In the Storm

I had a powerful experience on Sunday while listening to the sermon.  I try to avoid powerful experiences during sermons, but this one completely blindsided me.  Our speaker was talking about peace and what peace really means.  He showed a slide of this painting:

which is a Rembrandt painting depicting the storm on the Sea of Galilee when Jesus was sleeping and his disciples were freaking out.  Our speaker said, "Sometimes when God promises peace and promises to save us, that doesn’t mean he takes away the storm.  Sometimes it means that he is in the water with us, holding us up above the water, and he won’t let us drown."

And I had this sensory-memory-vision thing just hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was five-years-old, at the beach with my family, and my dad wanted me to experience the ocean that he found so thrilling and fun.  Being five, I was scared and I didn’t want to go.  So he picked me up and carried me in.  I remember hiding my face in his neck, crying and shouting that I did not want to do this.  He just kept telling me, "Ally, I’ve got you, I’m not going to let you go.  Look up, this is fun!"  He kept laughing at me in a good-natured way, and I remember how his voice felt and sounded through his chest.  Then I let go a bit and looked around.  He didn’t let me fall, and it was fun.

And that is where I am right now.  God is holding me in the water, laughing at me and encouraging me.  He’s not going to let me go, He’s not there to trick me into learning how to swim by dropping me in.  He is my father, and he wants me to trust him.  I know this is kind of smarmy, but that image of my tiny blonde, sunburnt self being held by my really tall, big, blonde, sunburnt Dad is really sticking with me this week.