In my later twenties, I worked with Youth for Christ as a Youth Guidance counsellor. That meant I worked with troubled teens and juvenile delinquents. One summer we had an opportunity to take a 10-day trip on the Robertson II (photo), a 110-foot gaff-rigged schooner, which was identical to the famous Blue Nose pictured on the Canadian dime. I and a couple of my unruly charges embarked with 20 or 30 other more “normal” teens and various YFC staff and volunteers on an exhilarating adventure with the full-time crew of the vessel.
It is this meaning of the word stayed that comes to mind when I think of Isaiah 26:3: “Thou shalt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.” I am thinking of that verse this morning as I quietly ponder the first part of the first verse of Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd….”
If He is my shepherd, then I am His sheep. Sheep are not known for their intelligence. Their shepherd is a whole lot smarter than they are. As we read in 1 Corinthians 1:25, the foolishness of God is wiser than the smartest person in the world. Moving that thought into the sheep metaphor, we can safely say, “The foolishness of the shepherd is wiser than the smartest sheep”—much wiser!
This encourages me to cast all my worries and cares upon Him.1 Why would a sheep waste her energy worrying about all the things that concern her life and the lives of the precious sheep around her that she loves so much? The Shepherd knows what He’s doing, and He wants to carry my burdens and dissolve my fears. He has the best interests of all the sheep foremost in His mind, and He is all-wise, all-powerful, and all-loving. “We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.”2
When I turn my anxieties over to Him in a posture of trust and gratitude, He gives me, according to His promise, His peace in return3. Peace. Peace. The most foundational part of my inheritance in Christ. When I am troubled, I take the time to identify the issues that are tying up my thoughts, my emotions, and my guts. I choose to untie myself, disentangle myself, from those issues and instead tie myself to Him. I stay my mind on Him the way the mainmast of that sailing vessel was stayed to the deck.
The mainmast is my life. God Himself is the solid wooden structure of that ship. Those cables are my faith. No matter how rough the storm, no matter how much the buffeting of the wind causes my frame to shudder and groan, I can stay upright and secure, because I am anchored to a deeper reality that cannot be shaken.4 He keeps me “in perfect peace.” Or rather, His offer is there on the table. I have to take it up, and some days, labouring under the weight of family concerns, I have to struggle to lay hold of that peace.
Just yesterday, my dear husband was texting someone with an exhortation, dictating into his phone. He quoted the Psalmist: “’Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’”5 Then he commented, “That’s a choice.”
I overheard, and his statement arrested me. I pondered it. Jesus has made every provision for me to live in peace, but I must choose, with my will, to lay hold of it by faith; trust that what He says is true. Then I will discover that indeed it is, because He then pours His grace into the vacuum of my fear.
Easier said than done, I think as I write this. Then I suddenly
remember a text that I sent to someone, not even a week ago. I look it up, and
I find my own words speaking back to me:
I want to encourage you … to take your fears
to God. He is the only one who can unburden you. Remember, when you are anxious,
to take all your concerns to Him and spell them out one by one, with
thanksgiving, and wait on Him until He gives you His peace in place of the
anxiety.6 Do not ask or worry about tomorrow; today has enough
concerns of its own.7 Give
your whole family over to God, over and over, until you are able to truly
release the burden to Him.… You are carrying such an impossible weight for … your
family. You are so weary and heavy laden, and He wants to give you rest,8
a rest that you have not yet fully known.
This article is a lesson, to this point, in laying hold of the things—like unshakable peace—that God has prepared for those who love him,9 things intended to be had in the here and now. It’s not an easy lesson to assimilate, and it’s not for milk-fattened babies10; it is hearty, life-giving—but sometimes tough—meat for those who have grown a solid set of spiritual molars. If you can chew it and digest it, it will strengthen you mightily.11
But memories of the Robertson II also bring to mind my “salvation,” when I became a sheep of His flock; when He left the 99 others, came after the one that was lost, and carried her back to the flock. He answered the deep cry of my heart, a cry I didn’t really know was there until He answered it. The experience opened up a whole new world to me, filling me with an ever-deepening longing for more, and making life an adventure at a deep level never before touched.
Likewise, the thrill of being out at sea on that huge sailing vessel awakened something in me of such magnitude that it became an analogy for the deep joy of “discovering” God. These thoughts stirred me so deeply, back in the day, that I wrote them out in a song shortly after coming back to civilization.
The Call of the Sea
I was not a young girl
And as you crest each new wave
If we have heard the call of the Lord, and if we keep listening, we will find that He never stops calling. Whether we are lost lambs or mature sheep, He is always beckoning us onward and upward, toward a fuller life in Him.
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