I LOVE the sea! Having grown up near the ocean and having spent countless hours swimming, sailing, water skiing, and walking on the beach, being on or near water truly is my happy place. There’s something about watching the never-ending cycle of waves crashing onto the beach — or even when the sea is merely gently caressing the shore — that calms me. Restores me. Nourishes my soul. Reminds me that my Creator God is likewise constant, consistent, dependable, steady.
But sometimes the sea can be frightening. Overpowering. An adversary to be subdued rather than an ally to be enjoyed. Watching a storm from the safety of the shore is vastly different from being in the midst of the angry waves, tossed to and fro at the mercy of nature. Add to that being pelted by rain or sleet or snow. Lightning flashing. Darkness that engulfs and disorients. Feeling like there is no escaping destruction and loss of life.
There’s a story in the New Testament of the Bible about a sea voyage that took place in the first century. It was a journey that started in Caesarea (on the eastern-most shore of the Mediterranean Sea) and eventually ended in Rome (complete opposite direction).
The journey was a challenging one from the start. It started late in the season for sea travel. The initial small vessel wasn’t adequate for the open-sea voyage. Stormy winds blew them off course before they had gotten halfway. The wind was “tempestuous,” which is how we refer to a northeaster in today’s parlance. Such storms appear suddenly, often with violent, whirling winds. They had to stop and take shelter several times.
An additional problem was that the vessel was transporting a man named Paul. He was a God-fearing man who was on his way to Rome to stand trial before Caesar. Paul had warned the captain and crew that the journey would more than likely result in the loss of the ship, cargo, and lives. His warning went unheeded.
They went without food for fourteen days. They had to jettison the cargo. Then they had to get rid of the ship’s tackle. Some of the crew panicked and wanted to escape using the ship’s dingy. BUT Paul warned that doing so would put everyone in jeopardy.
Soon afterwards the vessel ran aground and the stern broke apart in the surf. None of the 276 men on board were lost… but the journey wasn’t over yet! They were only as far as the island of Malta.
… the rest of the story is for another time…
Paul had an unshakeable belief that IF those on the ship did what he suggested all would go well.
… the God to whom I belong and worship…said,
Acts 27: 23-26
“Do not be afraid, Paul;
you must stand before Caesar.
And… you and all who sail with you [will be safe.]”
So take heart, men,
for I have faith in God
that it will be exactly as I have been told.
But we must run aground on some island.
Note that he didn’t say that it would be smooth sailing. But rather in the midst of the storm, all would be well.
Sometimes life feels like being in a storm. We start our journey well… and then “stuff” happens that blows us off course. We lose our bearings. We feel as though we’re being pummeled from all sides with the relentless intensity of circumstances out of our control. Hopelessness and fear engulf us. In our panic, we jettison those things that normally would help keep us upright.
I am not afraid of storms
Louisa May Alcott, from her book “Little Women”
for I am learning how to sail my ship.
From my perspective, it seems that sometimes being “blown off course” is actually more of a detour, a way God uses to get me where He wants me — in HIS timing, not mine. Wanting to jump ship, to try to figure things out and manipulate the results usually is counter-productive. In all honesty, I can feel overwhelmed. Abandoned. Fearful. Hopeless. But the more I get to know God, the more I realize that He is a loving Father who is with me in the midst of the storms, never abandoning me. Never wishing me harm. Wanting me to trust that HE is in control. He has His hand on the rudder and will guide me safely to port.
I’m learning to not be afraid of life’s storms. I’m learning how to sail my ship. I’m learning that wherever my ship goes — by whatever circuitous route, in whatever time frame — I’m not alone.
And may that become true for you as well, dear reader, so that together we may have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”
to read more about this sea voyage, see Acts 27:1 – 28:14
Joy in the Journey 