On Easter, we went to the sunrise service. This year it was held at a local park. As we sat in folding chairs on the grass and listened to the pastor, I kept thinking of the verses in John 6.
And when even was now come, his disciples went down unto the sea, And entered into a ship, and went over the sea toward Capernaum. And it was now dark, and Jesus was not come to them. And the sea arose by reason of a great wind that blew. So when they had rowed about five and twenty or thirty furlongs, they see Jesus walking on the sea, and drawing nigh unto the ship: and they were afraid. But he saith unto them, It is I; be not afraid. Then they willingly received him into the ship: and immediately the ship was at the land whither they went. (from here)
Our powerful Lord and Savior quieting the violent waves of the storm and feeding the five thousand.
Then, I look at my life and other people’s lives. Why do we take the power out of Jesus’ life by living as if God only works through human hands? My friend is a Baptist. Baptists don’t seem to like talking about the supernatural. She is very practical. I am, too. It’s easy to go through life and forget to take notice of Jesus’ power in the everyday.
Jesus died. He borrowed a tomb from Joseph. As our pastor said, he borrowed a tomb. Who would borrow a tomb? On the third day, Jesus rose from the dead. He walked through walls.
And we walk into walls; walls of our own making because we put limits on what God can do. In some ways, the accusations from some believers are true–we are atheist in our beliefs. Apathetic.
After service, S.M. and I drove down to join my family for Easter dinner. My friend and her husband are going on an adventure. I felt shackled by both the burden I feel for my unbelieving family and the claustrophobicness of their company.
Don’t get me wrong.
I love them.
I pray hard for them.
I envy my friend.
The conversations at the dinner table were safe. I hate myself for how safe and cleansed the conversation is when I feel that I should shout the truth at them. I feel that I should DO something. I don’t want them to go to hell. I love them too much. If I talked about Jesus to an agnostic or an atheist, I could talk in terms of Jesus and God and there would be no confusion. With Mormons, they don’t believe in the same God. I talk about Jesus and it’s Jesus as a separate entity.
No soul was ever won by shouting.
Only through love.
And love means spending time with them. Listening. Waiting. Ever praying.
I have to stop walking into walls, and remember that if Jesus could feed the five thousand and calm a storm with a word, then, with the Word, Jesus can reach them via my prayers. My prayers are supernatural. If it aligns with God’s will, I trust that God will shine through my actions.
I am powerless. God is powerful. I love Him. I love our conversations.