You may be facing the perfect storm, but Jesus offers the perfect peace.
When mariners describe a tempest that no sailor can escape, they call it a perfect storm. Not perfect in the sense of ideal, but perfect in the sense of combining factors. All the elements, such as hurricane-force winds plus a cold front plus a downpour of rain, work together to create the insurmountable disaster. The winds alone would be a challenge; but the winds plus the cold plus the rain? The perfect recipe for disaster.
You needn’t be a fisherman to experience a perfect storm. All you need is a layoff plus a recession. A disease plus a job transfer. A relationship breakup plus a college rejection. We can handle one challenge . . . but two or three at a time? One wave after another, gale forces followed by thunderstorms? It’s enough to make you wonder, Will I survive?
Paul’s answer to that question is profound and concise. “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7).
As we do our part (rejoice in the Lord, pursue a gentle spirit, pray about everything, and cling to gratitude), God does his part. He bestows upon us the peace of God. Note, this is not a peace from God. Our Father gives us the very peace of God. He downloads the tranquility of the throne room into our world, resulting in an inexplicable calm. We should be worried, but we aren’t. We should be upset, but we are comforted. The peace of God transcends all logic, scheming, and efforts to explain it.
This kind of peace is not a human achievement. It is a gift from above. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27 NIV).
Jesus promises you his vintage of peace! The peace that calmed his heart when he was falsely accused. The peace that steadied his voice when he spoke to Pilate. The peace that kept his thoughts clear and heart pure as he hung on the cross. This was his peace. This can be your peace.
The peace of God transcends all logic, scheming, and efforts to explain it.
This peace “guards [our] hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7).
God takes responsibility for the hearts and minds of those who believe in him. As we celebrate him and pray to him, he constructs a fortress around our hearts and minds, protecting us from the attacks of the devil. As the verse from the ancient hymn declares:
A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.1
Martin Luther wrote these words centuries after the apostle Paul had written his epistles. Yet had Paul heard the hymn, he would have sung it with hearty conviction. He knew firsthand the peace and protection of God. In fact, he had just experienced it in the last major event of his life before his imprisonment: a sea journey from Caesarea to Rome.
When he penned the “be anxious for nothing” paragraph, he had recently endured a storm on the Mediterranean Sea. On his final recorded voyage Paul was placed on a ship in Caesarea destined for Italy. Luke traveled with him, as did Aristarchus, a Christian brother from Thessalonica. Some prisoners were on the ship, presumably condemned men who were bound for the Roman arena. The ship enjoyed smooth sailing until they reached Sidon. At the next stop, Myra, they changed vessels. They were loaded onto a large Egyptian grain ship. About one hundred feet long and weighing perhaps more than a thousand tons, the ships were sturdy but engineered in such a way that they did not sail well into the wind.2
They reached nearby Cnidus with great difficulty. From there they sailed south under the shelter of Crete until they reached the port of Fair Havens, about halfway across the island. Fair Havens was not “fair” on the eyes. It received this name from the chamber of commerce, I suppose, in hope of attracting business.
The sailors didn’t want to stay in Fair Havens. They knew they couldn’t reach Rome before winter but preferred the port of Phoenix.
Paul tried to convince them otherwise. They had reason to listen to him, because Paul was no stranger to storms at sea and shipwrecks (2 Cor. 11:25). One ancient volume described the dangers of sailing at this time of year as “scant daylight, long nights, dense cloud cover, poor visibility and the double raging of winds, showers and snows.”3 He knew the danger of a winter voyage and issued a strong caution. But in the eyes of the captain, Paul was nothing but a Jewish preacher. So they weighed anchor and set sail for a better harbor (Acts 27:1–12).
“But not long after, a tempestuous head wind arose, called Euroclydon” (v. 14). What a great word—a compound of the Greek term euros, the east wind, and the Latin word aquilo, the north wind.4 Some translations call this wind what it was, a northeaster.5 The temperature dropped. The sails whipped. The waves frothed. The sailors searched for land and couldn’t see it. They looked at the storm and couldn’t avoid it.
The components of the perfect storm were gathering:
a winter sea
a ferocious wind
a cumbersome boat
an impatient crew
Individually these elements were manageable, but collectively they were formidable. So the crew did what they could. They hoisted the lifeboat aboard and frapped the vessel. They lowered the sea anchor, jettisoned cargo, and threw equipment overboard. But nothing worked.
Verse 20 reads like a death sentence: “Now when neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest beat on us, all hope that we would be saved was finally given up.”
The perfect storm took its toll.
It lasted for fourteen days (v. 27)! Fourteen hours would shake you. (Fourteen minutes would undo me!) But two weeks of sunless days and starless nights? Fourteen days of bouncing, climbing toward the heavens and plunging toward the sea. The ocean boomed, splashed, and rumbled. The sailors lost all appetite for food. They lost all reason for hope. They gave up. And when they gave up, Paul spoke up.
