God's Unseen Hand: Finding Divine Purpose in Your Struggles
The Night the Sea Roared
The boat pitched violently as another wave crashed over the bow. Salt spray stung the disciples' faces as they frantically bailed water. These were seasoned fishermen—men who had spent their lives on the Sea of Galilee—yet now they gripped the rails with white-knuckled terror.
And Jesus? He slept. Not just lightly dozing, but deeply resting, His head on a cushion as if the howling wind were a lullaby (Mark 4:38).
"Teacher!" they shouted, shaking Him awake. "Don't You care that we're drowning?"
Have you ever cried out like that?
"God, don't You see my marriage falling apart?"
"Lord, don't You care about this diagnosis?"
"Why won't You do something?"
Yet Jesus didn't apologize for sleeping. He stood in the rocking boat, faced the chaos, and spoke three words that changed everything: "Peace, be still!" (Mark 4:39).
Instantly, the wind died. The waves flattened like a smoothed sheet. The disciples' fear of the storm became awe of the Man who commanded it.
"Who is this?" they whispered. "Even the wind and waves obey Him!" (Mark 4:41).
Here's what we often miss: The real miracle wasn't the calm—it was the presence of the One who brought it.
The Deeper Lesson in the Storm
Jesus could have prevented the storm. Instead, He permitted it to teach them—and us—profound truths:
His peace is greater than our panic (Philippians 4:7)
His presence is our safety (Psalm 46:1)
Our storms reveal His power (John 11:4)
That night, the disciples learned what you and I must remember: The same God who calms the sea is in your boat right now.
When God Seems Late: The Lazarus Paradox
The message reached Jesus urgently: "Lord, the one You love is sick" (John 11:3).
Anyone reading this expects Jesus to rush to Bethany. Instead, Scripture says He stayed where He was two more days (John 11:6). By the time He arrived, Lazarus had been dead four days.
Martha met Him on the road, grief sharpening her words: "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:21).
Ever felt that sting of divine delay?
"God, if You'd intervened sooner..."
"If You'd answered when I first prayed..."
Yet Jesus hadn't forgotten. He was setting the stage for a greater revelation:
"Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" (John 11:40).
Then He shouted toward the tomb—not a plea, but a command: "Lazarus, come out!"
And death itself coughed up its prey.
The Seven "I AM" Revelations
This miracle coincides with Jesus' powerful declaration: "I am the resurrection and the life" (John 11:25). It's one of seven "I AM" statements in John's Gospel, each revealing His divine nature:
"I am the bread of life" (John 6:35)
"I am the light of the world" (John 8:12)
"I am the door" (John 10:9)
"I am the good shepherd" (John 10:11)
"I am the resurrection and the life" (John 11:25)
"I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6)
"I am the true vine" (John 15:1)
Your darkest hour isn't proof of God's absence—it's the canvas for His greatest masterpiece.
The Furnace That Couldn't Burn
The king's decree was clear: Bow to the golden image or burn.
Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego didn't flinch. Their response echoes through history:
"Our God can deliver us... But even if He doesn't, we won't serve your gods" (Daniel 3:17-18).
Nebuchadnezzar ordered the furnace heated seven times hotter. The flames killed the soldiers who threw them in. But when the king looked inside, he saw four figures walking unharmed—and "the fourth looks like a son of the gods!" (Daniel 3:25).
Three Miracles in the Fire
The bonds burned away—Only what restrained them was destroyed
They walked freely—No smell of smoke on their clothes
Christ appeared with them—The pre-incarnate Son of God
Early church fathers saw this as a Christophany—a visible appearance of Christ before Bethlehem. The message? God doesn't always deliver us from the fire—He meets us in it.
Modern-Day Furnaces
Joni Eareckson Tada's story embodies the paradox of finding God in life's fiercest storms. At 17 years old, a diving accident left her paralyzed from the neck down, plunging her into a sea of despair where she cried out the same agonizing question as the disciples: "God, don't You care?" For months, her prayers for healing went unanswered, and her initial rage at God mirrored Martha's anguished "if You had been here..." Yet in her darkest valley, Joni discovered what Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego learned in the furnace—that Christ's presence eclipses even the most devastating circumstances. "My wheelchair pushed me into the arms of Jesus," she later testified. "That intimacy is worth more than walking." Her life became a living psalm, proving that when God seems silent, He's often doing His deepest work—transforming bitter waters into wells of hope (Exodus 15:25).
Like Lazarus' resurrection after four days of decay, Joni's story reveals God's power to bring life from death. Where the world saw only tragedy, God orchestrated a testimony that has since ministered to millions through her paintings (created with a brush held in her teeth), her books, and her global disability ministry. Her journey mirrors the three Hebrew men—not delivered from the fire, but delivered through it with a faith refined like gold (1 Peter 1:7). When she battled cancer decades after her paralysis, she clung to the same truth that sustained her in the storm: "God permits what He hates to accomplish what He loves." Just as Jesus used Lazarus' death to reveal His glory, Joni's sufferings have become a canvas for divine grace, proving that our weakest moments are where Christ's strength shines brightest (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Like the three Hebrews, she discovered: Our greatest trials often become our most sacred encounters with God.
