Straining at the Oars

Everyone I’ve talked to this week is stressed to their breaking point. Problems at work, problems at home, problems with health both mental and physical. With the war in Ukraine, a global pandemic, wildfires, tornadoes, floods, high gas prices—and a cat food shortage—the whole world seems to be crumbling.

Years ago, someone asked me in desperation “What’s wrong with the world?”

I answered, “We were created for a perfect world, but we’re not in one.”

She looked at me like I’d just spoken the secret of the universe. But this is simply the story of Adam and Eve in a nutshell. Created as innocents in paradise without knowledge of evil or its presence, they were built for trust and reliance on God, not independence. So, the minute they trusted the devil instead of their creator, everything fell apart. The very paradigm of the universe shifted, and every day since the arc of chaos and disharmony has swung wide.

That said, I don’t mean this to be a theological treatise, but a practical issue we wrestle daily. As believers we know that Jesus has settled the problem of evil on our behalf forever, yet as long as we walk this earth, we are physically separated from God and must trust in his invisible existence and power on our behalf because on our own, like our ancient ancestors, we are designed without the ability to cope with sin or its consequences.

What does that look like? Surrounded by worldwide calamity, my struggle this week (at least the one I’m free to share) has been my writing. My creative brain was clogged with self-doubt and demotivated. My mind screamed does it even matter if you tell your story? Who will read your memoir? How will it benefit others? Who cares? I just wanted it out of my head. On the page. Done. Honestly, I’d rather refinish furniture, make my house pretty, and participate in book studies of other people’s books.

But then I’d feel like a loser, jealous of others who’ve been able to cross the finish line. Wondering what’s wrong with me or my story? Am I even a real writer if I don’t traditionally publish? Do I have the stamina to go that route?

Then I recalled the words in Steven Pressfield’s book, The War of Art. “Most of us have two lives, the life we live, and the unlived life. Between the two stands resistance.” I thought of Thoreau and his quote about the mass of men living lives of quiet desperation. I thought of Mick Jaeger who sang, “I can’t get no satisfaction.” Maybe this is just part of being designed for a perfect world and not living in one. No matter what our struggle, we live with the constant hiss of the enemy in our ears.

Pressfield would tell me to be a professional and keep doing the work. He would tell me to separate my identity from my work. The apostle Paul would tell me to cling to my core identity and worth in Christ. Maybe this is part of the work, spitting out my emotions and realizing that my true feelings are often infected with the devil’s lies. Certainly, there are more colossal things going on in the world, but this was the battle I had to win this week.

So, I posted a message about my discouragement to my online writer’s group, and in response a writer friend sent me this quote.

“I also needed to hear other women’s stories in order to see and embrace my own. Sometimes another woman’s story becomes a mirror that shows me a self I haven’t seen before. When I listen to her tell it, her experience quickens and clarifies my own. Her questions rouse mine. Her conflicts illumine my conflicts. Her solutions call forth my hope. Her strengths summon my strengths. All of this can happen even when our stories and our lives are very different.”

Sue Monk Kidd from her memoir,
The Dance of the Dissident’s Daughter.

These words reminded me that earlier in the week I’d read Mark 6:48 where the disciples, caught in a tempest, were straining at the oars. Jesus had told them to cross the Sea of Galilee and meet him on the other side. Matthew 14:32-33 adds while they were bailing to keep the boat from being swamped, they saw what looked like a ghost walking towards them on the water. When Peter recognized it was Jesus, the Lord called to him to step out of the boat and come to him. Against the wind, Peter obeyed and walked on water himself until he focused again on the overwhelming waves.

Clearly, I’ve been drowning in a squall of self-pity. But here’s the part I need to remember. Jesus reached out, caught Peter by the hand, and calmed the storm, just like my writer friend reached out to me. And as you can see, my fingers are once again flying across the keyboard, my heart full of hope.

This side of paradise, we’re all straining at the oars, so reach out to God and other believers in the myriad troubles that threaten to sink your boat because Jesus saves.

And remember, this is practical not just theological. These days every time I find cat food on the grocery shelf, I praise God, knowing he is faithful with the big stuff as well as the small.

Cover photo

Cover photo by Alexander Marinescu on Unsplash