It was sometime between 4 and 5 AM. The Sea of Galilee lay engulfed in thick darkness. On this night a heavy wool coat of storm clouds refused to let the moonlight spark across the whitecaps. A brutal wind strained against the muscles of 12 young, healthy oarsmen, and like a perfectly matched arm-wrestling duo, they found themselves locked in one place, a trembling embrace, praying that the other would exhaust itself first.
And through this stormy darkness, Jesus still on land, focused his eyes across three and a half miles of gusty sea spray and saw the frustration his followers felt from exhausting themselves yet getting nowhere.
Many of you reading this today are fatigued. You feel like you’ve been paddling like mad, but this boat is going nowhere. I thank God that you’re still clutching an oar. Hang on. Jesus’ eyes have captured you across the storm, and he’s on his way. He is not taking another route to the place he told you to go. He isn’t sitting on some distant shore, tapping his watch, and preparing to scold you for taking so long to get where he told you to go.
No. He is coming to you. In the midst of the storm. He’s walking through the storm, across the tumultuous sea, and He’s coming to you. Where we ever got the idea that we must always come to Him is beyond me. Since the dawn of humanity, He has always come to us. Adam sins and God plays “it” in the first game of hide and seek and says, “Here I am. I found you. Let’s talk.” To Noah, He says, “Here I am. Let me show you how to keep your head above water.” To Abraham He says, “Let’s start a family.” To Jacob, He says let’s wrestle…with your past. I’ll even say you won.”
Over and over again, throughout recorded history, God comes across the darkness to find us.
So, because it is in his very nature, Jesus sets out across the water to be with those who are struggling. Hang on to your oar. He’s coming to you.
Wishing you faith for today,
Roy