The Psalms: Ancient Songs for Modern Storms
When the Shadows Lengthen: David's Songs for the Storm-Tossed Soul
The shepherd king knew a thing or two about dark valleys. Hunted like an animal by Saul. Betrayed by those he trusted. Forced to flee from his own son. Yet in the rubble of broken dreams, David penned words that would comfort millions—words born not in theory, but in the furnace of real suffering.
Take Psalm 23. That famous valley? The Hebrew calls it "tsalmavet"—a place of deep, suffocating darkness. Not the shadow of death, but death's very shadow. Yet notice David's defiant declaration in the midst of it: "You are with me." Not "You were with me." Not "You will be with me." But right now, in this terrifying place—You. Are. Here. The shepherd's presence changes everything. Darkness may surround you, child of God, but it will never overcome you.
Then there's Psalm 46—what we might call the earthquake psalm. "God is our refuge and strength." The Hebrew phrase "nimtsa me'od" paints a stunning picture: God isn't just available; He's exceedingly findable. When the ground shakes beneath your feet, when life's foundations crumble, you don't need to search far. He's right there—your unshakable refuge in the chaos.
And Psalm 91? It begins with a verb that changes everything: "dwells." Not visits. Not drops by. But lives in the shelter of the Most High. This is the secret—abiding, remaining, putting down roots in God's presence before the storm hits. Because when you make your home in Him, no disaster can destroy you.
Here's the beautiful truth: The same God who walked with David through his valleys, who anchored him in earthquakes, who sheltered him in storms—He's your shepherd today. And His faithfulness isn't bound by time.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18).
So take heart. However dark the valley, however violent the storm—you're walking in the footsteps of a shepherd king who discovered this truth: The shadow may be real, but the Shepherd is nearer still.
New Testament Anchors: Romans 8 Unpacked
Let me tell you about a letter that changes everything. It’s tucked right there in your Bible, eight chapters into Romans, written by a man who knew suffering better than most. Shipwrecks. Beatings. Prison cells. And yet, Paul writes with the confidence of a man who has discovered an unshakable truth: what God is doing in you is far greater than what’s happening to you.
He begins with perspective. "Our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us" (Romans 8:18). The Greek is striking—"Ouk axia pros tēn mellousan doxan"—meaning these trials don’t even belong in the same conversation as the coming joy. It’s like comparing a flickering candle to the noonday sun. And then Paul makes this breathtaking observation: All creation is groaning as in the pains of childbirth (Romans 8:22). Those aches in your soul? That longing for things to be made right? They’re not random. They’re contractions—signs that something glorious is coming.
But here’s where it gets personal. When the pain runs too deep for words, when all you can muster is a groan, the Spirit steps in. He intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:26). Picture that. The God of the universe leans in close, cups His hands around your wounded heart, and whispers your name to the Father. You’re not praying alone.
And then—oh, then—Paul traces the unbreakable chain of God’s love: Foreknown. Predestined. Called. Justified. Glorified (Romans 8:29-30). Not one link in that chain can be broken. Not by failure. Not by grief. Not even by death. Which is why Paul can thunder with absolute confidence: "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31).
That’s the promise, child of God. Your story isn’t over. The storm isn’t the end. And the One who calmed the sea with a word? He’s holding you through every wave.
"Neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:39).
Now take a deep breath. And believe it.
When You Can't See His Hand: Three Truths to Cling To
He is in your boat—Even when He seems silent
He is outside your tomb—Working when all hope seems lost
He is in your fire—Not just preserving you, but freeing you
"The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love" (Zephaniah 3:17).
Hold on, weary heart.
The same voice that hushed the wind walks with you now.
And His promise stands eternal:
"Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5).
A Prayer for the Storm
Almighty God,
These waves may be high, but I know You’re about to speak 'Peace, be still!' to my storm! The fire may be hot, but like the three Hebrew boys, I’m coming out without even the smell of smoke! This tomb may seem sealed, but just like Lazarus, I hear You calling me into resurrection life!
I’m not just asking for comfort—I’m expecting deliverance! I trust that right now, You’re turning what was meant for my harm into my greatest victory. I declare that this trial is no match for Your power! I may not see the way yet, but I know You’re making a way.
So I stand on Your promises—no weapon formed against me will prosper! What the enemy meant for evil, You’re turning for good! Greater is He that is in me than he that is in the world!
I thank You now for the breakthrough, for the answered prayer, for the miracle on the way. I’m not just surviving—I’m thriving because my God is fighting for me!
In the mighty name of Jesus—the Name above every name, the Name that calms storms and raises the dead—Amen and Amen!"*
Now declare this over your situation: "This is my season of victory! God is shifting things in my favor! What was dead is coming back to life! I receive my miracle NOW!"