(I wrote parts of this at the end of summer)
But when Peter saw the wind, he was afraid and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.
Matthew 14:30-32
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We are playing boggle. I am winning against my dad and stepmom. But I am still trying to frantically find words, hoping that if I focus on the small board in front of me and the pen in my hand, I won’t think of the pain radiating from the base of my spine upwards. As I defend one of my words (roe, meaning fish eggs), I press my back up against the chair, my posture as straight as possible. We play for an hour before I admit that I am in pain. “I think I am going to pass out,” I tell my dad. “Or throw up.”
When I wake up, the pain is worse. In five days, I am supposed to go back to school. In a week, I am supposed to be in a wedding, to walk down the aisle, and dance. I can’t even sit up. I came home this summer to get well, to focus on my health. I cancelled my summer plans in order to see doctors and take care of myself. I told myself, and the Lord, that I would be well before the next school year. I gave myself and the Lord a time table. Twelve weeks. After eleven weeks of seeing some improvement, the twelfth week leaves me wrecked. I am worse than I was at the beginning of the summer.
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For my most of my life, I have been sinking under the weight of lies I believe. They are heavy iron shackles, bonds tied to my neck, my arms, my legs, trying to pull me under. The tide is strong and the undercurrent irresistible. But I swim hard. I swim until I am tired, until my arms and legs stop moving.
When I finally look up, I see Jesus walking on water. He is the most beautiful thing. My amazement, my love for Him, and awe at His sacrifice, give me new energy. I kick my legs; I move my arms. I swim and I swim hard towards Jesus but those old bonds are heavy. Though Jesus freed me on the cross, I choose to hold onto those lies with fisted hands. When I think, “I am worthless,” I know Jesus thinks differently but I let the lie weigh me down. When I see others walking on water with Him, I think, if I only swim faster, better, harder, I will get there too. Sometime I rise a little higher in the water and I can breathe more freely. But other times I grow so tired that I sink, until I struggle to draw in air, believing lies and wondering why I can swim so close to Jesus and not feel the miraculous weightlessness others feel.
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I should be freaking out. How will I move in to school? How can I even go to school? What about the wedding? I have spent the whole summer stressing about every little thing, knowing that stress makes my condition worse. But for the first time, I am calm. As I lay in my bed, unable to move, I consider the fact that I am twenty one years old and this is my life. But I am not angry or bitter or even upset. The fact is, since I became a Christian, I have claimed that God is the only thing I can depend on. I have claimed to walk by faith. But now, I cannot depend on my health. I cannot depend on my body. I can’t even walk.
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One day, my legs stop working. My arms forget how to paddle. As the storm rages, I sink. I can’t see Jesus over the rising water. I try to hold my breath or beg my body to work, but I can’t. My body, my strength is used up and I tossed by the waves and wind. Now I cry out to Jesus, “Lord, save me!” I can’t swim on my own. I am too tired, too broken.
He reaches out right away. He sees me through the wind and the water. He pulls me up. He holds me in His arms. He asks me why I doubted Him and I have no answer, because standing on the waves, walking with Jesus, this is so much better. I watch my bonds sink to the ocean floor, safe in my savior’s arms, knowing if not for Him, the chains would have taken me with them. When the winds calm, I do not go back in the water. There is nothing for me there and besides, my body can no longer handle the current. I rest in Christ’s arms–rescued, saved, grateful for my failure.
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At this point, I consider my health problems to be a blessing. Though I have been a Christian for several years, I didn’t understand what it meant to walk by faith. I thought I did. I read my Bible everyday and I grew spiritually. I told people about Jesus, that He is the only thing I can depend on. I believed in Him and I loved Him. But I didn’t see, I didn’t understand that I continued to carry burdens I had no business carrying. I stressed over my family and school. I was the classic overachiever. And though I prayed about these things, though I thought I was giving them to the Lord, I wasn’t. Somewhere deep inside I still thought that I had to do the work, that I had to be better, stronger, that I had to fight the current and keep my head above water.
The problem was, for a long time, I was good at it. If I worked hard, I excelled. If I put my mind to it, I could do it–whatever it was. But after years of this, my body finally said, “No more.” Very literally, I could no longer survive, let alone thrive, on my own strength. In the twelfth week, in the midst of the worst flair up of pain I’d ever had, someone told me that this was an opportunity to my full weight on Christ–not just one foot or two–but everything I had. That day, in my bed, I read 2 Corinthians 12. Paul asks for the thorn to be removed from his flesh three times and God says no. The Lord tells him, “My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in your weakness” (12:9).
The reason I consider my health problems to be a blessing is because they have literally forced me to rely on the sufficiency of God’s grace. Literally, I cannot depend on my body. But whether I am riding my bike or unable to move, God’s grace is always sufficient for me. I can walk by faith, even when I can’t walk. I continue to pray for healing but more than anything, I want His will to be done. Right now, today–this is where I am supposed to be. This is God’s best. It is the best. And I don’t have to worry or perform or achieve. In fact, His power is made perfect in my weakness. And so, by faith, I am walking on water.
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