93...

Of late I have been thinking how difficult it is to control my "inner man," his thoughts, emotions, fear, torments. But I have been unable to fully understand, or even describe, what is happening in these dark moments of self doubt and tribulation. Well, until yesterday, that is.

I heard a sermon by Robert Schuller on his "Hour of Power" broadcast and a story he told made it all come together. He was talking about not losing faith in the midst of the storms of life and how, when we do, it's like this story from a Victor Hugo novel. Indulge me for a moment by reading this translation I got from the internet...

"... Boisberthelot did not have time to reply. La Vieuville's words were suddenly cut short by a desperate cry, and at the same time the two men heard a noise unlike any noise that is normally heard. The cry and the noise came from inside the ship. The captain and the lieutenant rushed toward the between-decks, but were unable to go down. All the gunners were frantically coming up. A frightful thing had just happened. One of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four-pounder, had broken loose. This is perhaps the most frightful of all accidents at sea. Nothing more terrible can happen to a warship on the open sea and under full sail. A cannon that breaks its moorings suddenly becomes a kind of supernatural beast. It is a machine which transforms itself into a monster. That mass speeds on its wheels, tilts when the ship rolls, plunges when it pitches, goes, comes, stops, seems to meditate, resumes its swift movement, goes from one end of the ship to the other with the speed of an arrow, spins around, slips to one side, dashes away, rears up, spins around, slips to one side, dashes away, rears up, collides smashes, kills, exterminates. It is a battering-ram which attacks a wall according to its own whim."

I have been in an awful storm of late. My ship has been reeling, pitching to and fro, shuddering with each wave of disappointment. Mostly, the ship has remained secure, able to withstand the gale force winds that pitch it from without. But then a noise, something from within shook my confidence. Problem is that the more the ship rolled in the seas, the more intense the crashing of the cannonade below. So, as I read Pastor Schuller's sermon this morning it resounded deep inside as one analogy to the crashing of my emotions inside.

But analogies will do no good unless they are backed by something real, tangible, something able to calm the seas outside and in and put the cannon at rest. And while I acknowledge the enormity of that task, the question begs an answer ... do I believe God is able, or not? I used to believe He was able to do anything, but now, at least as the cannon runs its course, I'm not so sure.

It's not that I don't think HE is able, I guess I'm not sure I am. Because one way or another, stopping the cannon requires action on my part and I'm just not that brave. Or am I?

Yesterday I talked about being undaunted, literally not growing "discouraged by difficulty, danger, or disappointment." WOW. It sure hit me today as if to say, "OK, pal, prove that you're undaunted." Wham. Slam. Bam.

But Schuller said something else ... 46:10 - "Be still and know that I am God." That's from Psalms. Be still. Hmmm, it appears that calm seas, at least in my case, need something from me. To be still. Inside. Know that HE is God. I'll try. Undaunted. LOL!