Wait

When dark storms rise, I am a mariner.

When clouds rob the day of light and cyclones shift the tide…

I am a mariner.

It is a mysterious song, this wailing of winds.

It starts as a siren, enticing and soft, like the kind Odysseus heard.

He knew of its danger, Odysseus did, so he tied his free will to the mast of his ship.

I am not him, I think to myself. What a coward he is to not stand firm in the face of temptation.

I am not him, but a mariner, and at my helm stands the God of all nations.

I am not him; I will fight, I cry out to myself.

I will hoist my sails; grab hold of the rudder.

I will navigate these dark shadows before me and see myself freed from this perilous thunder.

But wait, says my Lord.

And I remember…

How many masts have I cracked, too weak to say no?

How many ships have I sunk as I’ve headed for shore?

If I raise my sail to escape this dark storm, the gale will surely catch it and shatter my will.

I whisper, forever I’ll fight, I refuse to give in, but forever is long, and even iron resolve is weakened by wind.

And so, wait, says my Lord.

Not forever, but for now.

You remember, even Peter did not drown.

The storm comes and goes, rattling my planks.

Soon, the waters calm.

I cannot fight storms, but I can listen to my Lord.

When He says hoist the sails, I hoist.

When He says wait, I wait … until oars no longer crack and masts no longer shatter.

I wait until the wailing of winds has passed.

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