“What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”
When you’re told that you’re going to be taking a ferry to an island, you don’t picture a big boat, like a cruise-ship big, but Blue Star was a big ship.
We were blessed with sleeper rooms with beds and a bathroom with a shower. Praise!
The turbines fired and we’re on our way. About an hour and a half into our journey, the waves came. We’re rocking and we’re rolling. Don’t they say you can’t feel the waves on big ships?
Sometimes I get a little motion sick when riding in cars. It’s never too bad but I know this about myself so I try to take precautions. I popped some ibuprofen and Dramamine, so I was covered.
Or so I thought.
Several of us from the squad hung out on the deck enjoying the night air. The contents of our first day in Lesvos were still unknown, so ending the night early to get a good night’s rest seemed imperative. The water was getting pretty rocky that just standing was a challenge. Walking in a straight line back to our room was pretty difficult. Picture me as a pinball. I was already feeling uneasy but the confinement of our tiny room amplified my immediate need for fresh air.
In a blink, my shoes were back on and I was pinballing my way back down the hallway to the deck.
AIR.
The big group had dispersed with a few left enjoying the night. AIR. Deep breaths, eyes shut tight and holding firmly to the chair. My head, stomach and shoulders all ached and swirled.
What am I going to do? There’s still 10 hours left on this ship. How will I make it feeling like this?
I sat in this state for several minutes, trying to breathe away the sea sickness until I had another thought.
Prayer. I need prayer.
I asked one of my sweet squadmates who was still on deck to pray for me and then a wave started to cover me. Not a wave of sea water but a wave of comfort. As she rubbed my arms, I started to feel better but I wasn’t quite through the storm. A few more of my sweet squadmates found me in my turmoil and I told them that my prayer was that Jesus would calm the waves. They started to pray for me and as they spoke words of peace and comfort over me, I started to feel the queasiness subsiding. The tension in my shoulders lessened. The pain in head was released. By the amen I was feeling better. My eyes were open. I was ready for bed. The rocking and rolling had stopped.
I’m not kidding. I laid in my bed and the shipped sailed on smoothly. Such peace.
Now that I’ve completed my journey across the Aegean Sea and I’m sitting waiting for orientation and the word if I’ll be a part of the group that goes out to work tonight, I envision the people we’re here to support and their journey across the Aegean Sea to the shores of this island. Yes, the journey from Turkey to Lesvos is much shorter, but the conditions are strikingly different. They are drifting in on rafts filled to the absolute capacity and exposed to the elements. I slept in a cozy bed and took a shower before I disembarked. Now, don’t think that I’m not incredibly grateful and thankful for the conditions on the ferry, because I very much am. It’s more like I’m in awe of God’s goodness.
But what if I was feeling sea sick on a raft last night instead of the ferry? What if I didn’t know that I could call on the name of Jesus to calm the sea? What if I didn’t have dear friends by my side who will readily call on the name of Jesus on my behalf?
The minutes are getting fewer till the time I know what my days in Greece are going to look like. The chances are high that I will witness or hear stories of tragedy but I’m not walking through this alone. I’m walking with the man who even the winds and the sea obey him. He is my strength. He is my comforter. He is my peace. I’ve seen it, felt it, first hand. I will call on his name on behalf of the people I meet. He can calm the sea, whatever that sea may look like.
