I thought I was fine.
Sure, the whole world seems to have turned upside down on itself over the past month. And yes, having four kids home all day, every day, while two grown-ups try to work and manage homework isn’t ideal. And, yes, I’ve been a little under the weather — likely a random virus, nothing serious. But I’m holed up at home to be on the safe side.
I was fine, totally fine. So I thought.
And then after a long day of work and another hour making a home-cooked dinner, one unnamed thirteen-year-old made one too many critical comments, and I went from okay to out-of-control.
So maybe I’m not so fine after all.
Life has been hard lately with very little rest and recovery. There’s lots of tension and anxiety and chaos. Adults who struggle to physically get all the things done in a twenty-four-hour day are being followed by children who gripe and complain because they have no understanding of all that hangs in the balance. And then there’s the unrelenting news and ever-changing realities, none of which last long enough for any of us to find some solid ground and get our footing.
We’re like too many passengers, crammed into a too-small dingy, thrust out into the wide-open sea and then caught in a furious and terrifying storm:
One day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” So they got into a boat and set out.
As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped,
and they were in great danger. The disciples went and woke him, saying,
“Master, Master, we’re going to drown!”
Luke 8:22-24 (NIV)
I understand the disciples’ panic, their ability to go from okay to out-of-control in the span of seconds. My squall may not come in the form of rain and wind, but it’s just as terrifying, just as damaging. And more often than I want to admit, I’m the source of its sting — in my impatient responses and curt replies, my critical remarks and unforgiveness. When the tension and anxiety and chaos rise, my peace and self-control go down.
And you want to know something else? The funny thing about tension and anxiety and chaos is that the first things we often let go of are the things we need the most:
It seems there isn’t time for it, not enough energy for it.
A few days ago, I realized once again how insecure, irritable, and overwhelmed I felt. It wasn’t so much about world events, moody teenagers, and this cold I can’t shake. It was more about where I was putting my focus in the middle of it all.
I was so caught up in the chaos of the storm I forgot that Jesus was in my boat. And if I wanted to find a way to stay afloat, I needed to remember the only One who could offer me true peace.
So today’s agenda?
Inner quiet (because my house will be anything but quiet)
“Where is your faith?” He asked the disciples (vs. 25). He asks the same of you and me.
And for today, I remember that although my world rocks and the wind roars, my faith is with Jesus. He sits in my boat, even while the storm grows. That means my Peace is with me, right here, right now, no matter what comes.
Our Peace is with us, right here, right now, no matter what comes. -@MicheleCushatt: Click To Tweet