The Calm That Carries You
Shoot fire! I’m plumb tickled like a lil’ ol’ rooster with a brand new sunrise, friend. It’s so good to see you here today. Why don’t you just pull up a good easy chair on this here front porch and hang on to your sweet, iced tea for a lil’ spell ‘cause Mark 4:39 is ‘bout to git to shinin’ brighter than a coal oil lantern hangin’ on a barn door at darkest midnight. That verse tells us, “Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.” Now, that there’s sturdier than an ol’ granddaddy snappin’ turtle sittin’ in the same lil’ warm sunspot he’s been claimin’ since the Eisenhower administration some 60 years ago.
Life has a funny way of sneakin’ up on us like a mischievous lil’ ol’ raccoon who has figured out how to open the trash can lid. One minute everything is peaceful, and the next minute the winds of fear, disappointment, sickness, or heartbreak come barrelin’ in like a bull that spotted an open gate. That’s exactly where the disciples found themselves on the Sea of Galilee. These were seasoned fishermen, friend. They knew their way ‘round a boat better than a barn cat knows the best napping spots. But this storm had them hollerin’ for help. Maybe that’s where you are today. You have tried your best, used your wisdom, leaned on your experience, and still the storm keeps right on showin’ its scary, sharp teeth. But hear this right here and now. The presence of a storm doesn’t mean the absence of God. Jesus was in the boat right there with them the whole time.
And here’s somethin’ worth underlinin’ and highlightin’. Before the storm ever showed up, Jesus had already said, “Let us go to the other side.” That means the destination was already settled before the waves ever started misbehavin’. God never promised a storm free journey, but He did promise His presence and His purpose. Too many of us spend all our energy starin’ at the wind and the waves like a confused cow watchin’ a train go by, instead of lookin’ at the Savior who commands those storms. Fear grows when the storm looks a whole lot bigger than Jesus. Faith grows when Jesus looks a whole lot bigger than the storm. His silence is not His absence. The very same Savior who slept through the storm also stood up and shut it down.
When Jesus spoke, nature straightened up like a kid caught misbehavin’. The wind stopped. The waves settled. Peace walked right into chaos because the King had opened His mouth and commanded it. That same Jesus understands your pain ‘cause He became a man, and He has power over your situation ‘cause He is God. So, stop measurin’ your future by the size of your storm. God already factored this storm into His plan ‘a-fore you ever felt the first raindrop. If He said you’re goin’ to the other side, friend, no storm can cancel His promise ‘cause you’re goin’ to the other side.
Father, thank You for bein’ the One who speaks peace into our storms. Help us trust Your presence, cling to Your Word, and rest in Your power. Calm our hearts even when the waves rise high. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Well, now, glory be, that truth shines brighter than a possum caught tryin’ to sneak off with the dog food. As you step back into your day, let this settle into your heart the way a tired mule settles into a shady patch of grass after pullin’ a plow since sunrise. Let it calm you like the soft hum of cicadas on a summer evening when the whole world finally decides to hush for a minute. And tuck it down deep into your spirit the way a squirrel tucks away a prized acorn knowin’ it will be there when the cold winds blow. ‘Cause no matter how loud your storm roars, the Savior who commands the seas is standin’ right beside you, steady as a cedar tree that has already outlived a dozen Texas storms. Just remember Who is right there in your boat with you ‘cause Jesus is the calm that carries you, friend.
With joy,
Gwen
