Billowing sunrises

Then He got into the boat followed by his disciples. Suddenly a storm broke over the lake, so violent that the boat was being swamped by the waves. But He was asleep. So they went to Him and woke Him saying, ‘Save us, Lord, we are lost!’ And He said to them, ‘Why are you so frightened, you who have so little faith?’  Matthew 8:23-25

I can think of a couple of sorts of “patience” illustrated here, both of which demonstrate the working of the Holy Spirit.  Yesterday I read an article by Gordon McDonald reminding us what a bunch of losers Jesus had chosen to be his disciples.  “Take a look at their record. They dared to instruct Jesus when they felt his teaching about dying was off the wall. They kept trying to keep people (children, disabled people, women) from getting near the Lord if they didn't think they were worthy. They nearly lost it in the Galilean storm and turned on him as if he were to blame. They promised to stick with Jesus through thick or thin, and then ran at the first sign of provocation. From time to time they revealed an instinct for meanness such as the day they proposed prayer (prayer of all things!) to send fire down on an inhospitable Samaritan village.”  Jesus, the Master Teacher, dedicated three full years of his life, his entire “ministry,” to discipling just twelve guys.  And one of them betrayed Him.  Surely that requires a great deal of patience.  Patience that I myself certainly do not offer my own fellow followers, while I have been forgiven so very much.  How quickly He wants us to release the trespasses, real or imagined, committed against us.  Release.  Completely.  Never to dredge up again from the bottom of our murky pools, “You always...”  Every single time we say or think those words, we grieve His heart.  Every single time.  So very many Scriptures about motes and beams in the eyes, ungrateful servants, and of course His prayer, the model for continual discourse with the Father.  So there is the patience that His Spirit creates in a heart that is under His control.  

And then the patience, the sturdy anchor sort of patience, when the storms are crashing around my boat.  Now I don’t think that Jesus is sleeping through all of my problems, dozing off when I feel like life is the most dire imaginable.   But I do think that He is modeling complete trust in His Father’s love and power and taking care of the details.  Versus my frantic pleas for Him to deal with stuff right now, and by the way, “Don’t you care that I am drowning?!!”  Indeed He does.  

And I can rest in that.  The same way that I can rest in the imperfections of each person- release and let it go.  And indeed, the patience I can have with my flawed self who never quite behaves or feels or says what I should.  The Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace and patience.  

And this morning one of those bright orange and pink and yellow sunrises billowed across the shimmering blue sky.  It’s a new day.