There’s nothing like looking out over a 300-foot-wide by 6-mile-long wake in the middle of nowhere Atlantic Ocean to give you some perspective. This is my favorite place to worship. Something about the fear mingled with the very palpable presence of God in the vastness of ocean’s deep is unequalled.
Today, my playlist includes Believe, by Blessing Offor. The lyric, “If you don’t give me what I want, but You give me what I need… is that enough for me to believe?” is sticking to the roof of my mouth like too much peanut butter, and I’m trying to work it all out.
As a person who feels more anxiety than calm, I had to stop the song, hold my face in my hands, and say out loud, through peanut-butter-thick prayers, “Yes, I want to say yes. But why can’t I always, God, why don’t I?”
Here I am, on a cruise ship that has everything I need. A plethora of food whenever I want it. Entertainment galore. A comfortable room to retreat to and watch the sunset from. From the outside, it looks like the best life. But here’s the thing I’ve realized: having what I need doesn’t silence my craving for what I want.
When He gives you what you need (nothing to take care of), when what you want is to take care of everything (your environment, including the ground on which you walk, or in this case, the water on which you float), it can be hard to believe. I mean, I want to know storms won’t come. I want guarantees that the ship won’t go down, that I won’t get sick, that the ground I left all of you on won’t sink into the ocean, and strand me out here forever.
So yes, this ship is sufficient, but it’s a floating sufficiency surrounded by uncertainty. The story of my life, actually.
And that’s what that lyric said to me in my floating 5-star hotel. He’s given me everything I need. Daily bread. His presence. Grace for my weakness. But I want more, always more: control, certainty, immunity from the storms. I want guarantees He never promised.
But if He doesn’t give me what I want, but He gives me what I need—can I call that enough?
I don’t know, maybe the real “best life” isn’t the one where I finally get what I want, but the one where I finally believe His idea of what I need really is all I want. And right here, right now, that’s exactly what I’ve got.
I, too, don't understand why I struggle with inner turmoil much of the time when life is so good materially. I wonder if it's attributable to spiritual warfare more than we think.