Listening to the Lord’s Breath

“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.”

— Isaiah 30:15 (NKJV)

As I have been reflecting on what it means for Jesus to be in the boat — especially during a storm — I found myself thinking about something simple but profound: listening to Jesus’ breath.

The storm on Galilee must have been fierce that night. The wind howling, the waves breaking over the sides, and the disciples doing all they knew to do — rowing harder, bailing water, shouting to one another, each desperate to survive.
And still, the storm raged.

Then, in the midst of it all, a sound quieter than the storm — the sound of breathing.
Not hurried or anxious, but calm, steady, and sure.
Jesus — asleep.

I imagined one disciple, perhaps the youngest, hesitating in the chaos. While others battled the elements, he crept closer to where Jesus lay. There, in the midst of wind and water, he heard it — the soft rhythm of the Lord’s breath. Each rise and fall of His chest seemed to speak without words: Peace. Trust. Rest.

Something happened inside him. The panic loosened its grip. The noise outside didn’t change, but the noise within began to settle. That quiet sound reset his heartbeat, slowed his thoughts, and brought assurance that the Lord’s presence was enough.

He looked toward the others — soaked, exhausted, afraid — and whispered,

“It’s all right… the Lord is here. Sit down and rest.”

Perhaps he didn’t even know why he said it, but it was true. The breath of Christ carried more authority than the storm itself.

When my own mind feels loud, and the waves of worry rise, I remember that breath — not as a memory of the story, but as a living reality. His Spirit still breathes peace into those who will pause long enough to listen.

If I stop straining against the wind, sit still, and listen — really listen — I begin to hear it again.
And as I do, the storm may continue, but it no longer owns my heart.

“Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with his mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
— Psalm 131:2 (NKJV)

Before I can navigate the storm, I must first learn to rest in it.