But after long abstinence from food, then Paul stood in the midst of them and said, “Men, you should have listened to me, and not have sailed from Crete and incurred this disaster and loss. And now I urge you to take heart, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship.” (vv. 21–22)
The peace that kept his thoughts clear and heart pure as he hung on the cross. This was his peace.
This can be your peace.
What a contrast. The mariners, who knew how to sail in storms, gave up hope. Paul, a Jewish preacher who presumably knew very little about sailing, became the courier of courage. What did he know that they didn’t?
Better question, what did he say that you need to hear? Are you bouncing about in a northeaster? Like the sailors you’ve done all you can to survive: you’ve tightened the ship, lowered the anchor. You’ve consulted the bank, changed your diet, called the lawyers, called your supervisor, tightened your budget. You’ve gone for counseling, rehab, or therapy. Yet the sea churns with angry foam. Is fear coming at you from all sides? Then let God speak to you. Let God give you what he gave the sailors: perfect peace.
Paul began with a rebuke: “Men, you should have listened to me.” We don’t like to be rebuked, corrected, or chastened. But when we ignore God’s warnings, a scolding is in order.
Is fear coming at you from all sides? Then let God speak to you.
Did you? Are you in a storm of anxiety because you didn’t listen to God? He told you that sex outside of marriage would result in chaos, but you didn’t listen. He told you that the borrower is a slave to the lender, but you took on the dangerous debt. He told you to cherish your spouse and nourish your kids, but you cherished your career and nourished your vices. He cautioned you about the wrong crowd and the strong drink and the long hours. But you did not listen. And now you are in a storm of your own making.
If this describes you, receive God’s rebuke. He corrects those he loves, and he loves you. So stand corrected. Confess your sin and resolve to do better. Be wiser next time. Learn from your poor choice. But don’t despair. While this story contains one rebuke, it also contains three promises that can give us peace in the middle of a storm.
Heaven has helpers to help you. Paul said, “There stood by me this night an angel” (v. 23). On the deck of a sinking ship in a raging storm, Paul received a visitor from heaven. An angel came and stood beside him. Angels still come and help us.
Recently after a church service one of our members approached me in the reception line. Her eyes were full of tears and wonder as she said, “I saw your angel.”
“You did?”
“Yes, he stood near you as you preached.”
I find comfort in that thought. I also find many scriptures to support it. “All the angels are spirits who serve God and are sent to help those who will receive salvation” (Heb. 1:14 NCV).
The prophet Daniel experienced the assistance of angels. He was troubled. He resolved to pray. After three weeks (so much for one-shot attempts at prayer), Daniel saw a man dressed in linen with a belt of gold around his waist. His body was like topaz, his face like lightning, his eyes on fire. His arms and legs resembled burnished bronze. His voice was like the roar of a multitude (Dan. 10:5–6 NIV).
Daniel was so stunned he fell to the ground. The angel said:
“Don’t be afraid, Daniel. Since the first day you began to pray for understanding and to humble yourself before your God, your request has been heard in heaven. I have come in answer to your prayer. But for twenty-one days the spirit prince of the kingdom of Persia blocked my way. Then Michael, one of the archangels, came to help me, and I left him there with the spirit prince of the kingdom of Persia. Now I am here to explain what will happen to your people in the future.” (vv. 12–14 NLT)
The moment Daniel began praying, the answer was issued. Demonic forces blocked the pathway of the angel. The impasse lasted a full three weeks until the archangel Michael arrived on the scene with his superior authority. The standoff was ended, and the prayer was answered.
Have your prayers been met with a silent sky? Have you prayed and heard nothing? Are you floundering in the land between an offered and an answered prayer? Do you feel the press of Satan’s mortar and pestle?
If so, I beg you, don’t give up. What the angel said to Daniel, God says to you: “Since the first day that you set your mind to gain understanding and to humble yourself before your God, your words were heard” (Dan. 10:12 NIV). You have been heard in heaven. Angelic armies have been dispatched. Reinforcements have been rallied. God promises, “I will contend with him who contends with you” (Isa. 49:25).
Do what Daniel did. Remain before the Lord.
Those who wait on the LORD
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint. (Isa. 40:31)
An angel protected Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego in the fiery furnace (Dan. 3:23–26). They can protect you. An angel escorted Peter out of prison (Acts 12:5–9). They can walk you out of your bondage. “He [God] has put his angels in charge of you to watch over you wherever you go” (Ps. 91:11 NCV). Heaven has helpers for you.
And . . .
Heaven has a place for you. Paul knew this. “For there stood by me this night an angel of the God to whom I belong” (Acts 27:23).
When parents send their kids to summer camp, they have to sign certain documents. One of the documents asks, who is the responsible party? If Johnny breaks his arm or Suzie breaks out with measles, who will be responsible? Hopefully Mom and Dad are willing to sign their names.
God signed his. When you gave your life to him, he took responsibility for you. He guarantees your safe arrival into his port. You are his sheep; he is your shepherd. Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me” (John 10:14 NIV).
You are a bride; he is your bridegroom. The church is being “prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Rev. 21:2).
