Recently, I found myself in a position that seemed as though I stood on the edge of nearly not okay. It scared me because I remember those days when I wasn’t. Yet, every storm, since Jesus became more than an idea to me, has never hit me as hard as those days when I was not okay. So, I mutter my one-liner often to anyone who asks, “I’m always, at the very least, okay…”

Someone told me that it’s okay to not be okay… That I don’t have to always be so tough. But hearing those words didn’t bring me a sense of release nor did it give me a pass to not be okay. It blessed me to know this person would still love me while I’m not well, but I knew it the depths of my being that I was, at the very least, okay. My life has prepared me well. I find myself numb to the storms nearly as much as Jesus was sleeping on the boat while the others witnessing the storm feared for their lives. (Matthew 8:23-27)

But every now and then, only for a moment, I find myself more like Peter as he stepped off the boat onto the water. I know my God and I know how to trust Him. In fact, I can say in some sense I’ve been walking on water living the life I do and being used as He uses me. It becomes exciting to step off the boat and watch what He can do with me. I often become thrilled to leap, without hesitation, because I know how He loves me.

I am not immune to my human frailty, either. Yet I’ve noticed it takes a lot to make me begin to sink. Actually, in those recent moments that I found myself crying out to Him, it felt as though I’d been hit by five different storms all in the same week. For a moment, the sky was falling, I was sinking, and the only thing I knew how to do was cry out, “Lord, save me!” (Matthew 14:26-32)

Every day is uncertain, it always has been, but it’s as though at times I forget just how not in control I’ve always been. Everything could be ripped away from us in a moments time. Death, illness, the loss of a job, burnt bridges and broken relationships… We do all that we can preventatively, but regardless of how hard we work at prevention… No one’s tomorrow is promised.

So, when the storm arises, or all five storms meet in the middle creating a frenzy, what do I truly believe about the God who always carried me? I cry all the time… If you knew me well, at one point I’d probably compared myself to a toddler who often throws temper tantrums on God as though I want to eat cake and ice cream every night for dinner and can’t wrap my head around why Papa said, “no.” But the truth that always sticks to my heart is that I always come crying to my Father more than, and often well before, I incorporate others. I’m reminded of that night in May a few years ago where I finally came to Him as I were… Broken, angry, exhausted, and ready to quit.

I wasn’t just ready to quit a particular situation or living life… That night I was ready to quit God. I began to yell at Him and demand justice for how He’d treated me. I even cursed at Him, threw things at the wall, sobbed those gut-wrenching-ugly tears. All the storms that hit at once in May of 2018 had me not sinking and crying for His help, but blaming Him for the storm and angry He’d even let me on the boat to begin with. But as soon as I let out every real, human emotion without religious inhibitions, it became a true-to-the-heart issue and God whispered, “at least you’re coming to Me…” and it was then that I finally, wholeheartedly surrendered.

So, I no longer paint my face before approaching Him. I no longer search for fancy, perfect words and the pressures of perfect excellence. I come to Him as I am, in the thick of it, giving all that I can. I ugly cry, fall on my face, and I tell Him everything. I tell Him of every joy, desire, fear, frustration, and I know He knows… But I tell Him anyway. There’s no holding back between myself and Him, and yes, that means I sometimes whine and complain like a toddler who just doesn’t understand the rules. The reward for such transparency and openness with the Father is this: a deeply seeded relationship I wouldn’t trade for anything this world has to offer.

In much of my time with people I remain as transparent as I can get, a book who’s pages are full with large font ready for your perusal. I’m unashamed of my past, and willing to say I’m not perfect or righteous on every account today, either. I do this because I want you to know that His grace wasn’t a simple “get out of jail free” card. His grace became a gift that came with more perks than we’d ever come close to deserving. We get access to a relationship with the Father who gave everything for us to know Him as more than a wrathful, rule-touting, creator.

He is a Father who took us from orphan to part of the Royal Family. It’s a love that can’t be stolen or removed, but you can ignore it. You can turn your eyes away. You can make that choice… But I can assure you, from the once atheist who thought there was no way He existed, this relationship is worth looking silly, foolish, and as though you’ve lost your mind for. He is worth it, for far more than the idea of salvation and redemption from hell. He is quite literally the peace and calm to all of my storms.

“You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” (Matthew 8:26)

When the disciples saw him walking on the water, they were terrified. In their fear, they cried out, “It’s a ghost!” But Jesus spoke to them at once. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Take courage. I am here!” Then Peter called to him, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you, walking on the water.” “Yes, come,” Jesus said.
So Peter went over the side of the boat and walked on the water toward 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 and grabbed him. “You have so little faith,” Jesus said. “Why did you doubt me?” When they climbed back into the boat, the wind stopped. — Matthew 14:26-32 NLT