We were miles out. No matter which direction I turned, there was no land. I recall thinking, this shouldn't bother me. But it did. At 20 years, I had never been "at sea." I had always been able to see land. Now, here we were, well out into the Gulf of Mexico, and there was nothing to see but water in every direction.
I confess: I didn't much care for it.
Our family friends had offered to take me out for a day of fishing and "picnicking." Our onboard repast of cheese, fruit, sandwiches, and soft drinks was delicious. Every other part of that day was nice. So, I swallowed my nervousness, tamped it down deep inside, and, catching some of their joy, plastered a genuine smile on my face.
The day moved along. We fished. We caught some. I was not surprised to discover, despite the lively movement of the boat, that I was not seasick. After all, I grew up on the water. Just not this water.
The storm rose up early in the afternoon.
My hosts seemed completely unaffected by the increased rocking of the boat, the whitecaps forming on the peaks of the choppy waves, and the darkening clouds rolling in from—well, I had no idea which direction.
We sat. We chatted. I watched.
The wind had become quite brisk. Finally, the husband looked up (the sky was growing darker). He looked out (the waves were growing higher). Then, as calm as you please, he said, "We should probably head back in."
He was not concerned. He knew what to do. I recall realizing: He's got this.
And that's when I finally relaxed. Oh, our return trip was bouncy, and windy, but I enjoyed it. Partly because I knew we were headed ashore, but mostly because I was confident in his confidence. He was the master of the boat. He understood the relationship of the craft to the water. He knew how to take that vessel through the weather and on into the safety of the port.
Sometimes our lives take on similar dimensions. We find ourselves in a place where the "mighty waters" of life threaten; we're tossed about by the wind and the waves. Satan wants us to focus on that, to sink into our fear. But no matter how far out we are, no matter how deep, we can take comfort in the Lord. This week's selection from Psalms 93 says: “The ocean depths raise their voice, O Lord; they raise their voice and roar. The Lord rules supreme in heaven, greater than the roar of the ocean, more powerful than the waves of the sea.”
The Lord is not disturbed by the high winds, the mounting waves, the darkening clouds. No matter the storms that arise on our journey through this life, we can have confidence in His confidence.
He's got this.
_______________________________
PHOTO: Steve Orr
Will you be in Waco Friday morning? Join us at 8:00 for DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast at Our Breakfast Place or on Zoom**. It’s an hour like no other. The scriptures are fascinating, the food is tasty, and our fellow travelers are just the best.
Blessings,
Steve
**Zoom link (Zoom allows you to mute the camera and the microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.)
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89947678414
SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY AND THE COMING WEEK
Find them here:
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts/?y=382&z=p&d=86
Print them here:
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/wp-content/uploads/pdfs/Bx_ReignofChrist.pdf
2 Samuel 23:1-7
Psalm 132:1-12, (13-18)
Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
Psalm 93
Revelation 1:4b-8
John 18:33-37
Reign of Christ - Proper 29 (34) (November 24, 2024)
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