Little Boats

When I think about my life, it’s never been the big, grandiose moments, the successes, the accomplishments, the really big endeavors that have made a difference in my faith.  If I am honest, it’s been in the whisper-prayers that echoed from a desperate place, the simple cry for help, the brokenness of total surrender. 

Hurricane Ike made landfall in September of 2008 and was possibly the worst storm I have ever witnessed.  I remember lying in bed feeling so scared, so unsure of what was to come.  Questions circled in my mind.  Are we in danger?  Will we be hurt? Will our new roof hold up in the 100 mph winds?  Will our home suffer damage?  How long will it last?  Are we prepared for this type of storm?  Should we have left town with everyone else?

Even though the winds ceased soon after, a storm in my own life had just begun and it would last much longer than a few hours.    A storm that brought high winds and torrential rain; a storm that would force me to my knees; one that would make me face fears buried deep inside of me. A new set of questions began to develop, but really they were the same.  Will our marriage hold up through this storm?  Will we be hurt?  What will it cost?  How long will it last?  Are we prepared for this type of storm?  Should we follow the crowd or climb into the boat? 

I’ve spent a lot of time lately parked in Mark chapter 4.  I’ve been here day after day after day.  Seven quick verses describe a furious storm.  But rather than study the storm itself, Jesus has had me focused on the two seemingly insignificant verses that are the calm before the storm.

On the same day, when evening had come, [Jesus] said to them, “Let us cross over to the other side.” Now when they had left the multitude, they took Him along in the boat as He was. And other little boats were also with Him.

Mark 4:35-36 (NKJV)

Jesus makes mention of “the other side” twenty three times in the four gospels combined.  The Greek word is peran, which means “beyond.”  It is a word that marks direction.*   “Let us go beyond…”  Jesus spoke these words to his disciples after a long day of teaching a vast number of people gathered near the water.  At one point, the crowd grew so large that He got into a boat and sat in it out on the lake while all the people listened from the shore.  And then after a long day, He instructed His disciples to move the boat to the other side of the lake.

I may not know much about boats or sailing or even rowing, but I do know this: I’m not so sure about climbing into a boat at dusk.   I know there was no weather ap back in Jesus’ day, but I am pretty sure that the storm did not just appear unexpectedly.  There had to be some kind of cloud activity, wind indicator, or something that warned these men of the imminent danger.

Another sign that this was a risky move was the fact that they were literally moving away from the crowd.   The multitude?  They were heading for shelter.  You wouldn’t find them out on the water!  Ever notice when you take a step out from the crowd how risky it really is?  And yet, other little boats were also with Him.  Right here, in this rather insignificant verse, are men and women who were desperate to follow Jesus wherever He went, even if it meant climbing into a boat in the dark and sailing straight into a coming storm.

I am fascinated by this verse that I am sure I’ve never even read before.  I haven’t ever heard a sermon on “little boats” or read a book about who was riding in them.  But I know what it’s like to ride out a horrible storm in a little bitty boat.  I’ve spent years in a tiny boat, being rocked back and forth by the waves, and during that time God showed me that I spent way too long staring at the approaching storm and way too much energy gasping at the pummeling waves and fierce wind that accompanied them. 

The word used for little boats, ploiarion, means “small vessels.” * This is the only verse that speaks of these followers of Jesus.  The story continues with the anticipated storm, and as Mark shares the severity of it, no further mention is made of the little boats and those inside of them who pushed away from the crowd and stepped out in faith to follow Jesus.  However, I do believe that the miracle that took place out on the open sea was not only witnessed by the disciples in the boat with Jesus, but by those who ventured beyond their comfort zone and said yes to Him, though they could see the storm in the distance.  I’ve often wondered why Jesus would guide them straight into the storm.  But then I lived through a storm that threatened to engulf me and I watched as the Voice of the One I love spoke with authority right before my eyes.  And that experience has given me the courage to get back into that teeny tiny boat again and again and again, following Jesus right into the middle of a storm.

And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. 

Mark 4: 37

This was one intense storm.  The word Mark used to describe the action of the waves is the Greek word epiballō, translated as “beat.”  It means the rushing of waves into a ship. If “flash flood” was a term that existed back then, I’m sure it could be applied here. Interestingly, this word is also used to describe seizing someone to lead him/her off as a prisoner.*  Fear does just that.  It wraps chains around us and leads us off as prisoners.  In fact, Jesus later connects the disciples’ fear with their lack of faith.

All of us who follow Jesus sit in a boat of some sort.  Some are large ships, others are rickety canoes.  The boats don’t matter and we need not compare them.  It’s the same wind that causes the same storm which makes the same open sea terrifying.  It’s funny how we think our storms are so different.  We tend to think we can only reach out to those who are literally sitting in a boat we’ve sat in.  But the storms in each of our lives magnify the fact that we are not in control.  Storms cause the same reaction: fear.  And fear often dredges up the same accusations that reveal a weak faith:  “Jesus, don’t you care if I drown?”  You see, Jesus was sleeping while this storm threatened the lives of the disciples and surely those in the smaller boats who left the safety of the shore behind.  Not only was Jesus sleeping, but He was snoozing on a pillow!  I have to say that I would have reacted the same way the frightened disciples did.  I wish it were not so, but I have asked that very same question from the confines of my small boat that was quickly filling with water.