You are his child; he is your father. “You are no longer a slave but God’s own child. And since you are his child, God has made you his heir” (Gal. 4:7 NLT).
You can have peace in the midst of the storm because you are not alone, you belong to God, and . . .
You are in the Lord’s service. “For there stood by me this night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve” (Acts 27:23).
God had given Paul an assignment: carry the gospel to Rome. Paul had not yet arrived at Rome, so God was not yet finished with him. Since God was not yet finished, Paul knew he would survive.
Most of us don’t have a clear message like Paul’s. But we do have the assurance that we will not live one day less than we are supposed to live. If God has work for you to do, he will keep you alive to do it. “All the days planned for me were written in your book before I was one day old” (Ps. 139:16 NCV).
No life is too short or too long. You will live your prescribed number of days. You might change the quality of your days but not the quantity.
I’m not saying you will have no more problems in your future. Quite the contrary. Paul had his share, and so will you. Look at verse 22: “And now I urge you to take heart, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship” (Acts 27).
It is not easy to lose your ship. Your ship is the vessel that carries, sustains, protects, and supports you. Your boat is your marriage, your body, your business. Because of your boat, you’ve stayed afloat. And now without your boat you think you will sink. You’re correct. You will, for a while. Waves will sweep over you. Fear will suck you under like a Pacific riptide. But take heart, says Paul. Take heart, says Christ: “In this world you will have trouble, but be brave! I have defeated the world” (John 16:33 NCV).
You can lose it all, only to discover that you haven’t. God has been there all along.
God has never promised a life with no storms. But he has promised to be there when we face them. Consider the compelling testimony of Jehoshaphat. He ascended the throne at the age of thirty-five and reigned for twenty-five years.
According to the book of 2 Chronicles, the Moabites formed a great and powerful confederacy with the surrounding nations and marched against Jehoshaphat (2 Chron. 20). It was a military version of a perfect storm. The Jews could handle one army. But when one army allies with another and those two combine with a third? It was more than the king could handle.
Jehoshaphat’s response deserves a spot in the anxiety-treatment textbook. He “set himself to seek the LORD” (2 Chron. 20:3). He “proclaimed a fast throughout all Judah” (v. 3). He cried out to God in prayer (vv. 6–12). He confessed, “We have no power . . . nor do we know what to do, but our eyes are upon You” (v. 12).
God responded with this message: “Do not be afraid nor dismayed because of this great multitude, for the battle is not yours, but God’s” (v. 15).
Jehoshaphat so totally believed in God that he made the remarkable decision of marching into battle with singers in front. I’m confident the people who signed up for the choir never imagined they would lead the army. But Jehoshaphat knew the real battle was a spiritual one, so he led with worship and worshippers. By the time they reached the battlefield, the battle was over. The enemies had turned on each other, and the Hebrews never had to raise a sword (vv. 21–24).
Learn a lesson from the king. Lead with worship. Go first to your Father in prayer and praise. Confess to him your fears. Gather with his people. Set your face toward God. Fast. Cry out for help. Admit your weakness. Then, once God moves, you move too. Expect to see the God of ages fight for you. He is near, as near as your next breath.
Expect to see the God of ages fight for you. He is near, as near as your next breath.
Noah Drew can tell you. He was only two years old when he discovered the protective presence of Jesus.
The Drew family was making the short drive from their house to their neighborhood pool. Leigh Anna, the mom, was driving so slowly that the automatic door locks did not engage. Noah opened his door and fell out. She felt a bump, as if she had driven over a speed bump, and braked to a quick stop. Her husband, Ben, jumped out of the car and found Noah on the pavement. “He’s alive!” Ben shouted and placed him on the seat. Noah’s legs were covered in blood, and he was shaking violently. Leigh Anna hurried over to the passenger’s seat and held Noah on her lap as Ben drove to the ER.
Incredibly, the tests showed no broken bones. A five-thousand-pound vehicle had run over his legs, yet little Noah had nothing but cuts and bruises to show for it.
Later that night Leigh Anna dropped to her knees and thanked Jesus for sparing her son. She then stretched out on the bed next to him. He was asleep; at least she thought he was. As she was lying beside him in the dark, he said, “Mama, Jesus catched me.”
She said, “He did?”
Noah replied, “I told Jesus thank you, and he said you’re very welcome.”
The next day he gave some details. “Mama, Jesus has brown hands. He catched me like this.” He held his arms outstretched, cupping his little hands. The next day he told her that Jesus has brown hair. When she asked him for more information, he said, “That’s all,” in a very nonchalant manner. But when he said his prayers that night, he said, “Thank you, Jesus, for catching me.”6
Northeasters bear down on the best of us. Contrary winds. Crashing waves. They come. But Jesus still catches his children. He still extends his arms. He still sends his angels. Because you belong to him, you can have peace in the midst of the storm. The same Jesus who sent the angel to Paul sends this message to you: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isa. 43:2 NIV).
You may be facing the perfect storm, but Jesus offers the perfect peace.