Implicit Trust

“If a man will resign himself in implicit trust to the Lord Jesus, he will find that He leads the wayfaring soul into the green pastures and beside the still waters, so that even when he goes hrough the dark valley of the shadow of some staggering episode, he will fear no evil. Nothing in life or death, time or eternity, can stagger a soul from the certainty of the Way, for one moment” (Oswald Chambers, Run Today’s Race).

That’s what I want — implicit trust in Jesus, no matter what. Lately, I find that my faith comes and goes like the ocean tides advancing and retreating, rising and ebbing. One moment, I am calm and collected and the next I am inwardly freaking out. Too often, my faith is too tied in to my emotions.

But the true saint of God has a steady faith. Or at least he or she is moving toward one. The hindrance to the necessary resignation of the soul to the ways of the Lord is the illusion of control that we cling to. The more I think I somehow can help God out or speed up His timeline, the more inclined I am to fret and worry.

I still love Corrie ten Boom’s imagery of staying on the train that’s going through a dark tunnel. Of course, you don’t leap off the train in the middle of the tunnel. You sit still and trust the engineer. But in the midst of life’s dark passages, it’s easy to want to go AWOL on God. But what’s the alternative? Lostness and the dark?

Lord, grow my faith. Help me to take my tiny mustard seed faith and put it in Your hands so that I can rest in Your promises and plans for me. Help me to know with my whole being that You are still working all things together for my good. Amen.

My Eye on the Goal

I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back” (Philippians 3:12-14, The Message).

That’s the key, isn’t it. Keeping my eye on the goal?

But what does that look like? Anymore, there’s no such thing as working 40 years for one company and retiring with a gold watch and a pension. The average person will work for several different places across many types of jobs over his or her lifetime.

But what is the goal then? If you read the Apostle Paul in other places, he talks about keeping our eyes on Christ. To keep your eyes on Christ is to keep your eyes on the goal, because Christ is the goal. Not retirement. Not comfortable living. Not a pension. Jesus is the goal.

Not only that but Christ is the means to that goal. Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount that the poor in spirit are blessed because the Kingdom of God is theirs. That means those of us who know we have nothing to offer God are blessed because we have nowhere to turn and nowhere to lean but on Jesus and the promises of God.

Still, it’s quite easy to get distracted by all the shiny baubles of the world. It’s easy in the midst of a storm to focus on the wind and the waves and take our eyes off of the Master of those winds and waves. We are so easily distracted and forgetful, which is why we need the constant reminder of keeping our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.

How do we keep our eyes on Jesus? By preaching the gospel to ourselves at least once a day every day. We need to remember that we’re sinners in need of a Savior. We need to remember that salvation comes through faith by means of repentance and trust in the finished work of Jesus on the cross. We need to remember that we’re saved by faith alone, not by any works or good deeds of ours. We need to remember that Jesus promised that those who trust God with their lives would receive eternal abundant life not just in the hereafter but in the here and now.

May you and I never stop encouraging each other, especially in these last days, to keep our eyes on Jesus as the goal of everything we do and everything we are.

Peter, Peter, Peter

 “As soon as the meal was finished, he insisted that the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side while he dismissed the people. With the crowd dispersed, he climbed the mountain so he could be by himself and pray. He stayed there alone, late into the night.

Meanwhile, the boat was far out to sea when the wind came up against them and they were battered by the waves. At about four o’clock in the morning, Jesus came toward them walking on the water. They were scared out of their wits. ‘A ghost!’ they said, crying out in terror.

But Jesus was quick to comfort them. ‘Courage, it’s me. Don’t be afraid.’

Peter, suddenly bold, said, ‘Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.’

He said, ‘Come ahead.’

Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, ‘Master, save me!’

Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, ‘Faint-heart, what got into you?’

The two of them climbed into the boat, and the wind died down. The disciples in the boat, having watched the whole thing, worshiped Jesus, saying, ‘This is it! You are God’s Son for sure!'” (Matthew 14:22-33, The Message).

I’ve been thinking about Peter, the disciple with the chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease. He got into trouble by saying things and acting out without really thinking it through. Not that any of us can relate, right?

He often gets a bad rap for the whole sinking bit. After Jesus calls him to walk on water, he gets so far out and sees the waves and panics and . . . . down he goes. Only a fast-acting Jesus keeps Peter from sleeping with the fishes. Literally.

But for a moment or two, Peter walked on water. Other than Jesus Himself, Peter is the only other in history who can make that claim.

While it’s easy to chide Peter for taking his eyes off Jesus, you have to give him kudos for getting out of the boat in the first place. After all, there were eleven other disciples who stayed put.

