Riding the Storm

Hey God,

I’m out here on my boat and it feels like I’ve been riding this storm plenty long.  These waves are scary and exhausting and I can barely catch my breath. I’m trying so hard to stay standing but my legs are becoming too weak and wobbly and I am ready to collapse right in the middle of the deck.  Just when I think the sun is going to come out and the sea is going to rest, another wave crashes against my boat and I’m left drenched.  

When are you going to calm my storm?  Have I not yelled out at you enough?  

I’m confused, am I supposed to cry out for help like your disciples did, or am I supposed to ride it out and wait for beautiful things to come from this storm?

I’m afraid.  I’m freaking the heck out and there you are, just sleeping in the corner all cozy and peaceful, not waking up.  Unfortunately, I think the rain and thunder is actually too loud for you to even hear me so THAT’S JUST REAL CONVENIENT, GOD.  I’m breaking a sweat trying to use some dinky little bucket to get the water out of this boat and it feels like you aren’t even noticing. 

I’m done.  I’m going to put my bucket down.  I’m too tired for this.

This allows me to really see you; observe you.  All curled up on your side, eyelids sealed shut, belly slowly filling and releasing with air.  You look really peaceful. So peaceful, that it forces me to take a deep breath in and sit down (or try to sit down, because clearly the waves are still rolling here!).  How do you do it? Are you seriously that tired? Also, what you are dreaming about?

I really want to know the answers to these questions so I nudge you on the shoulder, “Lord, wake up!  Save me!” And I start rambling and repeating my doubts and confusions to you. You just barely get one eye squinted open (you must be exhausted from all the other storms you’re riding), and you whisper so quietly that I really have to come in close, and through the rain you say, “why are you so afraid?  You have so little faith.” And just as I’m about to respond with some quick witty response, you go back to sleep.  You didn’t invite me to lay down, but you don’t instruct me to get back up and keep fighting the storm either. So I’m left here still wondering; do I pick my bucket up and start fighting the waters while screaming your name, or do I take a moment to lay down with you?

For now, I think I will rest with you.  You’re right, I have such little faith and right now, it’s not getting me through this storm on my own so I will rely on Yours.  Your faithfulness is perfect and strong and although I am struggling during this storm, I still believe You are Sovereign. I know you care about me, and I’m sorry I doubt that.  Thank you for showing me grace and compassion and sticking through this with me. It doesn’t make this boat ride any easier, but knowing you are on deck with me, and knowing you actually can rebuke the storm at any given moment, gives me little pockets of peace that allow me to exhale and say, “Fine, Lord, I’ll nap with you for a bit.”  Tomorrow I might get restless and try to fight on my own again, but at least you’re here. Either way, thanks for staying with me through it, and thanks for staying calm even when the storm isn’t.