I’ve been in a bit of a writing standstill, and words just aren’t getting on the page (or screen) like I wish they would. The sermon at our church last week was over the storm in Acts 27, so I thought I’d revisit and revise this post from two years ago, especially since most of you reading weren’t here in the pre-Substack days.
I was inspired by a few other writers I follow to record an audio version of the essay as well. Going for the podcast-y vibes here for those of you who prefer listening rather than reading. :)
If you’re walking through a storm, take heart. Or if you know someone who is, feel free to share the truths that there is hope and a Savior who stands amongst the waves.
Like any good story, this one takes place at camp. No, not band camp, but I was in middle school, so you can imagine the same level of gangly and awkward. It was a Thursday evening, which meant it was the all-camp activities night -- arguably the best night of the week. All of the campers were divided into teams and brought into a camp-wide role-playing game. Each team traveled to the different stations trying to rescue the princess or the spy or probably some Bible character, depending on that week's theme.
I remember the air was incredibly humid and the sky gray. The whispers of a storm weaved through the camp, but the plans for the evening moved forward. However, about halfway through the evening, while my team was all the way past the horse barns (a good ten minute walk from the center of camp), suddenly the clouds were dark, rain began pouring down, and thunder and flickers of lightning began to rumble closer.
We ran. My fight-or-flight reflexes started going crazy, and I ran down the muddy camp road as fast as my 5-foot-self could take me. A few of my friends were laughing at the intensity of the scenario, fifty elementary- and middle-school girls racing to the Rec Center for safety with counselors trying to take head-count and maintain some semblance of calm for the girls in tears.
I was probably one of those girls....Not the ones laughing. The one in tears. I remember being thankful that it was raining so hard so no one would see I was crying. (I know. So dramatic.) All I knew was I had to get inside as soon as I could. To safety. To peace.
The Nature and Inevitability of Storms
If I'm honest, I've often had much the same response to life's "storms" as well. Reverting to fight-or-flight mode, I run, straining with every effort I have to maintain some semblance of calm and escape to whatever form of "refuge" I can find in hopes of safety and peace.
But, as a Christian who believes the Word of God to be true, I know that Christ said we should expect tribulation -- "storms," if you will. He also promised that as we are in Him, we can have peace inwardly, because He has overcome the world (John 16:33). James said that we should count it joy when we face these storms, not finding joy in the pain itself -- for God's heart as a Good Father breaks for His children's pain -- but joy in knowing that the brokenness in this world will not have the final word. Trials will produce in us steadfastness and mature character as we grow in our faith if we allow the Lord to work that in us (James 1:2-4).
These promises can be difficult to move from head to heart, though, especially when we're in the middle of a storm. There's nothing like being at the mercy of the elements to truly expose us, right? No matter what we say we believe, our response to storms reveals what's actually in our heart of hearts. I know that has been painfully true for me. And yet, God is so gracious and kind, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and mercy.
His presence doesn't repel pain or storms. In fact, sometimes it seems to create them. Storms are created by a change. Warm air rises to meet cold air (yes, that's my layman's explanation, work with me...I taught ELA, not science) and that creates some tension. When we have the Spirit in us as believers, we should expect some clash, some trials. We are walking in something different.
Storms are created by change, and they also bring change as well -- in temperature, the weather, and the overall atmosphere. We’ve had a few big storms this summer here in Ohio. There was a stretch a few weeks ago with some intense heat and humidity until it finally broke after a storm. The storm brought about the change.
Likewise, life's storms are often transitional, bringing about change in our lives. And they are transitory. No matter how we feel in the moment, the storms will not last. Their effects may have painful longevity, but the storm itself will not.
But what do we do while we wait in the storm? When we cry out to God in its midst, sometimes He calms them immediately, like the account of Jesus calming the storm at sea in the Gospels. And sometimes He doesn't calm the storms, though He later brings us out of them, like Paul and the storm at sea in Acts 27.
What do both of these scenarios reveal about our hearts?
And who do we view Jesus to be in their midst?
When Storms Cease
35 On that day, when evening had come, [Jesus] said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36 And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. 37 And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. 38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39 And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41 And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
Mark 4:35-41
Warren Wiersbe notes the context of this account in the Gospels in his commentary,
"By the time the Lord had finished giving 'the Parables of the Kingdom' (Matt. 13:1-52), the disciples must have felt like postgraduate students in the School of Faith! They now understand mysteries that were hidden from the scribes and rabbis and even from the Old Testament prophets. What they did not realize (and we are so like them!) is that faith must be tested before it can be trusted. It is one thing to learn a new spiritual truth, but quite something else to practice that truth in the everyday experiences of life.
Satan does not care how much Bible truth we learn so long as we do not live it. Truth that is only in the head is purely academic and never will get into the heart until it is practiced by the will. 'Doing the will of God from the heart' is what God wants from His children (Eph. 6:6). Satan knows that academic truth is not dangerous, but active truth is.
It's in such storms that we can move the knowledge of who God is to a deeper knowing, an experiential conviction of the goodness of His sovereign character.
