I woke up at 4:30 AM today with that familiar weight sitting right on my chest. Before I even had a chance to say a morning offering, my mind was already racing through the "to-do" list, calculating how I was going to fix the things that felt broken and how I was going to finally get ahead of the curve. If you’ve ever felt like you’re constantly red-lining your engine just to stay in the same place, you know exactly where I was. It’s that exhausting internal rhythm of trying to be "enough" through sheer force of will. We row harder to fix our relationships, we row harder to climb the ladder at work, and we row harder to be the "perfect" version of ourselves. But eventually, the wind gets too strong, the water gets too rough, and we find ourselves three miles into a dark sea, wondering why we feel so alone.
Lately, I’ve been sitting with the story of the disciples on the Sea of Galilee in John 6. It’s a passage that has completely reframed my daily struggle. We often think that if we are doing what God wants, the path should be smooth. But look at these men: they were in that boat because they were following instructions. They were in a life-threatening storm precisely because they were being obedient. I’ve had to admit to myself that my "troubled waters" aren't always a sign that I’ve failed or taken a wrong turn. Sometimes, the storm is the very place where God intends to reveal who He is. The disciples weren't failing because they were struggling; they were just experiencing the limits of being human.
When they saw Jesus walking on the waves, the text says they were terrified. They didn't see a Savior at first; they saw a ghost or just another problem to deal with. Jesus speaks five words that change everything: "It is I; do not be afraid." In the original language, he says Egō eimi—"I AM." He isn't just identifying himself; he is claiming the very name of God. He’s telling them that the Sovereignty that created the waves is now standing on top of them. This is where mindful living moves from a "self-help" technique to a spiritual reality. It’s the practice of pausing mid-row—hands cramped and heart racing—and acknowledging the Presence that is already there. God isn't waiting for you to reach the shore so He can congratulate you on your effort; He is standing on the very waves that are scaring you right now.
I recently told a friend that it’s one thing to admit I need God, but it’s a whole different battle to actually stand by that when the pressure hits. Admitting we need help is an intellectual moment, but "standing" is a physical endurance test. Standing by the Word means that when the internal noise of fear starts screaming—when the project fails, or the house is a mess, or your own self-reliance tells you that you’re drifting into failure—you choose to stay in the "boat" of faith. You refuse to let the panic dictate your next move.
To live this out, I’ve had to change my daily mechanics. When I feel that urge to "row harder" out of pure panic, I stop. I take a deep breath and internally repeat those words: "It is I... do not be afraid." This isn't just about calming my nerves; it’s about tethering my soul to the reality of His Sovereignty. I’ve started looking at those thoughts that tell me I’m a "drifting failure" as distractions meant to make me abandon my peace. I’m learning to replace the "toiling in rowing" with a simple, willing invitation. Every morning, I try to physically open my hands and say, "Lord, I am willing to take You into this boat today. I’m dropping the oars."
The most beautiful part of the story is how it ends. The moment they were willing to take Him into the boat, they were immediately at the land where they were going. When we stop relying on our own frantic momentum and start relying on His Presence, the trajectory of our life shifts. We might still be in the middle of a difficult season, but our destination becomes secure because the "I AM" is with us. If you’re tired of the "same but different day" battle, I want to encourage you to stop trying to be the engine of your own salvation. You weren't meant to carry the weight of the storm. Glorify Him today not by how hard you can work, but by how radically you can depend on Him. Take Him into your boat, and let the rowing end.
What is one area of your life today where you can physically "drop the oars" and invite His presence in?