I have spent most of my life trying to follow the teachings of this man named Jesus. It hasn’t always been easy, and I will be the first to admit that I haven’t always gotten it right. But there is something about Him that keeps drawing me back. Before you write me off and stop reading, I hope you’ll hear this: if you’ve been hurt by the church or someone who calls themselves a Christian, I understand how easy it can be to dismiss the Jesus story because of what someone claiming to follow Him has done or said. I get it. I’ve been there too. And I am a pastor! Some of my deepest wounds have come from those I was trying to love, lead, and help uncover what it really means to live like Jesus.

But here’s what I discovered: if you can briefly look past the mess and hypocrisy often linked to religion, especially Christianity, and simply see the words of Jesus for what they are—rather than what some preacher claims they are—you might notice something different. Observe how he lived, how he treated people, see how he moved to and stood up for others—you just might find someone worth knowing. Someone compelling, not after power, attention, or control, but a man who embraced the role of a servant. A healer. A teacher. A guide. Someone who wasn’t afraid of storms, or the wilderness, or the hard questions, or the pain. Someone who refused to preach from a platform or from a distance but moved into the storm to be next to us.

Photo by Nawfel Loudini on Unsplash

I mention all of that because I want to make sure you don’t miss a few really important ideas about living life like a palm tree. I know that just mentioning Jesus might be a turnoff, but there are some deep and compelling truths we can learn from his life. Like:

Jesus didn’t avoid the storm.

He moved into and through them with peace, presence, and purpose.

In the Gospels, there are several stories of Jesus involved in stormy moments. Some were actual storms with wind and waves, while others were relational storms caused by his disruption of the status quo. One story recounts Jesus and his disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in a boat. Jesus, feeling tired, lies down and takes a nap. While he is sleeping, a storm comes upon them, and the mostly fisherman disciples become scared, which shows this was no ordinary storm. Jesus stays asleep until they wake him. When he wakes, he isn’t overcome by fear like the disciples; he simply speaks, and the wind calms and the waves settle. 

There is another time when he had sent his disciples ahead of him, and while they were crossing, a storm arose, and again they were scared. This time, Jesus wasn’t with them in the boat but walked on water into the storm. He didn’t wait for the weather to clear; he went to the ones he cared about to offer peace. He wasn’t avoiding the storm; he entered into it.

That says something to me, and maybe to you as well.

If Jesus was willing to face the storms and enter into them, then why do we assume that our faith or whatever we trust will protect us from them? Why have we perpetuated the idea that intense struggle somehow equals failure? Or that pressure means we have done something wrong? Storms are simply part of life as much as we might wish they weren’t. However, this man Jesus shows us that it’s not about being stormproof, but rather storm-tested and resilient.

And this kind of storm-tested life is about learning how to lean with the wind by being fully present and choosing peace. It’s not easy, but it is possible. Currently, we have a family member who has received what many would call devastating news. To be honest, it has hit my wife and me pretty hard. But we have been amazed as we watch her navigate this storm—not being oblivious to the news, but choosing to be fully present to life today. Not letting panic dictate her actions, but opting to model peace for her kids and family.

I think one reason why so many have been turned off by Christians is that there is this kind of faith that tries to avoid the reality of life. It pretends that if you just believe enough or do enough, you won’t experience fear, doubt, or pain. But that doesn’t last long because, when storms come—and they are coming—the question isn’t did you pray enough or stay positive enough. The question is, what is something real you have anchored to?

Jesus was rooted, which gave him peace when the winds were whipping around and the waves threatened to capsize the boat. And that is the invitation to us. Anchor into something real. Have a root system that allows you to lean with the wind. 

Another important truth demonstrated by Jesus is: Spiritual strength shows in how we handle pressure.

We see this repeatedly in Jesus’ life. He was under constant pressure. When news spread that he was coming, crowds would rush to meet him—eager to see, touch, be healed, witness someone healed, hear his words, and more. The crowds desired something from him. The religious leaders, threatened by his popularity, aimed to trap him. Even his own disciples misunderstood him. Yet, Jesus never once reacted in panic. He stayed connected to his purpose. He would withdraw when he needed rest. He would speak the truth even when it was unpopular. And he chose to remain gentle in a world that was often harsh. 

That is what spiritual strength and maturity look like. It’s not about perfection, but about being present. It’s not forcefulness, but rootedness. It’s peacethat never turns to panic.

And when life’s storms come, this is what matters most.

You might feel overwhelmed right now. You could be going through a season of loss, confusion, or an unwanted transition. Maybe, if you’re honest, you’re burned out because life has just been too much. I understand. I have been there. If life seems to be falling apart faster than you can put it back together, you’re not alone. Perhaps the faith you grew up with no longer works for you or what you trusted in no longer feels reliable. It can be tempting to think that something is wrong with me.

But can I tell you something? You are not less spiritual because life is hard and you are struggling. You aren’t less than because what used to work has failed you. You aren’t loved less because life has become overwhelming. Asking deep questions doesn’t mean you are a failure. Even though Jesus encountered the storms with peace and presence, he still felt the weight of sorrow, the pressure of expectations, what it feels like to be betrayed.

And all of that brings me to this truth: You’re not alone in the storm.

When we are in the midst of a storm, it can often feel as if we are alone or that no one understands what we are dealing with. Even when life feels as if it is falling apart or that God is silent, we are not alone. You are not alone. There is a beautiful promise found in the book of Hebrews. The author of this book describes a race, and it’s not a sprint but a marathon. In the midst of this, you will find this encouragement: “Let us throw off everything that hinders us and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” 

This isn’t a call to do more or hustle harder. It’s a call to clarity — to let go of the weight we weren’t meant to carry, which robs us of peace, presence, and purpose. It’s a call to stop pretending we aren’t impacted. To fix our eyes not on the storm but on the one who not only understands them but meets us in them and offers to walk with us through them.

If he faced the wind, we can too. Not because we’re tough, but because we know where our strength comes from. Not because we have everything figured out, but because we understand we don’t have to face it alone. 

So, what does it mean to face your storm with presence instead of panic? To stay steady when the wind picks up? To be honest about the pressure instead of pretending it isn’t there?

It seems like pausing instead of pushing forward. It seems like reaching out instead of shutting down. It seems like breathing deeply, staying grounded, and remembering that you are not going through this alone. Even Jesus faced the wind, and so will we. But if we walk with Him, we don’t walk in fear.

You were never meant to avoid the storm. You were meant to endure it.

I would be honored to hear about the storm you’re facing and how you’re choosing to stay grounded, rooted in presence, peace, and purpose. Maybe Jesus isn’t your thing, but I still believe we can learn something about handling storms and finding people who will walk with us through them. Leave a comment or send me a message; I’d love to chat.