Peace, Be Still

Our little boat is taking on water. This post is going to allow me to vent (remember, this blog began as a way to work through my"stuff"), so some of you may want to come back to the blog another day.

Bill and I are literally sinking. We face a good chance of losing everything that we make monthly payments on. It kind of feels like we are swimming in shark infested water. The people that we owe money to seem to be coming in for the kill.

I know we have made BIG mistakes. Neither Bill nor I have ever been good or knowledgeable when it comes to money. I say this because I don't want to place blame where it shouldn't be placed.

Right now we are facing a different kind of Katrina. And these winds and waves feel just as devastating, if not more so. I remember in one of the cards we received after Katrina, by cousin Carole wrote these simple words, "The winds and the waves still obey His will." That's what I'm clinging to. God has us in a storm right now, but we aren't in it alone. We have lifejackets on and we trust our Captain. What we do need, however, are prayers from the saints. If you would, could you ask God to give us His wisdom and strength to go through what we must go through because we have no jobs.

Imagine my delight when I opened my devotional this morning. God knew exactly what I needed to face another day. It's written by Max Lucado (one of my favorite authors because of his simplistic style and vivid word-pictures. I think I try to emulate him in my writing style!)

In God We (Nearly) Trust by Max Lucado

A few days before our wedding, Denalyn and I enjoyed and endured a sailing voyage. Milt, a Miami church friend, had invited Denalyn, her mom, and me to join him and a few others on a leisurely cruise along the Florida coast.

Initially it was just that. Leisure. We stretched out on cushions, hung feet over the side, caught some zzz's and rays. Nice.

But then came the storm. The sky darkened, the rain started, and the flat ocean humped like a dragon's neck. Sudden waves of water tilted the vessel up until we saw nothing but sky and then downward until we saw nothing but blue. I learned this about sailing: there is nothing swell about a swell. Tanning stopped. Napping ceased. Eyes turned first to the thunderclouds, then to the captain. We looked to Milt.
He was deliberate and decisive. He told some people where to sit, others what to do, and all of us to hang on. And we did what he said. Why? We knew he knew best. No one else knew the difference between starboard and stern. Only Milt did. We trusted him. We knew he knew.
And we knew we didn't.

Prior to the winds, we might have boasted about Boy Scout merit badges in sailing or bass-boat excursions. But once the storm hit, we shut up. (Except for Denalyn, who threw up.) We had no choice but to trust Milt. He knew what we didn't--and he cared. The vessel was captained, not by a hireling or a stranger, but by a pal. Our safety mattered to him. So we trusted him.

Oh, that the choice were equally easy in life. Need I remind you about your westerly winds? With the speed of lightning and the force of a thunderclap, williwaws anger tranquil waters. Victims of sudden storms populate unemployment lines and ICU wards. You know the winds. You've felt the waves. Good-bye, smooth sailing. Hello, rough waters.

Such typhoons test our trust in the Captain. Does God know what he is doing? Can he get us out? Why did he allow the storm?
Can you say about God what I said about Milt? I know God knows what's best. I know I don't. I know he cares.

Such words come easily when the water is calm. But when you're looking at a wrecked car or a suspicious-looking mole, when war breaks out or thieves break in, do you trust him?

To embrace God's sovereignty is to drink from the well of his lordship and make a sailboat-in-the-storm decision. Not in regard to Milt and the sea, but in regard to God and life. You look toward the Captain and resolve: he knows what's best.

Thank you in advance for lifting Bill and I up in prayer. Love you all...