateness serves me much better than just "letting things happen" (mostly because then they don't happen).  So I've started a project for myself this year.  I'm super creative, so in my head I call it The 31 Project because I'm 31 years old - mind blowing, I know.  You wish you had the genius I do...admit it.

The project is this:  I've chosen three things that I want to become regular habits in my life.  To motivate myself, I have put a visual reminder of them in my apartment, three color-coded glass containers with 31 identical small items in each; tiny decorative balls bought at Christmas Tree Shops - cause I love a bargain (you're totally singing the song in your head, aren't you...).  A fourth jar eagerly awaits my success, to be filled with these items one by one as I do the related thing.  My goal is to do each of the three things 31 times before I turn 32.

Now, that may seem easy;  "I will make by bed 31 times this year!"  But the trick is choosing something that is at the same time a challenge, achievable, and hopefully that will turn into a regular habit.  When I was first deciding, I entertained the idea of making one of them reading 31 books this year (then I came back to sanity - thats a book about every week and a half).  So instead I've made my three a little easier, so I don't bum myself out and lose motivation.  Number one is sending a friend a card or letter (red jar).  Number two is to write a blog post (green jar).

Moving a small item from one container to another may seem like a silly gimmick to try and get someone moving in the right direction.  Some people may think that if you can't do it without such a tiny reward, then you won't do it at all.  But sometimes all it takes is a small hook to be the thing to push you over the edge towards good habits.  I like the visual reminder to do it, to see what I've accomplished and how far I have left to go.

So here's to my first step in The 31 Project, a blog that gets one green drop of accomplishment moved from "who-I-wish-to-be" to "I'm-on-my-way."

  

Odds

I like having good odds.  I like being able to stack the deck.   I am a woman who wants a plan.  I want a back-up plan.  I want a back-up plan for the back-up plan (all preferably written down on a checklist somewhere).

If I just work a littler harder my odds in life will be really good.

There's human irony in the fact that the more we "need" things to work in our favor, often the less they do:

• Looking for a job - and having 50 other people apply for the same position (some with double or triple the experience).
• Just barely making it financially - when a car dies and needs to be replaced.
• Trying to build a more stable ministry - and having a dozen transitions and issues arise at the same time.  
• Almost having a handle on tricky family dynamics - when health issues or life changes throw a monkey wrench in the plan.
• Getting amped up to start living a more healthy life - and an illness makes it barely possible to move around.  

There have been many moments in the past few years where I threw my hands up and thought "Really, Lord?  One more thing?  You have GOT to be kidding me....seriously, something's got to give...".  Just when I was certain we could not function with one more challenge, along one came.

The odds were not in our favor.

But God loves bad odds.  Otherwise, why would we ever think that the success we have is from Him?  We are much more likely to see human explanations before holy ones.

Just like Gideon, God looks at us (who really are weak), calls us "mighty warrior" (ok, isn't that in itself pretty incredible) and then tells us to send away most of our army.  And then we see what happens and make no mistake that it is His work (and that we had pretty much nothing to do with it).

Not to say that we don't need to try and plan and be responsible ("let's quit our jobs and just pray for God to drop food on us from heaven!").  But now when things are stacking up against me, as I get nervous, I also start to get excited.  Because the circumstances are being primed to be in the perfect place for God to do what He does best - something AMAZING.

God is bigger than my resume.

He's a better safety net than my savings account.

And for sure He's got enough muscle to move any wrench in the works.

I'll take those odds.

Shifting Shadows

It's 2 am and I really should be sleeping, but my mind won't stop.

Through the past few months it feels like nothing much has changed...but then also, oddly, like there is a lot going on.

There have been a series of disappointments that we've faced.  We keep trying to pursue different avenues of ministry and employment but to no avail.

But the one thought that God continues to press into my mind is that when we cannot trust what He's doing - or rather, we don't want to - we should focus on who He is.  And trust that.

I do not know what God is doing.  For whatever reason - my blindness, or His choice to keep His movements a mystery to us for the time being - I cannot see.  A lot of days, it looks like He is doing nothing.

But I know Him.  And if I trust who He is, then I know that is not true.  He is not inactive.  I have seen Him work in my life in the past, and the God who did those things has not changed.  He is not as fickle as we are, those who seem to shift under every new influence.

"God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind.  Does he speak and then not act?  Does he promise and not fulfill?"  - Numbers 23:19

Hamster Wheel

I don't sleep well.  I lay down and no matter how tired I am, as soon as my head hits the pillow a million things start spinning through my mind.  Even if I was just falling asleep on the couch in front of the tv and I actually get up and drag myself to bed the hamster wheel begins....it's frustrating.

Especially since my husband (whom I love, don't get me wrong), literally passes out the moment he's under the covers.

As you can imagine, this does not grant me a sense of peace.  If you've been around for any amount of time, you know that the WORST time to think about what's going on in life is when you're tired.  Of course, that's all the evil hamster makes you think about - not licorice and confetti raining from the sky.  No, it's all the life issues that stress you out.  Talk about NO PEACE.

It makes me think of the time that Jesus and the disciples were in the boat on the water and a storm came up.  Crashing waves, lightning, thunder, wind...terror....and the leader of the group was sleeping.  SLEEPING (my first reaction is, of course, jealousy...I wish I could sleep through that!  I am a very light sleeper *sigh*).

The disciples freaked out.  They were upset that Jesus was ignoring what was going on around them. They felt (even in his presence) abandoned.  How ironic that even in God's ever-presence, we can feel abandoned.

But the real kicker for me is that Jesus wasn't ignoring the trouble, he just was facing it with peace.  The disciples thought they needed something that they didn't (a calm sea).  God will always provide what we need (Philippians 4:19), so it's not a question of Jesus avoiding the issue.

If we really follow the lead of our teacher, he is showing us to be calm and peaceful in the face of a storm.  He is showing us that he is with us, and that sometimes the storm must rage for a while before he steps in so that we can know the glory of his immediately powerful word.

Peace Under Authority

It doesn't at all surprise me that last week - a week when I was anxious about an upcoming event - my Bible study homework was about peace.

You can't have peace by trying to have peace; it has to come as a result of a relationship with Christ.  And with once sentence my study was challenging me to take the whole idea deeper:

"Peace doesn't come with the answer; peace comes with authority."  

She went on to say that we do not so often have a knowledge problem (if we only knew what was going on, then we'd be at peace!) as an obedience problem (bam!). And just like that she pinned me to the wall.

Could this feeling of peace be brought about by a sheer force of will action such as obedience?  Usually NOT knowing what's going on produces ultimate panic and frantic prayers that God would just show me or tell me what to do.  Maybe giving up this need to know, to figure out releases us from the responsibility for directing our lives (and possibly screwing up).  Isn't it when we have a leader we trust that we feel relief?

"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.  For He Himself is our peace, who has made both one, and has broken down the middle wall of separation.... 

He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.  And He is the head of the body, the church;  He is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything He might have the supremacy."

(Ephesians 2:13 & 14 NKJV; Colossians 1:17 & 18 NIV)