Raise Your Sails

Have you ever heard something from God that made you feel like you were wearing your insides on your outside? Six months ago, that’s what happened to me. As my pastor spoke, it was like everything he said was meant specifically for me from God. (You can listen to it here.) The pastor talked to us about wind, and God talked to me about water. I got out my journal to write down what He said. It went like this:

“I see you: I see how tired you are from rowing in the storm for so long. Sail with Me!”

But, God, I’ve been rowing for so long I don’t know how to do anything else. I’ve known wave after wave of oppression trying to flip my boat and hold me under. Destructive forces have pulled back and forth, up and down, in and out of my vessel. My sails have been tattered since the day I was born. I HAD to paddle against it, or I would drown. 

“I see you: I see the courage it has taken to paddle into the wind and against the current.” 

If you see me so clearly, then why haven’t you calmed the storm?! Why haven’t you parted my Red Sea?!

“I don’t always calm the storm or part the sea. Think about the other ways I did impossible things with water. 

“At creation, I told the sea where it begins and ends. In Noah’s day, I let that same sea overflow the boundaries I had set for it. It broke my heart, but I needed to give my beloved ones a fresh start. When Moses led the Hebrews out of Egypt, I split the sea in two so my people could escape from slavery. As they faced overwhelming thirst in the wilderness, I brought clean water out of rocks in the desert for them to drink. I have led my weary flock in green pastures by still waters. I gave Elijah a hiding place near the brook in the desert of his deep depression. I saved the dignity of the bride’s family when I turned the water into wine. Twice I almost sank a fisherman’s boat with more fish than they could have ever imagined.  I spoke to the storm at sea and in an instant the waters were like a glassy lake at dawn. I shared news of living water and acceptance with the Samaritan woman who was despised and rejected by her community. I showed Peter how to walk by faith on top of the waves.

“Water always responds to my voice, just as I respond to yours. Don’t miss my answer to your prayer because you were looking for a parted sea when I offered fresh water for your thirsty soul to drink. Don’t miss my answer because you expected to walk on the waves, but find I have invited your weary soul to rest by still waters instead. Don’t miss my answer because you wanted the storm to be calmed, but I am calling you to stay in the storm and raise your sails. Let my Spirit give you new sails and fill you with fresh wind–it won’t be the same as what you’re used to. These sails you can trust to take you where you need to go. This wind will not try to drown you or damage your sails. I will give you just the right amount of ballast to keep you upright without weighing you down. Lament–let go, and come sail with Me!”

Losing a family court battle that lasted over five years and cost thousands of dollars was not the storm-calming miracle I had hoped for. Sending my children off to their abuser every week is not the Red-Sea-splitting plan I had in mind. It’s easy to look around at other survivors and become jealous when I see that they got to walk across to freedom on dry land. Their storm was calm a lot sooner than mine. Their kids are safe and able to recover. Maybe I just needed to document more, present more effectively on the witness stand, or maybe I should have taken that “how to defeat a narcissist in court” class I saw on instagram? That mom got her kids to safety. Maybe I can just. row. harder.

Or, I can set sail, choosing to look for God outside of my expectations. What if a fractured hip on one x-ray turning into nothing on the next was my son’s cool drink in the desert? What if both of my kids having discernment about their dad’s behaviors that makes no sense at their age is our walking-on-water? What if God wants to nearly sink my boat with blessings or sail to places others have never been? It’s kind of hard for him to do that if I’m rowing in the other direction on my own or standing hopelessly on the shore demanding the sea to split. Maybe I was never meant for a dry land exit from my situation because he has something better than I ever expected.

Not only have I spent my whole life rowing into the wind against the current in my own strength, I have also gotten mad at God because his miracles didn’t look the way I wanted them to. Still, he responds to my voice. Still, he pulls me along, his presence the wind in my sails. He loves my laments…when I bring to him my shattered hope, broken expectations, and cry out to him to make it better. It makes me cry every time I have read and re-read this conversation aloud, and I hope it sticks with you like it has with me.

I don’t know exactly what “raising my sails” looks like for right now in real life, but I think it has less to do with figuring out all the answers and a lot more to do with moment by moment trust.