Peter left everything he knew, everything that was comfortable, and everything that made sense in that moment to come to where Jesus was. To me, failure would have been Peter staying in the boat and saying, “No thanks, Jesus. I’m fine. Really.”

I can relate to the other disciples. It’s easy to stay in the boat and criticize the ones who try to get out and do something. It’s easy to sit where you have something tangible to hold onto in the middle of raging waves.

But that kind of faith never gets you anywhere. It’s the faith that takes risks, that takes that step of faith out into the scary unknown, that leads us to where Jesus is. That’s the faith that takes us to places where we see the impossible becoming reality.

Lord, I want that kind of faith that Peter had in that moment. I want to step out of the boat, get my feet wet, and make fool of myself if it will help get me a little closer to You.

Amen.

 

Sleeping in a Storm

image

I was recently reading over a very familiar passage in Matthew 8 where Jesus calms the storm. I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve either read that story or had it read to me.

The scene opens with Jesus and the disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in a boat. It’s a calm sea, nothing unusual or unexpected. Suddenly, out of nowhere, hurricane winds start rocking the boat and the disciples start majorly freaking out. Like I would probably have done. I’m sure there was some hyperventilating and breathing into paper bags.

They find Jesus sleeping in the boat. I guess that’s not hard to imagine, since Jesus is likely exhausted from a very full day of ministry and teaching. Plus, He undoubtedly has been up all night praying.

What gets me is what I read today in a commentary. It said that one of the signs of true trust in God is being able to sleep in the midst of trouble. Like Jesus slept in the storm.

Jesus more than anyone modeled perfect trust and faith in His Heavenly Father. That allowed Him to sleep in the midst of crashing waves and strong winds.

I think the point of the story isn’t how Jesus keeps His children out of storms, but how He is with them during these storms. And just like the disciples, we end up finding out that Jesus really is in control of the wind and the waves and our lives.

I’m sure that if I got the easy, comfortable life I’ve often longed for, my faith would be weak and worthless. I’d never have front row seats to see how Jesus has faithfully come through for me in every crisis and storm and trial.

So I guess I’m thankful even for those storms. That’s where I learned just how close Jesus is to those who cry out to Him.

Storms Revisited

image
“Never dread any consequence resulting from absolute obedience to His command. Never fear the rough waters ahead, which through their proud contempt impede your progress. God is greater than the roar of raging water and the mighty waves of the sea. ‘The Lord sits enthroned as King forever’ (Psalm 29:10). A storm is simply the hem of His robe, the sign of His coming, and the evidence of His presence.” (F. B. Meyer)

Wow. I never thought of storms that way. Either literally or figuratively.

I always thought of God going before the storm, being with me during the storm, and waiting for me after the storm. I never thought of the storm itself being a sign of His presence.

I’m wondering something else. Whenever I picture a storm, I see grieving parents hovering over the coffin of their dead child or a father holding foreclosure papers in his trembling hands. But maybe storms come in less noticeable ways.

Could a storm be that dull dread day after day that never seems to depart? Could a storm be the rut you’ve been stuck in for years that never seems to alter or change?

Some storms come and wipe off the land. Some come and go with no evidence they were ever there. But they are felt just the same.

Storms end. Dark clouds give way to sunshine. The waters eventually subside. Yet God remains.

I had some grand way I was going to tie all this together so that you would think me ever so wise, but it never materialized. All I know is that for every storm that comes, God is just as present. And He’ll still be there after the storm leaves.

These are not the most profound words I’ve ever written, but maybe someone out there who is holding on for dear life or merely dreading the monotony of the next day, these words will be something to cling to. I don’t know.

I know God is bigger than any storm. He still speaks and the winds and waves still have to obey. That’s all I know for now.

Starry Beach Nights

Tonight, I took a short walk on the beach. It was great.

I had a t-shirt and shorts and a flashlight, so I could avoid stepping on anything sharp or living. At least that was my plan and it worked well for the most part.

It was a beautiful night. There were more stars out than I have seen in a long time and a cool ocean breeze was blowing in my direction. The sand and ocean water felt good on my feet.

I was alone on the beach and I felt currents of peace wash over me. I didn’t walk very far or stay out there long, but I stayed long enough.

Sometimes, you just need to get away from all the noise and the distractions and the hurry and find a place where you can be still and quiet and breathe. It doesn’t have to be the beach, but a place where you feel peaceful and at rest. A place where you can hear the still small voice of God.

When I get back home, I will find mine. I know I need to hear from God on a daily basis to keep my sanity and to know what to do next. Sometimes, I need to be able to still the other voices that clamor and contradict each other and tell me every way to go but the right way.

My prayer is that both you and I find those places where God speaks. My prayer is that we have open ears to hear and willing hearts to obey what we hear.

I think I’ll sleep good tonight.