I’m a mess right now. I’m all over the place. I have so much to say and yet no words will come. This was my year to go. And now everything has stopped. I was primed to launch, and now I’m sinking. I’m bogged down, and I’m heavy with grief and confusion. Everything I’ve poured my heart into here feels like it’s slipping through my fingers. Why is this happening? Why now? It’s maddening and painful and hardening. It feels personal. And my bet is, it feels personal to you, too. It’s the year the baby you prayed for is actually coming. The year the baby you’ve loved and guided and prayed over is graduating. It’s the year you’re getting married to the love of your life. The year of your big anniversary trip. It’s the year you start your business, buy your first house, win the award, watch your child win the award. It’s the first season, the final season, the best season. It’s the beginning of everything you ever wanted, and it’s the end of something you’ve poured your heart into. It’s personal.
The sea is rolling and your boat is taking on water faster than you can scoop it out. You are gasping for breath and drenched to the bone. You’re fighting to stay afloat - fighting for your very life. There’s no time to stop and think about how hard you’re working, or to grieve how sad it is that you won’t reach your destination - the place you’ve envisioned and dreamed of and fought to reach. Right now you’re just fighting to get to land. Any land. And to survive the storm. Your head is down as you work. And you don’t even notice how tired you are. But you are so so tired. Your muscles ache and your eyes burn and your breath heaves in your chest. You’re shaking with fatigue and weakening from hunger and gagging with thirst. You need rest. You need food. And you need water. You can’t do this much longer.
But imagine that just for a moment - even in the middle of your fight - you look up. Do you see that? There is someone out there. In the storm. Not even fighting. Just standing calmly. The sea that rages around you is calm where He stands. The darkness that is choking you is not overtaking Him, and light is actually pushing out from Him and overcoming the darkness. When you see Him out in the distance, you are angry and hurt, and you cry out, “Don’t you care if I drown?” He starts coming toward you. And as He moves, the sea calms, and the light pushes out the darkness, and you are not hungry or thirsty or tired any more. And you know He’s coming for you. He’s always been coming for you. To rescue you. And you’ve never had any reason to be so afraid. When He reaches you, He says, “Why were you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” There’s no need for you to really answer. You know He already knows everything about you. His presence calms and comforts and warms you, and the storm dissipates and you are safe. You always have been.
My boat’s been sinking these last few weeks. I’ve been fighting an impossible fight for my businesses. Feeling like I’m losing them before they even really got started. Grieving all the good and the growth I should be celebrating right now. Trying to find new ways to stay afloat. Hustling and creating and grasping for new kinds of possibilities. Growing exhausted and overwhelmed by the fight. Crying out in frustration and asking, “Do you even see me? I thought this is what you asked me to do? Can you just stop messing with me?” I actually said that to God. I said, “Can you just stop messing with me?” And in a matter of moments from that prayer, I got an email from a lady I barely know - someone I’m getting to know in a business group I’m leading who has no idea that my boat is sinking. Her words? “I just wanted you to know that you have been on my mind and heart the past few days. I have prayed for you on several occasions over the weekend that you may find the guidance you are needing as you discern the next right steps on your journey.” Her words were straight from God. That email was God telling me, “I see you. I’m coming for you. I’ve always been coming for you. Don’t you have more faith by now?”
Now I do.
So can you look up? Can you stop fighting for your life, and just look up. Even if your faith is so small that you cry out in anger to Him. Just look up. And cry out. Tell Him your fears and your grief and your pain. Tell Him how bad it hurts and how tired you are. Cry out. He can handle it. And He’ll come for you. He’s the rescue plan and you are His mission. He’s always been coming for you. And He always will be coming for you. He will never stop marching to find you no matter how dark your night or how fierce your storm. Even now. Even when it feels personal. Even when this was the year it was all supposed to be so different than it is. Even when it hurts and the tears flow and you feel like He doesn’t even see you. He does.
And even now as you fight for your life, He’s already saved it. So, you can rest with peace that transcends all understanding. And you can be fed and watered by the body and blood of Perfect Love. This storm will not consume you. Have faith. Just look up.
That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”