There are three sets of questions listed here in this brief account:
"Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?" (5:38)
"Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?" (5:40)
"Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey Him?" (5:41)
The disciples, men who were beginning to grow in more intimate knowledge of who Jesus was, ask that first question. When they saw Jesus asleep in the storm, they began questioning Jesus' care for them — do you not care?! Similarly, storms stir up questions in us about Jesus' heart for us.
Can I trust Him?
The third question — who is this? — reveals awe and even possibly disbelief that Jesus responded and that there was change. When we pray, do we have faith that Jesus is who He says He is, and that we can expect Him to respond? Especially when He responds with a miracle of miracles and ceases a storm that seemed impossible -- are we left with a deeper confirmation of what we had already believed about His character & power, or are we challenged that maybe we didn't think He actually could do anything in the first place?
The order of Jesus' question (#2) and response comforts me. We see Him waking up and "[rebuking] the wind and [saying] to the sea, 'Peace! Be still!'" Then, He speaks to the disciples. He doesn't rebuke them for their struggle of faith. He rebukes the storm.
Christ's heart for us is gentle and lowly (Matt. 11:29). He does not rebuke us for our struggle in the storm. Instead, He uses storms to show us who He is, which is the ultimate gift of grace.
When Storms Stay
I won't include the entirety of Acts 27 here, so here are the Cliff Notes: the apostle Paul, on his way to Rome, encounters a significant storm at sea. The men in charge start freaking out, Paul calms them down with his faith-filled and faithful response, and they are shipwrecked, yet rescued from the storm. The very last verse in the chapter confirms what an angel of God promised Paul would happen: "And so it was that all were brought safely to land" (27:22; 27:44).
There's a stark contrast between the sailors' and Paul's responses to the storm. The sailors, who did not know God, first responded in their own logic & reason:
15 And when the ship was caught and could not face the wind, we gave way to it and were driven along. 16 Running under the lee of a small island called Cauda, we managed with difficulty to secure the ship's boat. 17 After hoisting it up, they used supports to undergird the ship. Then, fearing that they would run aground on the Syrtis, they lowered the gear, and thus they were driven along. 18 Since we were violently storm-tossed, they began the next day to jettison the cargo. 19 And on the third day they threw the ship's tackle overboard with their own hands. 20 When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest lay on us, all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned.
Acts 27:15-20
Even after going through every step they could think of, their source of direction (the sun and stars) was completely lost, as well as all hope of being saved.
We also see some of the men reacting in fear-driven self-preservation:
29 And fearing that we might run on the rocks, they let down four anchors from the stern and prayed for day to come. 30 And as the sailors were seeking to escape from the ship, and had lowered the ship's boat into the sea under pretense of laying out anchors from the bow, 31 Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.” 32 Then the soldiers cut away the ropes of the ship's boat and let it go.
Acts 27:29-32
In the middle of these two responses, we see Paul "[standing] up among them" and calling for them to "Take heart" (27:21-22). An angel of God had appeared to Paul in the storm and told Paul that God had "granted [him] all those who sail with [him]" (27:23-24). Not one life would be lost, if they followed what Paul directed.
Paul's description of God as he addresses the ship stands out to me particularly. He describes Him as "the God to whom I belong and whom I worship" (27:23). Paul could "take heart" in the midst of the terrifying storm and hold fast to the promises of God, affirming "that it will be exactly as [he had] been told" (27:25) because he knew that he belonged to God, a good and trustworthy God who does not lie or change as man does (Numbers 23:19), and he truly believed the One whom he rightly worshipped.
A Quiet Heart
In the summer of 2018, I read Elisabeth Elliot's book Keep a Quiet Heart. The book is a series of short essays, many on trusting God and a heart that rests in him. Commenting on the story of Jesus calming the storm, Elisabeth Elliot writes,
"[Jesus] could [sleep] because He slept in the calm assurance that His Father was in control. His was a quiet heart....
A quiet heart is content with what God gives. It is enough. All is grace. "My portion. My cup. My lot is secure. My heart can be at peace. My Father is in charge. How simple!"
Our enemy delights in disquieting us. Our Savior and Helper delights in quieting us. 'As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you' is His promise (Is. 66:13 NIV). The choice is ours. It depends on our willingness to see everything in God, receive all from His hand, accept with gratitude just the portion and cup He offers. Shall I charge Him with a mistake in His measurements or with misjudging the sphere in which I can best learn to trust Him? Has He misplaced me? Is He ignorant of things or people which, in my view, hinder my doing His will?
from Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliot
This is hard for me. Anxiety is a familiar companion, albeit an unwelcome one. Her whispers twirl my thoughts into a spiral, and Fear explodes any logic I have into a million pieces. But my prayer since 2018 has been for the LORD to give me a quiet heart.
And He has, or at least a quieter one. And the way He's accomplished this? Through storms.
8 O Lord God of hosts,
who is mighty as you are, O Lord,
with your faithfulness all around you?
9 You rule the raging of the sea;
when its waves rise, you still them.
Psalm 89:8-9
15 For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
Isaiah 30:15