“I like to think of myself as more of a control enthusiast.”

Actor Patrick Warburton uttered this in a recent commercial for National Car Rental, but couldn’t we all make the same claim? We live in a world in which we can have any basic need delivered to our doorstep in a matter of hours and control our home’s internal environment with a few taps on the phone. Ours is a society conditioned to believe that maximizing control over even the smallest details of our lives is not only achievable, but also a convenience we need not question.

Life has a way of reminding us otherwise. Whether reality strikes at a global level, as in the COVID pandemic, or at a personal one, like a cancer diagnosis or a sudden job loss, the illusion is inevitably pierced. There are moments where a curtain is pulled back and we’re left staring at how small and unprotected we truly are.

A work of art I saw recently offered me a vivid picture of these realities: the painting Gulf Stream, by Winslow Homer.

In it, a lone boat drifts atop a rolling sea. Storm clouds seem to gather on the horizon. Sharks swim in the foreground, open-mouthed and dangerously close. The water appears to be dotted with pools of blood. Yet, aboard the boat, a solitary man leans idly on his side, as though blissfully unaware of the surrounding threats. It’s a picture of current-day humanity: so confident in our illusions of control that we pay no mind to the very real threats around us.

Yet it’s a picture of something else as well.

When my illusions of control are shattered, I tend to panic, internally and externally. Anxiety spikes. I instinctively try to figure out what I can do to fix the situation or regain some measure of control. I grasp at something, anything, to get back to level footing.

If I were in that painting, I’d feverishly hoist a sail or smack away the sharks with an oar. But in all likelihood that scrambling would just make things worse. In my activity I could easily knock myself right off the boat and into the tempestuous waters.

The same can be true with my panicked “fixing” actions in real life. How many times has your response to a threatening situation just created more problems?

And so the resting man presents another, better picture. Perhaps he does see the threats, but chooses to rest instead of scramble. To roll with things. To let the sea and the sharks and the storms do their thing while he remains anchored to his place on the boat.

This is an image of confident and peaceful rest in spite of trouble. It’s a posture captured in David’s words in Psalm 62: waiting on God, his rock. David’s life was like the boat on threatening seas—encircled by trouble. Yet time and again he sought refuge in God alone.

How? The psalm’s final verse reveals what David knew to be true: “…you, O God, are strong, and you, O God, are loving” (Psalm 62:12).

Because, through Christ, God is permanently with us, rest—in Jesus—is the best posture to weather the storm. Why grasp for external help when the greatest help is already present?

Prayer: Lord, forgive me for how easily I grasp at control, forgetting about how strong and loving You are and how much I can entrust myself to You. You are indeed a rock and a fortress. Teach me to seek refuge in you even when the storms of life threaten to overwhelm me, and give me a taste of your peaceful presence within them. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Throughout This Day: What currently feels out of control? What storm threatens to overwhelm you like a crashing wave? How have you sought to grasp at control within it, or to fix it with your own activity or initiative? What might waiting on the Lord and entering a posture of rest within that storm look like? Ask God to reveal that to you, and take a step in that direction as he leads and empowers.



Tags: Daily Devotional Psalm 62
Photo Credit: OA Public Domain