It's Not Over: Don't Write the Last Page of a Story God Is Still Authoring

I have been around this story so many times I almost stopped reading it. Jesus says, "Let's go to the other side." They push off. He falls asleep. A squall comes down. The boat fills up. The disciples are bailing water with their bare hands. They wake Him up screaming, "Master, we're perishing." He stands. He speaks. The wind stops. The sea goes glass. He turns to them and says, "Where is your faith?"

I know that story. You probably know that story. And that is exactly the problem.

We're really good at knowing the right thing. Don't negotiate with a toddler. Don't send the email when you're angry. Comparison is the thief of joy. Give it to God. We can recite the line. We just can't always reach it when life actually hits. There is a gap between what we know and what we hold onto when the wind comes up. So if you are in a storm right now — financial, relational, in your own head, in your own marriage, with a kid you can barely sleep about — I want you to receive this fresh today, not as a Bible study line you already have on a coffee mug. Three words: it's not over.

Here's the first thing I notice. Jesus got them into this. "Let us go over to the other side." Four words. That was the whole plan. The boat, the storm, the bailing, the panic — all of it started with Jesus saying go. So how did you get into your storm? You can probably trace it back, and if you're honest, most of the time it started with a prayer. A marriage you asked God for. A job you asked God for. A move, a kid, a hard decision. The burden began as a blessing. And the question is — if Jesus got you into this, did He mess up?

No. He doesn't make mistakes. He knows what it takes to form you. Happiness isn't the goal. Holiness is. And if holiness is the goal, easy seasons don't quite do the work. Storms do. Charles Spurgeon said, "I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages." Every time the storm shows up, if I let it do its work, it throws me against the only thing that holds. God, I need You. God, without You I have nothing. That is not a wasted storm. That is a forming one.

Second — Jesus is not worried. The wildest line in the whole passage is that He is asleep. Not absent. Not checked out. Just not panicked. Not in the slightest. And I remember several years ago I was studying this passage on my back porch, the old paper Bible, and the Colorado wind blew the page back a chapter. Luke 7. And the Lord said: back up a chapter, Petie. Because in Luke 7, Jesus heals a centurion's servant from across town. In Luke 7, He brings a widow's son back to life in the middle of a funeral. In Luke 7, He forgives a notorious sinner everybody else had given up on. That's why He's asleep in chapter 8. He has already done what you don't think can be done.

Back up a chapter in your own life. The crisis a year ago that you were sure was going to wreck you? You're past it. The bill that wouldn't get paid? It got paid. The marriage you thought was over? You're sitting next to her this morning. The mental health season that almost ate you alive? You made it out. I look back and see You are faithful. I look ahead believing You are able. That is not denial. That is memory doing its job.

Third — and this is the line I want you to write down. The disciples did not just panic. They declared. "We are perishing." That word in the original language is appolumi. Complete, irreversible destruction. Not "we're scared." Not "this is hard." Game, set, match. It is over. They wrote the last page of the story before Jesus had even moved. And how many of us are out here doing the same thing right now? Declaring an ending too early on a marriage God still has plans for. On a kid you wrote off. On a friendship you assumed was dead. On a career door that has not opened yet. On a person you have been praying for who will not give God a chance — yet.

Don't you dare write the last page. Jesus didn't say faith doesn't exist. He said, where is yours? Where did you put it? You're supposed to use it right here. Faith isn't the absence of fear. Faith is refusing to write the last page of a story that God is still authoring.

Here's how we know He is still writing. There was one storm Jesus did not sleep through. They nailed Him to a cross. The devil thought he had won. The sky went black. The disciples scattered. The sin that separated us from God was loaded onto Him. And He carried every ounce of it. And then He looked up, and He said three words of His own. It is finished. Death, where is your sting. Grave, where is your victory. It is over because God said it is over — and what He ended at the cross was your distance from the Father.

So if you are in a storm right now, hear this. He got you in. He is not worried. And it is not over until He says it's over. Speak your faith out loud this week, even if your voice shakes when you do.

We'd love to have you join us on Sunday.