The Good Shepherd: Devotions Inspired by Psalm 23નમૂનો

The Peace of Still Water 

By Loisa Matthys 

On the same day, when evening had come, He said to them, “Let us cross over to the other side.” Now when they had left the multitude, they took Him along in the boat as He was. And other little boats were also with Him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. But He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow. And they awoke Him and said to Him, “Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?” Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. But He said to them, “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?” Mark 4:35–40 

I remember a day playing in the ocean as a kid, blissfully unaware of its power and lethality. I remember my sister calling repeatedly from the shore that it was time to go home, and I remember half swimming and half stumbling, desperate to get to her, but only drifting farther into the waves. I remember the man with the long, curly gray hair sweeping me up in one tanned arm, with a surfboard in the other, and carrying me to shore. “There’s a riptide out there,” he told my sister as he set me on solid ground. “You could have lost her.” 

Water is an immensely powerful thing. If you’ve ever been in over your head in troubled water, you know the sheer terror of it—every synapse aware of imminent danger and every muscle unified in one desperate pursuit to keep your head above the waves. I’m not sure there is anything in this life more exhausting than trying to survive deep, churning water. 

That’s the kind of water that overtook the disciples’ boat the night they woke Jesus from His pillowed sleep. The Sea of Galilee, carved like a bowl in the Jordan Rift Valley, caught the sudden storm like a wind tunnel, and it gripped the experienced fishermen with fear. In terror, they woke Jesus, and He rebuked the wind and the waves. “Peace, be still!” He said, and both obeyed. 

It’s certainly a comfort to know our God can calm the sea at will. I have, on many occasions, called out to Him in terror and watched Him speak stillness to the dark water around me. But like those fishermen, I am prone to missing the most important part of this story if I don’t pay careful attention. 

The next words Jesus addressed to the disciples who woke Him were: “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?” This is a perplexing response considering the disciples had brought their fear to Him. They at least had enough faith to know who to ask for help, right? But Jesus didn’t say, “Wow, I didn’t see that storm coming. It’s a good thing you guys woke Me up.” Instead, His loving rebuke suggests they never needed to wake Him at all. Jesus knew the storm would not overtake them. He knew they were equipped enough to handle it, and He implies they could have known it too. Jesus didn’t calm the storm to keep the disciples from drowning; He calmed the storm to alleviate their fear. 

Imagine having such complete faith in God that you not only know He can resolve whatever circumstances loom over you but you also trust Him when it feels like He’s not doing anything about them. 

This story compels me, and more importantly, it reveals another layer of how deeply we are loved by this Savior of ours. How many times has He calmed the waters, not because we faced danger but because we were afraid, and He wanted us to know peace? 

My four-year-old daughter is afraid of crocodiles. She’ll call to me at night, crying that she sees them in her room. Between you and me, I know there aren’t any crocodiles in there before I go in—but I still go. Would I wrestle a crocodile to save my little girl? You bet your life I would. But that’s not why I go in there. I go in there because I love her, and I want better for her than fear. 

That’s the love of the Father—the Shepherd who leads us beside still waters. He knows how exhausting fear is. He knows what a thief anxiety and stress can be. So, He leads us by still waters—not because the storm doesn’t sometimes rise up and not because we can’t handle it when it does. He does it because He loves us, knows what we need, and wants better for us than the fatigue of fear. 

If you are weary from treading the violent waters of fear and circumstance, remind your heart of the One who can speak to them, walk on them, and still them. Lie back in His arms and let Him lead you beside quiet waters today. 

PRAYER 

Shepherd of my heart, You are greater than any storm, stronger than any wind, and deeper than any water. Thank You that not only can You calm the waters but You choose to out of love for me. Quiet the storms around me, and even more importantly, help me allow You to lead my heart to peace in the midst of them. In Jesus’ name, Amen. 

FOR FURTHER REFLECTION   

• If your heart resonates with being overwhelmed by stormy seas, take a few minutes to remember a time in your past when God rescued you.   
• Remind your heart of God’s love for you as you speak your gratitude to Him aloud.   
• Ask God for wisdom on the first step to follow Him toward still waters, and rest in His answer.

Holy Spirit, what are You saying to me today?

MEMORY VERSES

He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Psalm 23:2–3