At least he wasn’t chained, not that it mattered much. Crashing water punctuated the wind’s constant howl. The deck he lay on slid, jumped, fell, and rose again—sometimes with regular purposeful beat, other times mad and crazy. Paul wasn’t sure how long since he’d eaten. Wonder if there’s anything dry anywhere? Dry? There was an interesting thought. What was dry? Was there anywhere dry, or was the entire universe just a malevolent, bucking gray sea twisted with angry gray sky? He thought he’d been on his way somewhere for some purpose, some really important purpose, but now …

Suddenly, quiet, calm, warm brightness. Someone stood beside him. “Don’t be afraid, Paul. You must stand trial before Caesar, and God has graciously given you the lives of all who sail with you.” He remembered where he was going, why, and, most importantly, Who sent him.

By itself, water lies flat. But, moving air pushes smooth ocean into troubled waves. Stronger wind racing over more miles of fetch for longer time grows bigger waves. Even light wind, given sufficient time and distance produces monstrous waves. The Southern Ocean completely circles the Earth below South America and north of Antarctica. No land mass impedes the eastward march of wind and water. Our planet’s strongest winds and largest waves rampage unchecked around the circle of the world’s fourth-largest ocean.

Likewise, doubt’s wind blows across our sea of thoughts. Unimpeded, lie’s mounting waves circle our minds, hit from the right and slap from the left. Tossed up, dropped, then pitched again, stinging spray confuses the familiar, batters confidence, feeds fear, and obscures even sun and stars. Where were we going? Was there anywhere else to go? Did anywhere else besides here even exist? Dark, crashing water smashes the compass, and we lose our course. Finally, a blow spins us sideways, a second tips us over, and the tempest swallows us.

Fortunately, the Lord gives many kinds of grace—goggles to see in pelting sea, stout compasses to guide in pitching craft, lights to shine in bedeviling dark, harbors to hide from violent storm, and—in the utmost extremity—breath for life in watery graves.

So, when was the last time you found yourself talking grace but living law?

Matthew 11:20-25; 2 Corinthians 3:4-6; Acts 27:13-26;
Ephesians 4:7-16; Romans 5:17; James 1:2-8