Following the battle of Guadalcanal, Barney Ross recalls himself petitioning a Jewish God. Adkins, in the next foxhole, was praying to a Baptist God. A kid with a hole in his side was praying to a Catholic God. It hit him that there was no difference between himself and his friends beneath a hell of gunfire. He confessed, "I couldn't help but wonder if people have to come that close to death to realize that we are all on the same side and trying to get to the same place."

The face of death has bad breath. Knowing that we are a heartbeat from eternity, we want to be done with it. So we react in several ways. Some of us press the panic button, bracing ourselves for the worst. Others of us draw deeply from the wells of faith. When faith responds to danger, fear crosses our minds like a flash of lightning; but, just as quickly, we call upon our spiritual reserves for coping. The disciples, rocking like a cork in the storm on Lake Galilee, fell into the first category (and almost the water). They wanted Jesus to save their skins. That was priority one. My money also says faith never crossed their minds. That's what flustered Jesus. The disciples had always been fair weather followers. Any appearance of a storm cloud on the horizon, and they wanted out.

Fortunately, Jesus understood. He always understood. He understands why we want out sometimes, too. Where would any of us be without his understanding? Where would any of us be without his acceptance? He knows we are going to betray him again and again - often for less than thirty pieces of silver. Yet he keeps coming back with these two words that have astounded the world, "I forgive." Only the God who sent us Jesus, only the God with a love so vast could make such a claim. Forgiveness is possible because love is possible.

In the last century there was a man named George Matheson. He entered Glasgow University with a sharp mind and a willingness to learn. He was also engaged to be married. He had a vision of a promising future. But, without warning, he became totally blind. His fiancee left him. Though down, he wasn't crushed. He went on to graduate from the university at nineteen and entered the ministry of the Church of Scotland. In spite of his pain and loneliness, he encountered the osmosis of inner power. It was that light that followed him all the way. No tragedy or disappointment can be too overwhelming that God cannot beam his power into our midst. The promise of the rainbow cannot be too far away, either.

"How can I be sure that God really cares? After all, I'm just one in six hundred million." God was so high on our kind that he didn't send angels with armloads of joy powder and hallelujah juice. He did the next best thing. He sent himself. He descended into the foxholes of our racial tears, of our sexual paranoia, of our marital mud-wrestling, of our trillion haunting doubts. His cup of water is never too far away. He stays around to pour good wine into our cups. My, even our innards rejoice!

Today, God is with us on the upswing. His caring is found clearly in the caring of others. We are "others," too. On a cold February 4, 1943, the American ship, the Dorchester, was carrying several hundred soldiers off the coast of Greenland. Suddenly, an enemy torpedo ripped into its hull. Within minutes the ship would go under. Amid the panic and confusion, four chaplains, Alex Good, Jewish; John Washington, Catholic; Clark Poling and George Fox, Protestants, stood together with their life belts on. Many of the soldiers had none. Without lifeboats, their chances for survival were nil. Quickly, the chaplains took off their belts and gave them to four men. As the ship sank, the chaplains, with hands firmly clasped, prayed the Lord's prayer. The chaplains gave their lives for the others, because One other had first stood in for them. "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:12) That's a tall order. Well, not so unreal, considering his love stands taller than life itself.

God does not use the cross as a hammer to forge our destinies. He does have a plan for each of us. No storm in hell or on earth will ever isolate us from the Plan Maker. He has a reason for that plan. With our compassion, faith, and sweat, we hammer out a fulfilling self. Helen Keller affirms her belief in God's intentions. "I like to think that, through my limitation, God is working out some great adventures, and they have taught me understanding and friendship and how to be able to serve the world." Don't you see it now? We who wander into the vastness of his love, find a Friend. We also find our neighbor. When we return, we find ourselves, too. Not a bad bargain - three for the price of one; a lot of mileage for faith.

In the end we really can't come down hard on the disciples. For their defense we must say at least they turned to Jesus for deliverance. Our faith should never reach a level of self-sufficiency. We will always be driven to call upon Jesus for the escape hatch. After walking through the Cave of the Winds at Niagara Falls, a visitor from Scotland shares his sensations. He reflects upon his feeling of being totally cut off from the world. Deafened by the pounding roar and foam, he observes, "Your only link with the entire world of humanity is in the presence of the hand of your guide. You cannot see him; all that you are conscious of is a hand with a pull in it."

The pull of the hand of the Master of the tempest is always there, calling to us to hook on. It is never an invisible hand. When the storms of difficulty come, will we clench our fists and be manipulated by our fears? Or will we walk hand in hand with the One who calmed the sea? The grip of his firm but gentle hand will never abandon us. We may twist and bend with the storm but we will never break.

When the Chaldeans swept across the plains and knocked on the door of Israel, Isaiah affirmed, "When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you ... you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you." (Isaiah 43:1-2,4) Can you hear that voice of peace through the exploding thunder of our age?