A GREAT CALM

The cacophony of voices inside my head of late has kept sleep at bay. Trying to make sense of life events, of the practical living out of this faith, of human thoughts and feelings, of the many ways we engage with and interpret God's Word and try to understand its claims on our lives...

Mental work is physically exhausting. Unfortunately, my brain sometimes forgets to be quiet long enough for my body to rest.

Again last night, I lay awake, trying to quiet my teeming brain. I prayed, "God, what do you want to teach me? Please, Lord, quiet all these voices so that I can hear you."

Still, the tumult.

Then, a verse: "You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you." (Isaiah 26:3)

...whose mind is stayed on you...

As the many voices clamored to be heard, I considered each voice and then, with great effort, set each one aside. "No. I cannot listen to you right now. Right now, I want to hear the voice of my Father." Slowly, the noise subsided. Finally - finally! - a place of quiet, peace and rest. You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you...

Again, this time in the stillness, I prayed, "God, what do you want to teach me?"

* * *

Several weeks ago, one of the deacons at Grace filled in for Brother Billy during Sunday morning worship. Justin preached on the passage in Matthew 8 where Jesus calms a storm. Maybe you are familiar with the story: Jesus and his disciples get into a boat to cross over the sea. A great storm blows up and their boat is in danger of sinking. Jesus's disciples cry out for Jesus to save them. Jesus calms the sea. (See Matthew 8:23-27)

Last night, God brought this sermon to mind again. "Camille, can you remember any of the points that Justin made during his sermon?"

Yes. Yes, I could. Because although I was familiar with the story before that Sunday morning, several of the points Justin shared that morning really jumped out at me. Things like...

• Several of the men in the boat with Jesus that night were fishermen.
• They were well-seasoned sailors.
• Not only were they able, experienced sailors, but they also knew the particular sea on which they were sailing.
• They knew the weather patterns on this sea.
• They knew about the sudden windstorms that blew down from between the mountains and across the water, and they knew how to manage their craft in these storms.

These men were in their element. Even in a storm, these men were fully competent for the task at hand, the task of getting their boat safely across the sea.

Jesus took these men into their area of greatest competency, and there, He created an extraordinary storm - a storm so other-worldly that they were forced to turn their attention from the task at hand and from their own competence, to Jesus himself. And when these master seamen did just that - when they looked to Jesus - then...

* * *

As I considered this passage again last night, it occurred to me - this is what Jesus does in the lives and hearts of his followers, over and over again. He takes us into our areas of greatest competency, and He lashes our craft with wind and waves until, in desperation, we are forced to peel our hands off the rigging and fall at his feet, until we cry with his disciples, "Save us, Lord!"

Seasoned sailors - in their element, at the top of their game - begging a sleeping Carpenter to save them from the sea. A carpenter. Seriously?

It doesn't make sense, people. It just doesn't make sense. But then...

"Then [Jesus] rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm" (verse 26).

* * *

So, all of this is what God brought to my mind in the sleepless hours of the night. He reminded me of this great truth:

The work that God does for me and in me and through me, God does that work himself, without my help.

I want to think that I contribute something to that work, to think that by virtue of my skill set or my experience or the knowledge I possess, I help sail the boat safely across the sea. But over and over, God smashes through my competency. I am distressed to find (yet again) that I cannot cling to the rigging and at the same time cling to Christ.

Over and over, my sailing skills amount to nothing in the presence of the might, majesty, sovereignty, and glory of God.

Does this realization discourage me? No. No, it has quite the opposite effect. Kneeling in the presence of the Carpenter, I find comfort, assurance, and peace, and I am moved to worship.

At the feet of Jesus, the most turbulent storm is dispelled. At the feet of Jesus, I find a great calm. At the feet of Jesus, all the voices are silenced. All that's left is praise.

It doesn't make sense, people, but there it is.

You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. - Isaiah 26:3