It’s so dark, so dark, all around, there has been no sign of light for so long.
The days of terror have turned into weeks.
Overwhelmed. Wave after wave.
The world constantly lurching from side to side.
Another wave. Exhausted. Hungry. Afraid. Cold.
Wave. Lurch. Slide. Holding on for dear life. Wave.
No relief. Constantly tossed by life. Always. Forever. Never stops. Wave.
The unknown always threatening. Danger always present, leering.
The is only one escape – death. And after so many days, this is what I hope for, what I pray for.
I just want to let go. Quit fighting. Give up. Make it stop. It will take…
Death or a miracle. A major miracle. An impossible miracle. Too big a miracle…
In the midst of this stormy sea, on a ship in 50 AD, no life guards, no help, no hope.
Only a prayer and hope that the promised miracle of Paul’s god will come through.
But what’s it going to take to get that miracle?
A shipwreck? What? A shipwreck to get a miracle?
In the midst of the darkness, in the raging storm, tossing sea, thunder and lightning, a miracle?
I have to jump. With only a small piece of wood to hang onto. With only faith in another man’s god. I have to jump, let go, take a leap of faith, into the unknown, then hang on tight. When the waves crashing over me then the tide pulls me under. When I can’t see up. Deafened by the storm and waves. Cold to the core, both with fear and the chill of the water.
It was supposed to get better. Where’s the promised miracle now?
It’s only getting worse. The safety of the ship gone. Now just a piece of wood and hope I will end up on the shore….
Will it ever end? Life isn’t supposed to be like this. Is there any hope?
Another wave. Pulled under. Come up, coughing, choking, cold, so cold, so dark.
I just want to close my eyes and never wake up…
Will this storm never end?
I slowly open my eyes. Sore. Cold. My face a dent in the sand. I think I may have made it to land.
The world still seems to move beneath me.
The rain still falls. The wind still roars. But I’ve made it to the shore.
I’m surprised. Thankful.
In this moment I take a wonderful water free breath in and accept a new faith.
Paul’s God came through.
We got our miracle.
I’m alive. I have a new faith. He’s my God now.
I believe. I believe in Jesus Christ.
The storm stopped. The sun came out. We ate. We slept. We are warm. The world is still.
What more could I want?
But Jesus Christ has given me more. More than I need. More than I expected. More than I hoped or imagined.
Faith. Friends. A ship full of supplies. Faith.
So thankful. I have forgiveness, peace, joy, hope, love, life!
Relationship with the Creator.
But it took a storm. A severe storm. Fear, darkness, cold, hunger, pain.
It took a shipwreck. A leap of faith. Struggle, waves, overwhelming, crashing, life a kilter.
No control. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop the storm. It just kept coming and coming and coming. Totally uncontrollable. I couldn’t stop the storm. I needed a miracle.
The miracle came through the storm and the shipwreck.
The miracle wasn’t rescue from the storm. Nor safety in the storm. Not the end of the storm.
The miracle wasn’t my life. The miracle wasn’t that I survived. That 276 of us all survived. That wasn’t the miracle.
The miracle was that I now have a faith. Faith in Jesus Christ. Undeniable, immoveable faith.
But it took a storm and a shipwreck. Was it worth it?
Yes! For this faith, yes!