You know that feeling when you know God has something to tell you and all day you feel it in the back of your head? Like a whisper blowing through your mind, tickling all your senses till you give into the words? The promises?
All day God had been telling me to read Matthew 8.
I’m sure you know it: when Jesus calmed the waves.
Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!”
He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!”
If you’ve been keeping up with the situation, you may have noticed a repetitive use of the metaphor “riding waves.” I’m pretty sure everyone in our family has used that to describe the up and down of our emotions, the situation, the good news and bad news, the successes and failures. We’ve been riding waves in a storm that was certain to drown us. It’s not an incredibly creative metaphor, but it’s the one that’s worked for us.
So that’s why these few verses really connected with me this week, despite having memorized this story years ago.
Every single wave has come back down. Every time we desperately have needed a breath, we’ve gotten one. Every scare has been calmed and every failure has been followed by a success that was better. One day our dad is surely dead and the next day he’s still alive. One day we have a jet to take him out of Siberia and the next minute it’s gone. We are drowning. But then two days later he’s finally about to leave and he’s healthier now so he may actually survive the flight. Then he’s in Paris but he’s still in his coma. Then he has an infection in his blood. Then he wakes up and sees us and holds our hands.
God has been here every step of the way. It’s so evident that his hand has guided this situation that it’s laughable. The miracles cannot be ignored. His timing has been so perfect, none of us could have planned it.
And despite miracle after miracle, we still get scared the next wave is going to be the one that drowns us. Despite finally being told by the doctors “He’s doing great” or “We are out of the critical stage” we think, well the hiccups aren’t gone and the infection is still there or it could still go wrong any minute.
And it could. And if it did, God would still be glorified.
But how many times does Jesus need to calm the storm for us to completely and utterly believe he will calm the next one? How small is our faith, really? Smaller than a mustard seed, that’s for sure.
I’m so thankful for God. I’m so thankful that He is never scared, never shocked, never behind, and never tired. I’m so glad he knows the brain better than any doctor. I’m so glad He’s had His angels guiding my dad and my family. His glory is so evidently seen in this situation, I know my dad would do it all again.
He calms the waves. Every time.