Gathering: Stormy Weather
“Come down to the lake!”. He said. He was the only one amongst us who seemed to have a clue about why we were there or where we were going, but if there was one thing this “following” had taught was was that sometimes you had to trust that it would work out.
It appeared we had a destination, a direction, a course. There always had been one, even if most of us in our group hadn’t really worked it out, content to just follow. The next step was clear: to the other side. There was a cabin at the back, and He, who had been teaching and healing non-stop for weeks went straight to the cabin and went off to sleep, exhausted. The rest of us, pleased for this short break, just sat around on deck, chilling out. The Sun was shining , not a cloud in the sky. God was in his heaven and we were simply happy to be alive, in this place. We travelled serenely on our set course, towards our destination. The lake was as smooth as glass, the wind was gentle and there we felt marvellous and I thought to myself as we skimmed lazily over the water how I never wanted this to end: sheer bliss.
Almost as soon as I thought that, it all started to change: those whispy clouds started to thicken and that gentle breeze started to rise and the sky started to darken – the weather can close in around the lake really quickly, whipping over those Golan heights and before we knew where we were, we found ourselves in the middle of a storm – too far to go back and find shelter – we were committed to going forward, committed to the oncoming storm.
Well, the rain fell, the wind blew and the waves rose and we started to look a bit worried at the waves coming in over the side, and even dare I say it, swamping us. This was no joyride now – it was getting serious. We were getting blown off course – now I feared we’d never make our destination.
The storm blew more and we started to fear for our lives and where was he? Why wasn’t he on deck with us? Why wasn’t he telling us exactly what to do, why wasn’t he keeping us right on to our hoped for destination, why wasn’t he telling us how to cope… but there he was, still asleep, apparently not caring or not aware of our impending doom.
I shook him awake “C’mon we’re drowning! Set us a course, tell us how to get to Port. Shall we abandon ship, leap overboard and take our chances, find a different course… WHAT SHOULD WE DO!!!”
I was in a complete panic, and as I shook him, he opened just one eye to see me, soaked to the skin, looked at the sheer terror in my eyes. He however remained clam, very calm, disturbingly calm.
“Be calm” he said to me and just raising his head a little, he glanced up at the sky and said…
Very quietly. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to, for there was a calm authority in his voice which didn’t need volume.
And it went quiet. It went calm. All that rage and fuss and all of that fear which went with it, went away.
“You can carry on now” he said as he rolled over and went back to sleep, and we could stop, take stock and continue on to our final destination.
In my fear I called out to him, in my lost-ness I sought him out and he calmed things for me and in me before letting me get to my destination and complete my journey.
How can he have such authority? How can he have such power that even the storms of life become calm before him? How can he have such power that he wields it gently and without fuss to take away my fear?… because I asked him.