Into the Stillness

   So Peter went over the side of the boat and walked on the water towards Jesus. But when he saw the strong wind and the waves, he was terrified and began to sink, "Save me, Lord!" he shouted. Jesus immediately reached out a grabbed him. "You have so little faith," Jesus said, "Why did you doubt me?" Mathew 14:29-31

  I went to see my family for a couple of days. It was wonderful to spend time with them and my grandchildren.

  It's a long drive to get there, around three and half hours without breaks. I used the opportunity to listen and learn as much as possible about narcissism, the tactics used, and my own role in the destructive dance of control and capitulation. I am far wiser than when I left a couple of days ago. There are some great teachings on YouTube. Some are faith based. Some are not. And not all of them are great for sure.

  Half an hour before arriving home, I turned it all off. The brain can only handle so much at once. In the stillness of the car where the only sound was the hum of tires and the wind whispering past my window, a stillness enveloped my soul. A strength rose out the quiet. Everything I'd been listening to silenced the confusion I'd been struggling with.

  I thought about Peter getting out of the boat and realized what actually caused him to sink. It was confusion. He was confused by the reality of his senses. In most cases, in the middle of the sea, wind and waves meant he would drown. Even though he had his eyes on Jesus the whole time.

  Faith is entering into the way of Jesus to silence the limiting or even destructive power of our human perceptions of what is real and true. 

  I was raised by a storm. 

  Up until a couple of weeks ago, the wind and the waves had kept my head below water. Confusion was the author of every suffocated emotion, the ever present guilt, the self-doubt, the second-guessing of every decision ever made. That's the point. As long as the storm raged, I lost sight of Jesus. As long as the storm raged, I was helpless to see His outstretched hand. I was unable to step into the stillness He offered. Like Peter, I didn't have faith to see what His outstretched hand really meant.

  That stillness is clarity. The ability to see truth and live in that truth. It is being able to see beyond the storm no matter how violent. Stillness is what drowns out the thunder that once had me cowering in fear. Stillness allows me to see the gathering storm clouds and be prepared to face the onslaught. Not by running away or by making myself small again, but by standing still in the face of it.

 God is not the author of confusion, but of peace. 1 Corinthians 14:33

  I have had glimpses of it, in the art and in the writing. In doing these things, confusion was forced to step back. Truth came in glimpses of revelation and understanding. I cherished the stillness of it all, how focusing on one bit at a time brought peace and healing. 

  But I wasn't living in it. I was still in the boat.

  Jesus is so patient with us all.

  He kept calling, watching me dip my toes into the water only to yank my foot back into the false safety and familiarity of the boat. I had no idea how rotten the wood was.

  

  I don't know if any of this makes sense. All I know is that I didn't feel obligated to buy supper for my family last night as a thank you for allowing me to take up space in their lives. They were the ones who decided to order pizza rather than cook.

  That's a first. Not the pizza, but realizing they actually want me there and I don't owe them anything for it.

  Dear, sweet Jesus, create in me a new mind. One where confusion has no place. Grant me discernment and wisdom to see when the whispered lies, conditioning and old patterns try to steal the stillness and peace only Your presence can give. In Your precious name, AMEN!