I have been in this raft for six months now. My family is with me, and we are in the middle of the ocean. The supplies ran out about a month ago. And I am lost. For five solid months I have been paddling like a mad man! Eyes glued to the horizon, desperate for a sign of land, or for another ship to come by.
God put me in this raft. Six months ago He sunk the ship I was on (told me he would) and put my family into this dinky little boat. Things were ok at first, we had supplies and we had time to take some precious possessions, and I thought... "Ok, well, God put us here, won't be long now and another ship will sail by." So eyes glued to the horizon I calmly started rowing a little, a few pushes here, a few strokes there, we're ok, we have all we need. Any second now I will see something and we can head towards it. A week goes by, still calm, even trying to enjoy this adventure a little. A month goes by, now getting nervous, paddling a little more, singing hymns and songs of praise to keep up spirits, because mine is the one in need of lifting.
After two months of this I am now paddling like crazy. I have had a lot to say to God, and He has had a lot to say back. He's telling me crazy stuff like, "Stop rowing," "I have you, I have your family." But I don't see any hope in sight! The supplies are running low and we are taking on water, and I see storm clouds in the distance! To Hell with, "Stop rowing," we need land! I am rowing to every speck on the horizon, praying that it be a ship, or land, or anything! I have paddled north, south, east and west, probably making a big circle, but I am relentless! I will save my family!
My family... God bless them, they are watching me struggle, and strive and try so hard to save us. They know God put us here too. My wife tries to calm me, It's ok," she says, "God has us, He has to do something, He didn't bring us out here to die!" But I see the strain in her eyes, hear her fear, see how hard this has been on her. So I will paddle harder, I will work this out! Beth sees all the luggage in the boat, sees how some of it is tearing holes, letting in the ocean. Me, I just see the horizon, the empty horizon, and those dark clouds. She gets to work, trying to throw off some of the weight, and keep the water from coming in... should she? I don't know... I don't know anything anymore.
Me, I just keep on pushing. It's now four months of this madness. Supplies are down to scraps, Beth is bravely bailing water, and my heart is broken! "WHERE ARE YOU GOD?!" I scream, shaking my paddle at the sky! "Why have to put us here!?" He answers, "Don't you trust Me?" "I want this for you." "Can't you trust Me?" He tells me hundreds of things, "I am the calmer of the storm, ride with me!" He says. "I can bring you all the supplies you need, but I will bring them in my time and my way." "You will walk on air, you will walk on water." "for I know the plans I have for you." He's showing me signs and miracles! He is displaying His power over and over again... but it's not land, it's not a boat. We are still here.
I hang my head in shame. "I don't trust you," I say. The supplies are gone now, were at the end of ourselves. Six months of an ever increasing God and an ever diminishing world. "I trusted in my own strength," I realize. And now I don't know what to do! Every now and then I catch a glimpse of something on the horizon, I lift my oar, but with resignation realize there was nothing there, and don't even bother to paddle. My heart is broken, because I know I would have rather been a slave on that ship, then in this place of frantic desperation. I know how much that must hurt my God to know. I see my wife still bailing, trying hard to encourage me to do the right thing. I see her looking at the horizon too.
What must I do! How do I sit! Wait! TRUST! When all I relied upon is gone!? When all I knew to be true has been stripped away! When all I held onto has been replaced by a God I do not understand. I grip my oar, determined to NOT paddle unless you tell me too.
Tonight You tell me to throw my oar into the ocean.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment