Waiting

WAITING

When evening came, His disciples went down to the sea, got into the boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum.  It was now dark and Jesus had not yet come to them.  The sea became rough and a strong wind was blowing.  John 6:16-18

Who hasn’t been in the boat with disciples?  The wind blows.  The sea is kicking up walls of water.  The roar of the storm is escalating rather than abating.  We pray fervently but Jesus’ arrival on the scene with deliverance on His breath has not yet come.  We are waiting.  We are harnessing our thoughts, taking despair by the throat and speaking words of faith to our disbelief.  God will come.  God is faithful.  God does care.  Even if this storm kills the body, my soul and spirit will live forever in the presence of glory.

I have flown in a lot of bad weather.  Thirty five years of traveling has exposed me to many kinds of weather.  When the plane is in the thickest of storm clouds, pitching badly, my nose is pressed against the window and is scanning the clouds intently.  I’m looking for any sign at all that the clouds are changing, that better conditions are up ahead.  If I can see the edge of the front we’re flying through, I can hold on during bad turbulence.  Better skies are just ahead.  But what of the times there is only black?  There have certainly been many trips like that.

Jesus didn’t appear to the men in the boat when the threat of a storm appeared.  Wouldn’t it have been nice if He had shown up to send the storm away before it ever starting raining?  I’m confident they would have preferred that.  Instead, He waited to appear until things were desperate.  The point is ~ He did come.  He was faithful.  He did deliver them.

What do I do while I wait for better times?  Waiting is excruciating and no one knows that better than Jesus.  He has his own agonizing wait here on earth.  I do three things.  1.) Find scriptures that address my situation, print them out and read them out loud.  2.) Meditate on them constantly.  3.) Review the stories of my spiritual ancestors.  Their victories are mine; their defeats instructive.

There are places where I’m looking for you on the horizon.  I can’t see You yet but I hear Your voice.  As I replay Your words, this is enough.  Save me from unbelief.  In Jesus name, Amen

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