I’m not my savior
By Jessica Brodie
I’d been through harder things in life, but this particular week had me on my knees.
Between kid demands and colossal work deadlines, I had a major case of stress overload, and my schedule wouldn’t let up anytime soon. By Wednesday, I had a killer headache, and by Friday, I was catching ten-minute naps in my minivan during car line just to stay sane.
“Mommy’s just a little edgy,” I’d apologize after snapping at the kids instead of counting to ten.
When I woke up with my jaw clenched tight from grinding my teeth all night, full-on dreading the day ahead instead of steeped in gratitude, I knew something had to change. This maxed-out girl was headed for a nervous breakdown.
I lay there in bed, eyes squeezed shut and head buried beneath my pillow, unable to form a coherent prayer in my brain, let alone figure out my way through this mess, and my soul cried out with all its might.
Help. God, please—just help.
It’s funny, isn’t it? The last thing we think to do sometimes is turn to the Lord. In our pride, we think we should be able to handle the demands of life like a champion, slaying obstacles with ease and taking challenges in stride. When our humanity catches up with us as it inevitably does, and we have an off day or week or year, when we fumble and falter or plunge into a hole and can’t claw our way out, we get mad at ourselves.
If I could only…
Get enough sleep.
Clear my head.
Catch a break.
Learn to say no.
Manage my time better.
But that’s the thing: even if I could do all those things and then some, hard times still happen. Stress, sickness, death, or difficulty can level me with a single shove. And that’s when I realize what I always wish I’d remember from Day One: I’m not my savior—Jesus is.
I know this, of course. But my foolish human arrogance makes me sometimes ignore it and think I can solve my problems on my own. I turn inward, look for my rescue in every way but up.
But in looking up, in reaching out, that’s when I find relief.
God knows His children struggle with this, and I imagine that’s why He included so many stories throughout the Bible pointing to Jesus for salvation. For instance, take the story of Peter and the other disciples in the boat within the Gospel of Matthew.
After Jesus fed the 5,000, He’d departed for some quiet solo prayer time, ordering His disciples to hop in their boat and sail to the other side of the lake. Far from shore, a nasty storm arose. Waves battered the boat. Around three a.m., the disciples looked into the night and began to scream—there, upon the water, was a man! Walking straight toward them! “It’s a ghost!” they shrieked, terrified (14:26).
But it wasn’t a ghost. It was Jesus. Jesus called to them, reassuring the men everything was OK, that it was Him, that they should be encouraged. But Peter, being Peter, wanted proof.
“Lord, if it’s you, order me to come to you on the water,” Peter said (Matthew 14:28 CEB). Jesus did, and Peter began to do the impossible. He, too, walked on the choppy water. Can you imagine his friends’ reaction?
Then, the inevitable happened. Peter saw the strong wind and became frightened. He faltered and began to fall.
“As he began to sink, he shouted, ‘Lord, rescue me!’ Jesus immediately reached out and grabbed him” (Matthew 14:30-31).
Isn’t that the way it always is in life? We start to walk in faith, and just like Peter on the water, at first everything is just fine. Then something happens—calamity befalls, or we lose our nerve—and we start to sink.
If I could only remember the example we get in the Gospel of Matthew, I know I’d save myself a ton of time, suffering, and aggravation. For right there in Peter’s reaction and Jesus’s response, we see what we’re supposed to do when we begin to sink: Not try to fix things ourselves, but call out to Jesus.
Reach out. Look up. Cry, “Lord, rescue me!”
And in Him find the relief we so desperately crave.
The morning I hit my breaking point, the morning my heart finally cried out to God “Help,” was when I began to find relief.
And I pray the next time I encounter a difficulty, I’ll try do the same. Except, instead of waiting a week or three, I hope I remember the model God gives us in Peter and immediately cry out for holy rescue.
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