It was a flicker of an image on a windy road but enough to make an imprint. A gray swan slid across a flat, dark reservoir, dipping its bill into the water slowly like a fountain pen into inky blackness.
My reflexive desire to involve Google twists the scene into something more haunting. A gray swan, according to Investopedia (not making this up) is described as an event that has a slight chance of happening that could disrupt the world, economy, and stock market. Creepy. This is what my mind does. It rubbernecks the foreboding and the beauty slips by unappreciated.
I sit on my wrecked vessel in the belly of the whale, legs dangling in stale seawater, absorbing my lack of sea-worthiness. When it comes to the point of being swallowed by the whale, whatever I had been standing on doesn’t matter, because it clearly wasn’t God. It is discouraging when that knowledge is so often in hindsight. It is best to just come clean at this point about the fears that made me, on the grand scale of my life, look down, Google, and sink.
Me: Okay, we need to talk.
God: ?
Me: A pandemic? You know I already have anxiety issues. Why?
God: Got it covered. Psalm 91.
Me: Snow in May?
God: Creative license.
Me: MURDER HORNETS?!
God: “Killer” was taken by bees in the 80s.
Me: Be serious. Why?
God: Remember Matthew 16:21-23? Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to suffer, die, then be raised to life. Remember Peter’s response?
Me: Peter rebukes Jesus. (Wow, saying it aloud really highlights how ridiculous it is.)
God: Exactly. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!” Then Jesus rebukes Peter. Peter was worked up, focused on the things of the world instead of focusing his mind on the concerns of Me. He discarded the extraordinary part of the message to cling to what he knew.
If the Bible was a movie the role of Peter would be played by me. If Jesus told me He was going to die, I wouldn’t just rebuke him. I would treat it like a PR disaster and launch campaigns to try to restore His image. I would picket, rally, protest, lobby, and Twitter. When the crowd was against Him and Pilot was washing his hands of the matter I would bum rush that stage, grab the mic and try desperately to reason with everyone. I would ask Him why?! If He ignored my question or said “You don’t understand.” I would ruminate until it consumed me then write a passive- aggressive Facebook post and unfriend everyone who didn’t like it…and I would completely miss the what—the message of hope that would make things better than okay, it would make things perfect.
Now I suspect being marooned in this whale has something to do with my desperate clutching of the past and a stubbornness to embrace a new normal.
The belly of the whale lights up with a memory. When I was in Junior High I took a camping trip with the youth group to a place called Stillwater. We canoed out to an island, so it was the full camping experience. All our belongings were stuffed in plastic bags and we prayed we wouldn’t lose them overboard on our way. In our teenage minds we of course failed to fully contemplate the repercussions of our actions. We ended up on a remote island without a building in sight. The woods would be our bathroom. Shelter and food was what we brought with us. We would be cooking over a fire. As dusk approached we were out of bear-proofing ideas so we floated our food out onto the water in the canoes, not thinking about the fact that we were then trapped on a tiny island with bears and no means of escape. As we were grumbling in our tents about the location of the girls and boys “bathrooms,” our youth group leaders screamed for us to come to the beach. When I finally emerged from the trees, I saw something beyond my young brain’s ability to comprehend. Only God is powerful enough to create a scene that invokes awe and reverence in a group of rowdy teenagers. We sat in awestruck silence on the beach that night soaking in the surreal landscape of a sky lit by the Northern Lights. People journey on purpose way further North than we were to see this sight, and God gave front row seats to some irreverent, complaining teenagers. The only sound was the water lapping up against the canoes as we watched God’s fingers streak through the sky in undulating greens and blues behind a silhouette of pine trees. I remember clearly that moment when God hit a divine pause button in my life. I felt awe rooted in peace and joy and dared not look away for a second.
This is why Jesus said we should have faith like a child. My teenage brain was somehow smarter than the current adult version. In that moment I could feel the size of me compared to the size of Him. It wasn’t scary, it made me stop, be still, and KNOW He was God. It made me trust that He is working things ultimately for good. My problems may change, but God never does. He is always the one who deserves my awestruck attention.
Reason #3 of why God gets my vote for best quarantine companion—Omnipotence. He defeated death! Death is the worst case scenario for most scenarios and he defeated it! What more is left to worry about? I am parked watching worldly problems rear their Medusa-esque head. When one major issue is chopped off, another one grows in its place. No wonder I have turned to useless stone.
Me: Sorry my eyes dropped off of You for a while there.
God: Just a little bit, yeah. It is okay to read and watch the news, as long as what you are standing on is my Good News.
Lord, You can eradicate and create. You make nations fall and mountains crumble and with only Your Words You called everything into creation. You never leave or forsake us. You walk with us in circumstances that lead us to the edge of human reasoning and toleration, then You open our eyes to show us Your infinite power extends beyond death itself. You are all powerful. I am not. So You tell me in Psalm 46 that You are my refuge, strength, and help in times of trouble. Eradicate my worry and focus me on right thoughts. Create in me an ability to rest and trust Your power. Arm me with Your Truth and point me in the direction of the good fight You want me to fight in the space You have put me. Amen.
Thank you Tara for sharing your faith so that we might be touched and inspired by it.