For weeks, I’ve been praying for more of Jesus’ love—to experience it, to be filled with it, to overflow with it toward others. For weeks, we’ve been studying Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and I’m amazed that the crucifixion was only part of Jesus’ suffering. The flesh of Jesus endured constant jostling by the smelliest, dirtiest, nastiest people in the land (so much so that he didn’t know he was touched by a woman who had been vaginally bleeding for 12 years); suddenly, I realize how much I hate to be touched! I don’t even like to be bumped around by people I married and gave birth to and who have showered every day! And I’m claustrophobic!

What if it's our failures and our sinking in the midst of the miracle that provides the greatest opportunity for Jesus' deity to shine? What if, when our circumstances get super dark and terrifying, we ask Jesus to identify Himself by calling us out into it. Then, at his beckoning, we run to Him, out onto the raging waters so that He can bring us back to safety. Sure, we may end up wet, and cold, and even a little silly looking; but we’d also end up surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, worshiping the God Man who saved us and lifted us out of the water, shouting "Hosanna in the Highest”—I think it would all be worth it.

It’s clear now that my thoughts were providentially interrupted. I pushed back against the wall of the plane and watched this woman strategize what to do next. In the meantime, I was performing my own mental calculations—a cost/benefit analysis. Hoping that the staff of the plane had some miracle solution for vomit everywhere, I told myself over and over that I was not going to participate in clean-up but the deep down parts of me revolted. I knew what was coming; I had just spent the last few hours considering Christ… who He is and what He’s done; how to live faithful in times when all is out of my control. And the Holy Spirit whispered, “This is how you’ll keep your eyes unwaveringly fixed on Me. Serve.”