Then [Jesus] arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

Mark 4:39

Jesus never answered the question that painted Him as uncaring, aloof or nonchalant.  Instead, He calmed the sea with a word then asked the disciples a question:  “Why are you so afraid?  Do you still have no faith?”  I believe that Jesus knew the answer had something to do with the fact that they still did not quite know Him.  In fact, the last verse of this short story suggests just that.

And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, “Who can this be, that even the wind and the sea obey Him!”

Mark 4:41

“Who is this?” they asked each other, hinting that they were only just beginning to see Jesus.  Storms will do that- strengthen our faith.  Not only does our faith grow, but our view of who Jesus is expands when we see Him command the wind and the waves.  As we shout out our frantic questions, accusing Him of not being there and leading us straight into a hurricane, He remains calm.  He is not fazed.  He teaches us what He led us to sea to teach us and then He confronts our fear.  As we see and understand more and more of this Jesus, those fears start to seem less and less.  Why is that?  From my own experience, I can say it has a lot to do with where we look.  During a particular storm- one that wreaked havoc on my heart- I was way too focused on the waves.  Now I know where to look- at Jesus’ face.  Fears still surface.  Questions bubble up.  But a single, quick glance at the One who calms the sea will push those fears aside, causing them to fade into the background.  Present, but not overwhelming.  Existing, yet not consuming.  Jesus told us we’d have trouble in this world and lumped into that, I believe, is a fair dose of fear.  But Jesus says, “Take courage, for I have overcome the world.” 

Jesus offers the anecdote for fear: hope.   Look up the word “hope” and you’ll find this listed as a synonym: “free from fear.”  Jesus is Hope.  Hope comes in all different forms.  The lifeline thrust into the water is a rope of hope, sturdy and sure.  The lighthouse on the shore is a beacon of hope, projecting truth onto uncertain waters.  We spend so much of our time asking God to calm the storm, but it is in the middle of the storm that we discover the beauty of who He really is.

*Greek meanings taken from STRONG’s Numbers, blueletterbible.org

Sweet Payback

Today my little man woke up and asked, “My dress on, Mommy?” 

Jake has this crazy quirk of demanding that he get dressed as soon as he hops out of bed.  We’ve argued, negotiated, and reached an agreement that only after Momma has finished her first cup of coffee will we proceed with the Wardrobe Selection Battle.  (And that agreement was a huge breakthrough, let me tell you.) 

His usual requested attire: tractor shirt, jeans and cowboy boots

Now that summer is here, we’ve made some slight changes: tractor shirt, jean shorts, and boots

Most mornings I choose two shirts and two bottoms and he gets to pick the shirt and pants he wants to wear.  (This does not always go smoothly, hence the name Wardrobe Selection Battle.  Some mornings, I just go straight to the tractor shirt and jeans just to see his little face light up.  Other mornings, I can’t muster up the effort to stand there waiting for ten minutes while he tries to choose, so I dig the tractor t-shirt out of the dirty clothes.  (I have retrieved this t-shirt out of the pile of stinky clothes many, many mornings.)  I knew we had a problem when his preschool teacher said to me earlier this spring, “Jake sure does love his tractor shirt.  He said you got it for him.”  I corrected her, saying, “Oh no, what he means is that Mommy got it out of the dirty clothes hamper this morning because he was in tears and so was she.” 

I know exactly what he meant this morning when he said, “My dress on, Mommy.”  What he wanted to say was somewhere between “I want to get dressed,” and “Will you help me put my clothes on?” 

Despite the fact that I know exactly what he meant, I’m holding onto this one, tucking it away for a later date.  It's little things like this that make all those difficult mornings worth all of the effort.  Like a return on my investment.  Or is it payback?  I'm not really sure, but I do love my little guy to pieces, strong will and all!

My Cup Overflows

It is summer and I know I should be thrilled and downright overjoyed to spend lots and lots of unscheduled days with my two soon-to-be three year olds.  Part of me is over the moon excited, but that part is somewhere close to twenty percent.  (Okay, ten percent.)  The other eighty (or ninety) percent of this momma is stressed out and dreading those rainy days and one-hundred-degrees-plus days and days like today where laundry is the big crescendo.   I shudder to think that my kids only get along for an average of ten minutes and that’s on a good day!  I cringe when I think about all the effort it takes to cover my table with plastic, whip out the paint, masking tape and construction paper just to have Jake tell me “my done” after thirty seconds. 

This morning I confessed all of this to Jesus, while at the same time thanking Him for the tremendous blessing He plopped in my lap just three short years ago.  I was honest when I told Him that I wonder some days if I’m cut out for all of this mothering stuff.  Why else do I feel such dread when I gaze at our usually cluttered calendar and see box after box of white, empty space?

