As evening
came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.”
- Mark 4:35 (NLT)
I
LOVE the phrase “the other side.”
Jesus didn't tell them, “Let's go out into the storm.” He said, “Let's cross to the other side.”
The storm happened on the way - that's a huge distinction.
Sometimes God calls us somewhere we've never been before. We say yes, expecting that obedience should somehow make the journey easier—and then suddenly we're in the middle of a storm thinking, Wait a minute. Didn't Jesus tell me to come this way?
Yes.
And He's still in the boat.
The disciples panicked because Jesus was asleep. Don't You care? Don't You see this? Don't You hear us?
I think sometimes we do the same thing. Especially when we have been given direction but we're pretty sure our plan would work better.
We have a fifth-wheel RV that is nearly forty feet long. For the record, I do NOT drive the truck while we're pulling the RV. But I have very seriously considered buying us the matching keychains that say, “I'm sorry for what I said while we were parking the RV.” Because apparently nothing tests a marriage quite like trying to back forty feet of recreational vehicle into a campsite. My job is usually to stand outside and help guide my wonderful husband into the spot. I'm watching the back of the RV, the trees, the picnic table, the hookups, whatever happens to be nearby, while trying to tell him which direction that enormous thing needs to go. And somehow my helpful directions don't always sound quite as helpful from inside the truck. He gets frustrated because he doesn't understand what I'm trying to tell him. I get frustrated because I don't think he's listening to what I'm trying to tell him. So finally I decided I was going to show him. Fine. You tell ME which way to turn the wheels and I'll park it. After a little scoffing—and probably wondering how much our insurance deductible was—he let me climb behind the wheel. And together, we parked it. I've done that exactly twice since we've owned the RV. Turns out, it really IS a lot harder than it looks. Standing outside, I could see exactly where the RV needed to go. From behind the wheel, everything looked different. The truck was turning one direction, the RV was moving another, and every instinct I had seemed to tell me to turn the wheel the opposite direction from where Randy was telling me to turn it. I had to trust the person outside the truck who could see what I couldn't.
There's a lesson in there somewhere.
How many times have we done that with God?
He gives us direction, and we start moving. Then things don't go the way we expected. This can't be right.
Surely I should be going the other direction. God, are You seeing what I'm seeing? Are You even listening?
That's essentially what the disciples were asking Jesus in that boat. The storm was raging. Waves were coming over the sides. They were afraid, and Jesus was sleeping. But Jesus hadn't forgotten where they were going. He had already told them. The other side. They just didn't know what they were going to encounter between here and there.
Neither do we.
Sometimes following God's direction doesn't make sense from where we're sitting. We can't see everything He sees. We may be trying desperately to steer our lives in the direction that feels right while God is saying, Trust Me. Keep going.
And sometimes we're so focused on the storm around us—or the forty-foot RV behind us—that we forget Who is giving the directions.
The disciples eventually reached the other side. Not because there wasn't a storm. Not because they navigated everything perfectly. But because Jesus was with them through it.
The presence of a storm doesn't mean you misunderstood God's direction.
Sometimes the storm is simply between where you are and the other side.
#dailybreadbykitty
Daily Inspiration from the Bible
- Mark 4:35 (NLT)
Jesus didn't tell them, “Let's go out into the storm.” He said, “Let's cross to the other side.”
The storm happened on the way - that's a huge distinction.
Sometimes God calls us somewhere we've never been before. We say yes, expecting that obedience should somehow make the journey easier—and then suddenly we're in the middle of a storm thinking, Wait a minute. Didn't Jesus tell me to come this way?
Yes.
And He's still in the boat.
The disciples panicked because Jesus was asleep. Don't You care? Don't You see this? Don't You hear us?
I think sometimes we do the same thing. Especially when we have been given direction but we're pretty sure our plan would work better.
We have a fifth-wheel RV that is nearly forty feet long. For the record, I do NOT drive the truck while we're pulling the RV. But I have very seriously considered buying us the matching keychains that say, “I'm sorry for what I said while we were parking the RV.” Because apparently nothing tests a marriage quite like trying to back forty feet of recreational vehicle into a campsite. My job is usually to stand outside and help guide my wonderful husband into the spot. I'm watching the back of the RV, the trees, the picnic table, the hookups, whatever happens to be nearby, while trying to tell him which direction that enormous thing needs to go. And somehow my helpful directions don't always sound quite as helpful from inside the truck. He gets frustrated because he doesn't understand what I'm trying to tell him. I get frustrated because I don't think he's listening to what I'm trying to tell him. So finally I decided I was going to show him. Fine. You tell ME which way to turn the wheels and I'll park it. After a little scoffing—and probably wondering how much our insurance deductible was—he let me climb behind the wheel. And together, we parked it. I've done that exactly twice since we've owned the RV. Turns out, it really IS a lot harder than it looks. Standing outside, I could see exactly where the RV needed to go. From behind the wheel, everything looked different. The truck was turning one direction, the RV was moving another, and every instinct I had seemed to tell me to turn the wheel the opposite direction from where Randy was telling me to turn it. I had to trust the person outside the truck who could see what I couldn't.
There's a lesson in there somewhere.
How many times have we done that with God?
He gives us direction, and we start moving. Then things don't go the way we expected. This can't be right.
Surely I should be going the other direction. God, are You seeing what I'm seeing? Are You even listening?
That's essentially what the disciples were asking Jesus in that boat. The storm was raging. Waves were coming over the sides. They were afraid, and Jesus was sleeping. But Jesus hadn't forgotten where they were going. He had already told them. The other side. They just didn't know what they were going to encounter between here and there.
Neither do we.
Sometimes following God's direction doesn't make sense from where we're sitting. We can't see everything He sees. We may be trying desperately to steer our lives in the direction that feels right while God is saying, Trust Me. Keep going.
And sometimes we're so focused on the storm around us—or the forty-foot RV behind us—that we forget Who is giving the directions.
The disciples eventually reached the other side. Not because there wasn't a storm. Not because they navigated everything perfectly. But because Jesus was with them through it.
The presence of a storm doesn't mean you misunderstood God's direction.
Sometimes the storm is simply between where you are and the other side.
Daily Inspiration from the Bible