A long time ago I saw a movie called The Perfect Storm. It came out in 2000 and was based on the true story of the fishing boat Andrea Gail. Desperate to improve their recent fishing result the captain and crew take an ill-advised trip out much further than what would be normal. While their fishing improved, they ended up having to make a difficult decision. With the ice storage broken, they either had to dump their cargo of fish or make a run for it to get ashore which would take them into the middle of 2 storms and a hurricane converging. The Perfect Storm.
As you can imagine, it didn’t work out for the crew or ship.
I’ve recently run into my own perfect storm. Three large events converging at once. I recently described it as white knuckling in a rowboat in a storm. Head down, eyes closed, just holding on for dear life.
And now I’m thinking of someone else who experienced exactly that. Jesus disciples found themselves in the middle of a raging storm in a fishing boat. Jesus told his disciples to get in the boat and he’d meet them on the other side of the Sea of Galilee. I don’t know where they set off or where they were to land but the Sea is approximately 8 miles wide at some points. This is no small lake and this was no foreign place for these fisherman.
As they were going to the other side there was a storm and wind that came up. Jesus finally joined them by walking to them on the water. The disciples were rowing but were making slow progress against the wind and waves.
Besides the obvious lesson learned from Peter (keep your eyes on Jesus and you can walk on water) I am thinking of something else.
They kept rowing.
I can think of many many ways to avoid my perfect storm. I can specifically avoid it by distracting my mind with other things. I can hide it by pretending that the mask I wear is comfortable. I can fight it, demand that it go away. I can even call it something else to diminish it like call it a “rough patch” or a “everybody’s got something”. Much like some elevators in high rise building rename the 13th floor even though, well, it’s still the 13th floor no matter what you call it. I have done all those things and even done what I could to say I’m not in a storm.
Not the disciples. They called it what it was and kept rowing. The only way out…was through.
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