After pouring out my heart, I picked up my pen and made a list of things I could do with my kids.  Things that they would enjoy and I would enjoy, then I prayed I’d have my sanity intact by the time I checked off each one. 

Read a book

Play hopscotch in the driveway

Have a picnic lunch

Have a tea party with real water on the back porch

Paint a picture (even though I know Jake will only last about thirty seconds)

When I was done with my list, I smiled to myself thinking, “This is going to be good.” 
Let me tell you how my day has gone so far:

READ A BOOK:  In two separate accidents, both kids (I promise I am not making this up) peed all over the bathroom floor and all over the basket of books I keep in there for potty training.  So we skipped to the next activity on the list while we let our books dry out…

HOPSCOTCH:  Jake cried when I took a piece of chalk out of his bucket to make the hopscotch squares and Lilly tripped and skinned her knee two minutes later hopping from square to square.  She cried too.

PAINT:  Jake lasted only thirty seconds.

PICNIC LUNCH:  Lilly asked me ten times for peanut butter even though I told her ten times it was already on her plate.

TEA PARTY:  After filling up pitchers with water, both kids poured and poured and poured until their entire pitcher was poured out all over the table outside.  (Apparently, tea kettles with make believe tea inside them are much easier to control!)

Somewhere between the pee, the tears, the empty pitchers and overflowing cups, I realized that I had to teach Jake and Lilly when to stop pouring.  So we started over and I showed them how to stop right before the water got to the top of the cup.  They watched and listened, then I filled up their pitchers again and they tried on their own.   

And then it happened: twenty glorious minutes of pouring out water into two tiny teacups and then dumping it back in the pitcher to start all over again.   No talking.  No yelling.  No crying.  No fighting.  No whining.  Just pouring and filling, pouring and filling.  

 

In the silence that is so, so sacred these days, I whispered a “thank you” to Jesus. 

Thank you for this quiet moment.

Thank you for trusting me to teach these kids simple things like when to stop pouring water into a tiny little tea cup and huge, life changing things like what it looks like to follow You.

Thank you for giving me this glimpse of what it looks like to be poured out, thinking I don’t have enough, only to discover that my cup is overflowing with blessing.

Thank you for filling my cup so that I can pour it out.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 

Psalm 23:5

  

Late To the Party

Yes, I joined Facebook in 2013.  I showed up late to the party and this post will hopefully explain where I’ve been.  While everyone else was talking about the newest, biggest thing, I was in no mood to party.  I was mourning the loss of this perfect little plan that I had worked so, so hard to create.  About six years ago, God grabbed the plan I had scripted and began to revise it.  When His red correcting pen touched my life, I was not too happy.  In fact, when I looked at the marks He was making, I got angry.  He began to add parts I did not wish to include.  He crossed out parts that I was sure were necessary to my happiness.

And so began this journey with Jesus- a journey that brought me through the anger, through the pain, through the waiting, loss and grief to a place of peace and a place of freedom with a whole new identity.  When I uttered a teeny tiny little prayer, I had no idea that it had the power to change my life so drastically.  I was in a place of desperation, and I felt completely alone.  I have been talking to Jesus since I was a little girl, but it wasn’t until I hit the lowest point of my entire life that I told Him I was done trying to do it without Him.  I loved Him, but I had never trusted Him enough to give Him every single part of my life.  I had gripped that well written plan so tightly that He had to lift my fingers off of it, one by one, and it took some time! 

I decided to trust that He was not destroying my plan with all those red marks but instead He was making it better.  Slowly, I would hand over every part of my life to Him to use as He pleased.  This journey with Jesus was so much more than a freedom walk.  I began to realize that never before had I really seen myself the way He sees me.  He began to show me in amazing and crazy ways who I was… in Him.  I felt like a new person, like I had been given a new name, but I was still Kelly.  About six weeks ago, it finally made sense to me.  I had not been given a new name, but I had been given new eyes to see who God had named me thirty two years ago, on the day I was born. 

So many times throughout this journey I’ve prayed, asking Him if I was ready to go to the party.  And for so long, His reply has been, “Child, that won’t be good for you.”  After getting the same response over and over again, I figured that He meant it would never be good for me.  He knows me and all the insecurity I’ve been hauling around with me for way too long, so when He said “no,” I said “ok.”  God intentionally kept me from it so that I would trust what He was doing in my life, instead of being so caught up in what He was doing in everyone else’s lives. 

The thing I love about our God is that we will never come to place in life where we figure Him out… not ever!  And so, to answer the question that everyone is asking me:  I came late to the party because my Daddy said I was finally ready to go.  I know some people will read this and think, “She just waited until she got her life together.”  To which I chuckle and say, “Hardly.  There is nothing together about my life.  I’ve just figured out Who holds my life together, and it is a daily decision to put my life in His hands.”