God of Calm

I have been around healthcare and education for more than a decade, so between patients and students, I've seen a lot of things. Not a lot phases me. (Actually, one of my early chaplain mentors already noticed that about me.) I have always said I'm one of those folks who can walk toward the darkness like it's nothing. 

It's because I understand human experience and human nature and trauma and all of that, at least to the degree that it gives me some confidence in dealing with whatever I encounter. I know there's more that I don't know than that I do know, but what I know is enough to keep me calm. 

I also have to confess, though, that it all still churns my stomach a bit. Once I get through it, that is.

Especially if love is involved.  

So some of my favorite stories in all the Gospels are the ones where Jesus encounters demons - like He does in Mark 9:20-21.

He's just so calm. 

Look at these stories.

The demons are screaming at Him. Kids are being thrown to the ground in seizures, foaming at the mouth. A naked man has broken his chains and is pacing around. Parents are crying and screaming, holding their kids. Everything is absolute pandemonium and total fear - there are demons. 

And Jesus very calmly has a few conversations. He asks what's going on. He asks for more information. I can picture Him standing there, chewing on a piece of hay sticking out of His mouth, quietly, calmly just talking through the situation. 

Then, when it's time, He speaks. He doesn't yell. He doesn't raise His voice. He doesn't make a show of it. He just speaks, says what He needs to say, and casts the demon away without any hesitation at all. 

It's quite the contrast.

But I think it's the same kind of things that help me stay calm in nearly any situation - it's understanding. Jesus knows the human condition. He knows the human experience. He knows what demons are like, and He's seen plenty of them, even before He got here in His flesh. 

He's not intimidated. That's the crux of it all - He's simply not intimidated. 

I think it makes Him sick to His stomach a bit. It has to, to see someone He loves so afflicted. To see what trauma can do. To see and to know the pain that is happening right in front of Him. He wouldn't be human - or loving - if it didn't make Him a little sick. 

And I think love complicates it, too. It's just harder when this life, this enemy, this darkness has a grip on someone you love. 

But still, He's calm. And I think that's remarkable. 

It gives me something to strive for as I come alongside others in their dark moments.

Because we all need someone who isn't shaken standing next to us when we are.