Then Jesus turned to his wind-torn friends. “Why were you scared? he asked. “Did you forget who I Am? Did you believe your fears, instead of me?”

Jesus’ friends had been so afraid, they had only seen the big waves. They had forgotten that, if Jesus was with them, then they had nothing to be afraid of. No matter how small their boat - or how big the storm.

I got choked up and looked at the cream cheese stained faces of my kids as I was reading the end of this story to them this morning from the Jesus Storybook Bible. For the pages before I found myself nodding my head and a little mad, thinking yeah, JESUS, WAKE UP. QUIT SLEEPING! Don’t you see I am in this little boat being blown and buffeted and tossed and turned back and forth and up and down and left and right and round and round??

Hannah looked at me the way I looked at my mom hundreds of times when i was so confused why she was crying and then she asked if she could go watch a show (i.e. escape the crazy lady talking to herself over the bible story). And now here I am many hours later thinking about the last dang sentence. No matter how small their boat or how big the storm - nothing to be afraid of if Jesus is with me.

WHY DOESN’T IT FEEL THAT WAY? Because actually I am very afraid. Actually my body is tied in knots wondering where my kids can lay there heads in 30 days. I feel like I’m in a small boat and completely adrift at sea. I feel like the compass was lost, i’m sailing with strangers, we are low on resources and then a nonstop relentless never slowing storm begins… and it is feeling like Jesus is snoozing. No calm, no recovery, no flashing lighthouses telling us where to pull in, no excess jackets or fish or rest - just constant waves.

This is what the last few years have felt like. How then God can you be surprised if I am afraid or if I am mad or weary? How am I supposed to consider worshiping my way through the constant nature of flying debris around me? Im TIRED. I want to RECOVER from the last few years. I cannot hope or dream or scheme or wait or anything right now. I only want to be but i’d like to be without lightening and thunder. I’m adrift without a compass and I can survive that, but not while also watching the boat fill with water. Is that too much to ask, that’s a real question? Am I wanting too much or all the wrong things?

The following morning, Stephen read a chapter from A Sacred Sorrow and I came to realize that I am in a stage of lament. Lament is defined as a passionate expression of grief or sorrow. Turns our I have been lamenting for a while now, but it is coming to light for me now as I recall much groaning in the last few years. The chapter talks about Job with more amazement of what he endured and that still, somehow, he continued to cry out to God. And that in his weeping and screaming to what felt like a silent God, that was actually worship. It says, "He will stubbornly cry out in the groanings of this lament which is worship until God answers. As Brueggermann would say, he refuses to leave the dance floor until the dance is done." Because he still believed in his most desperate place that God was His only hope.

I have had a hard time singing at church or praying prayers of gratitude recently, and I am amazed to consider that there is a place within worship that includes my groaning. Because indeed while I struggle to sing of God’s goodness and never letting us down, I do still in the depth of my exhausted wind torn body carry the belief that God is my hope. So, back to the boat. Stay on the dance floor. I can cry out at what feels like the sleeping Jesus, and beg God to protect my family from the relentless storm - and try my hardest to not be afraid until He answers.