Ballast

Ballast is a heavy substance placed in such a way as to improve stability and control of a ship. Insufficiently ballasted boats will tend to tip, or heel, excessively in high winds. Too much heel may result in the boat capsizing.

Our pastor Josh has frequently mentioned that good theology is like ballast for a ship. It doesn’t prevent the storms from coming. And in great, fierce winds, it does not prevent the boat from rolling with the waves. But it keeps the boat upright. And when the storm dies down, instead of a wreckage on the floor of the ocean, you have a ship righted once again, floating securely.

You don’t add ballast in the middle of the storm. It’s too late once the ship starts to rock. Ballast is added in the calm protected waters of the shoreline, its sufficiency to be tested out in the open waters.

The first twenty-four hours or so after this potential diagnosis, similar to the last twenty-four hours after the last lethal diagnosis, I felt like I was on a ship being ferociously tossed by the waves. Rolling this way and that. And all I could do was cling to the side of the boat hoping that it would not go down. Is there enough ballast? Has the truth been buried deep enough within me? Will I survive this storm?

Praise Jesus, the answer both times has been yes. And as the ferocity of the storm dies down a bit, I find the ship sitting right side up. And I can keep sailing.

Don’t get me wrong. I know there are stormy seas ahead. I know that the unexplainable calm (that is, unexplainable if it weren’t for so many praying for us right now) of this morning is a respite, a breath between the tempests. But I know the one who commands the wind and the seas, and who knows exactly what this frail boat can withstand.

And so I breathe. Breathe in grace, breathe out praise.

Yesterday was a battle of the will. A forceful plodding step through the day. Right now, just make breakfast for your daughter. That’s done, just clean the dishes. Ok, get in the car. Go to the grocery store. Put one foot in front of the other, take a breath…and on through the day. Mercifully, so much of that weight has been lifted from my shoulders today. That is your working, my friends. That is the prayers of the saints. I cannot tell you how humbled I am by how many are praying.

Today I’ve been able to go down and inspect my ballast. Tossed by the waves yesterday, all I could do was hold on for dear life. Knowing the ballast was there, but not being able to parse through it, not being able to think logically and clearly that it was enough. But today, as the boat steadies, I examine that ballast. God is good. He is on His throne. He is not caught off guard. He is the knitter of this child and the sole determiner of her days. He will work for His glory and for my good. This is His story.

It is of the LORD’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies…So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:7-10, 16-18

Ballast, my friends. If there is one piece of advice I can give you, one thing I would ask you to do today, it is to go check your ballast. Have you stored enough ballast on your ship? Is it buried deep? Do you have truth that can keep you anchored when the storm comes? Do you know what a great and necessary gift that truth is?

I leave you with one little snippet about our Arabella that I failed to mention yesterday…she has hair! Did you know you can see hair on an ultrasound? Neither did I, but the tech doing our echo on Monday pointed out the very visible fuzz on her head. Those hairs are known and numbered. So we do not lose hope. We do not lose hope because our hope has not, does not, and will not rest in a specific outcome, but in One, who unlike the tides and the clouds above, does not change.

Ballast, my friends. Ballast.