Sometimes the doubts roll in like waves powered by a storm. Sometimes fear shakes the sails and tosses my boat like a leaf. I may cling to hope. I may think the storm will end soon or that I can manage its fury.

   Sometimes when my doubts and fears swell, I grab a bucket and start bailing. I bail with my logic first, using old formulas and truths to attempt to smother the hurricane. I yell into the wind as it slashes at my face. I ignore the waves that rush on and on.

   But soon, ignoring is no longer an option. I’m sinking and I’m desperate. Now, I blindly switch from bailing furiously to clinging to the mast. I’m trying to at least figure out what went wrong, before I sink into the deep.

   I remember something. Like an old forgotten song, the memory comes drifting in. I didn’t climb into this boat alone. I didn’t want to cross the cloudy sea. Jesus got in with me. He told me to go this way. And then I see Him, sleeping in the front of the boat.

   I’m angry. How could He rest, while I fight the storm alone? How could He bring me this way then let my peace blow away? “Don’t you care, Lord? Don’t you care that I’ll die?”

   How long would Jesus have slept, if the disciples hadn’t wakened Him? “Where’s your faith?” He asked His quaking friends. I don’t think He was angry they disturbed His rest. The problem was their doubt that He cared.

   Bartemaeus may have been blind from birth. He may have never learned to read the law or the prophets. How did he know about the significance of the Messiah? His parents left him outside, hoping that pity would draw in an income. I don’t know if anyone ever believed that he could be anything but a beggar.

   When he heard Jesus was passing by, he didn’t silently cling to hope. There was quite the crowd passing through and people standing to watch. Bartemaeus didn’t sit and hope that he would get extra money because of the multitude.

   He yelled out, trying to be heard above the din, “Jesus, have mercy on me!” People tried to hush him. It was embarrassing to have such a welcome into their city. He was an annoying, good-for-nothing, burden to society and now he was making a scene.

   Would Jesus have passed right on by, if Bartemaeus hadn’t cried out? I may never know, but I know he was healed because of his faith.

   So, where are you? Are you in the boat sinking or are you way past hope of ever being healed? Are you feeling overwhelmed and beyond understanding? Jesus is near. Will you put down your bailing bucket? Will you let go of the mast? Will you stop sitting idly by? Will you call to Him for mercy?

My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me. ~Psalm 63:8

Though the angry surges roll
On my tempest-driven soul,
I am peaceful, for I know,
Wildly though the winds may blow,
I’ve an anchor safe and sure,
That can evermore endure.
And it holds, my anchor holds:
Blow your wildest, then, O gale,
On my bark so small and frail;
By His grace I shall not fail,
For my anchor holds, my anchor holds.

~William C. Martin

Photo credit: [theprojectroom/etsy]