Fight or Flight

I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
I believed, even when I said, “I am severely afflicted.”
– Psalm 116:9-10

And since we have the same spirit of faith in accordance with what is written, I believed, therefore I spoke, we also believe, and therefore speak, knowing that the One who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and present us with you.
-- 2 Corinthians 4:13-14

If you read the verses that precede the ones I’ve quoted from Second Corinthians, you will see that Paul is talking about going through a great trial. He speaks of being pressured, perplexed, persecuted, and pounded.

Every trial I have gone through in the last twenty-five or so years, I have come back to this chapter and read those earlier verses over and over again because, despite being troubled, we don’t have to be distressed. Though we are confused, we need not despair. Even in persecution, we are never abandoned, and being knocked down doesn’t mean we are wiped out. This is endurance. I think of myself as a person who can endure, endure almost anything. Endurance is a virtue – those who endure to the end shall be saved, the Lord tells us.

One who can persevere is like a deeply rooted oak facing the fierce gales of life, remaining strong and in place. Yet there is another way, for it is not only great trees that survive the winds, so do the birds that nest in their branches. Moreover, I have seen the great winged creatures, the hawks, vultures, and eagles face the storm winds and not simply endure but rise higher. A storm that is strong enough can often take down trees, but no wind can bring down the eagle that spreads his wings on its currents.

Endurance combined with an understanding faith enables us to not just survive life’s trials but to rise higher through them. As a kite needs a tail to conquer the winds, our perseverance needs to tie on faith in the face of challenges. That is what the Spirit of God adds to us here in this passage. The Apostle – unlike many who quote his words – knew the context of the statement, “I believed, therefore I spoke”. In the midst of great trouble and affliction, the Psalmist says, even then I believed.

I find that difficulty and stress leave me feeling drained, sometimes bitter, and often angry. This is especially true when the problems come piled one upon another upon another in a series that may repeat but never ends. Sure, I get through it. I endure because that’s what I do. But it is like punishment. I wonder what I’ve done wrong. I have no faith in the midst of my affliction. I know that because I have no joy. I am not rising. I’m not moving forward. I’m just locked down, holding my ground, hanging on and waiting for the tempest to pass but wondering if it ever will.

Is that enough? God says it is not. He says I can learn, if not to welcome, to still rejoice in the trial of my faith, to laugh when I used to growl. As much as I may doubt it at times, my Father wants my days to be filled with joy – not necessarily happiness. That’s only in the pursuit. Joy is the constant. I can live an abundant life – not the same as a life of abundance -- but not if I am just hanging on to a hair by a broken fingernail with my sanity in shreds, cursing my circumstances and misfortunes.

How do we get the tail on our kite? It begins by facing our afflictions and speaking the truth, in prayer, in song, out loud or in a whisper. Even though I am afflicted, I will say, “I still believe.” And the Lord lets out a little more string.

Wherein I Set Sail for a Three Hour Tour

Immediately He made His disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, to Bethsaida, while He dismissed the crowd. After He said good-bye to them, He went away to the mountain to pray. When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the sea, and He was alone on the land. He saw them battered as they rowed, because the wind was against them. Around three in the morning He came toward them walking on the sea and wanted to pass by them. When they saw Him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw Him and were terrified. Immediately He spoke to them and said, “Have courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Then He got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. They were completely astounded because they had not understood about the loaves. Instead, their hearts were hardened.
-- Mark 6:45-52

The hearts of the Disciples were hardened. They had, during the previous day, seen five thousand souls fed with two fish and five loaves. The significance of that miraculous provision had been lost on them. Despite the fact that they were following the Lord, seeing Him heal and deliver, hearing His teachings, and experiencing His presence, they were still missing the point that He was not merely godly, but God, that all things existed and functioned upon His Being. That He had laid aside His glory and submitted to the limitations of human flesh did not change who He was.

Jesus orders the Twelve into their boat and sends them out to cross the lake while He stays behind. This mirrors our situation as souls coming into the world. We are sent here by God, separated and distanced. As with those in that boat, the situation we find ourselves in is often dark and stormy. There is nothing solid upon which to rest. We are, apart from the Lord, groundless. Or so it seems to us.

“He saw them battered as they rowed, because the wind was against them.” Though we think we are alone, God is watching. He knows where we are and what we are facing. He sees our trials, and He allows us to struggle with the futility of existence. Yet He never loses sight of us in the deepest darkness or the most intense storm.

“Around three in the morning…” – I don’t know what it is about 3:00AM, but we all understand that as being a significant time. It is the deepest dark. The light has long gone from the west. Midnight seems an age behind. The third watch has ended. That membrane which separates the mundane from raw reality is at its thinnest point, and the powers of hell have found their opening. The storm is at its height.

And the Lord comes walking on the sea.

How, then, are we to understand this phrase: “…and wanted to pass by them”? Another translation reads: “…and He intended to pass by them”. I went to Wuest, who gives it this way: “And He was desiring to go to their side”. Jesus intended to walk close enough to the boat so that He could be seen, even in the darkness of the storm. He, of course, had no need of getting in the boat Himself, or for Himself. The crossing, storm or no storm, was not a problem for Him. He comes close to reassure us, to let us know that He is present, watching and in control.

Life is not the maelstrom it appears to the human trying to make headway on an unknown journey. The sea is not the deadly, volatile element into which we fear to sink, never to rise again. Waves are as solid as stepping stones to the Lord. Nevertheless, as with the Disciples, when God does show up in such an uncanny way, walking serenely on storm-driven breakers, He may be the ultimate terror. Storms, we judge, are natural. We are familiar with the dangers of the sea. But One walking where no man should be able to walk, this is beyond our understanding.

As we cry out in fear, we hear, above the roar of the threatening storm, a familiar Voice full of strength and peace and encouragement. We hear, “It is I. I AM here. Your struggles are over.” Unwilling to allow fear and uncertainty to torment us further, the Lord enters into our vessel. The storms cease. The eastern sky shows the first hint of dawn. We know our destination is near at hand, and we will reach it in peace.

And the raccoons looked up

The sun and the earth seem to have no regard for the end of the world. This morning is clear and the eastern sky turns from midnight blue to red and gold. I have seen this before, and it has always foretold the advance of light, the day. To see it as other than a semaphore from God would be to miss the point. To regard it as a message to the world would be to miss the point as well. Moses wore a veil among his people, but he removed it when he went in before his God. What can be shaken will be shaken, and removed – not, say I, from the world, for the world is not my business: I am in it, not of it. What can be shaken will be shaken, and what cannot be shaken, that alone shall remain in me and of me.

I have seen clouds looking like mountains, and, in the distance, I have seen the mountains and wondered if they were clouds. Not long ago a great storm passed to the south of me as the sun sank in the west and the last rays fell long upon the vast thunderhead. It towered above any earthly mountain, with its top sheered into an anvil, and thunder did sound like the boom of Thor’s hammer falling upon it, as lightning, like the sparks from the smith’s blow, flashed within.

The storm beat upon those beneath it. It was the shaker, and yet the shaken, for it passed on and was no more, a bubble, nothing more, a tool in the hand of God. That which could not be shaken remained.

The mountains remained, silent, dark, worn, and ancient.

Sunrise.