God with You in Life's Rising Floods

Devotional

Day 1: When Darkness Broods and the Spirit Hovers

The ancient Hebrew phrase "tohu vabohu" describes the formless, chaotic deep before creation. Yet even in that swirling darkness, the Spirit of God moved over the waters like a mother bird sheltering her young. Chaos does not frighten God. He speaks light into voids, order into confusion, and dry land into floodwaters. His presence broods over every personal crisis—the phone call that shatters normalcy, the diagnosis that steals breath, the grief that feels like drowning. Wherever chaos threatens, the Creator is already at work. [43:10]

And the earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. (Genesis 1:2, ESV)

Reflection: Where do you sense the Spirit “hovering” in your current chaos? What might it look like to trust His nearness before the light breaks through?

Day 2: Arks Built in the Shadow of Floods

Noah hammered planks while neighbors mocked, building salvation in the shape of a boat. The fountains of the deep burst forth anyway, but the ark floated on the very chaos that destroyed others. God doesn’t always still the storm—sometimes He builds a vessel within it. Our “arks” might look like daily disciplines, stubborn prayers, or community that holds us when the waters rise. Survival begins long before the rain falls. [44:58]

In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, in the second month, on the seventeenth day of the month, on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened. And rain fell upon the earth forty days and forty nights. (Genesis 7:11–12, ESV)

Reflection: What “ark” is God inviting you to build in this season? How does His past faithfulness shape your obedience today?

Day 3: Scarred Hands Over Churning Waters

Jesus’ final breath on the cross was a surrender: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” He inhaled the chaos of sin, death, and separation so we might breathe His peace. His resurrected hands—still scarred—prove that love outlives the flood. When the waters rise, we’re not clinging to abstract hope but to the One who let the waves crash over Him first. [52:28]

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. (Luke 23:44–46, ESV)

Reflection: How do Jesus’ scars reframe your fear of drowning? What might it mean to commit your chaos into His wounded hands?

Day 4: The Rainbow After the Third Time Down

Baptismal water recalls both the flood and the rescue. Like Noah, we’re saved through water, not from it. The promise isn’t avoidance—it’s presence. “I am with you always” echoes over ER waiting rooms, divorce papers, and battlefields. The rainbow arcs not because storms cease, but because the One who walked through the deepest flood walks with us still. [57:39]

Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:19–20, ESV)

Reflection: How does “I am with you always” shift your relationship to fear? Where do you need to plant this promise like an anchor today?

Day 5: When Six Inches of Water Steals Your Traction

Chaos often seeps through cracks in ordinary days—a doctor’s tone, a missed call, a flicker in the car’s headlights. The psalmist didn’t downplay the waves; he named them as they swept over his head. Yet even in the churn, God’s breath sustains. Survival isn’t about strength but surrender—to the One who breathes into dust and calms storms with a word. [48:06]

Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. (Psalm 42:7–8, ESV)

Reflection: What “six inches of water” are threatening your traction? How might lament—raw honesty before God—become your lifeline today?

Sermon Summary

Genesis sets the scene with the deep, a roiling, lightless waste, and the Spirit of God brooding over the waters. The text names that chaos with a sound that fits the feeling itself, tohu vobohu, and then records the voice that pushes it back. God says, let there be light, and there is light. God calls forth dry land, and it is so. Creation begins where chaos is checked and bordered by the word of God, and the world is called good.

That same deep surges again in Noah’s day. The fountains of the great deep burst, the windows of heaven open, and everything not sealed into the ark goes under. For one hundred and fifty days the tohu vobohu prevails. Yet again God pushes the waters back, sets the ark down on solid ground, and bends a rainbow across the sky. Never again, God promises, will the waters get the last word.

Scripture keeps telling that same story. In the wilderness, Israel meets scarcity, and God answers with manna, quail, and water from a rock. Elijah, spent and hunted, wakes to cakes on hot stones and strength for the journey. Daniel hears lions go quiet. The pattern holds. Chaos rises. God provides. The waters threaten. God keeps carving out livable ground.

Life confirms it. A quiet day turns with a midnight phone call, a lab result, a diagnosis, a crisis on the news, a sudden storm. The feeling is familiar, like going down for the third time, like six inches of water that can sweep a car away, like normal cells that suddenly forget their limits. Existence rides on a thin crust of order, and the sea bubbles up from beneath.

But the Spirit is still brooding. The gospel puts Christ’s promise into the church’s ears. Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. He speaks that to disciples who will be dragged into their own dark waters. He speaks as the One who has already gone under. On the cross, under a noon-day darkness, he entrusts his spirit to the Father. On the third day, standing with nail-scarred hands, he says, See, it is I. The crucified and risen One has met the deep and returned alive.

So when the reports are good but the fear still lingers, when the sun is out yet the darkness could be one call away, the baptismal word remains. Tohu vobohu is no match for God. Jesus Christ has overcome sin, death, and evil, and he keeps saying, I am with you always.

Key Takeaways

1. The Spirit broods over chaos The opening picture is not a neat workshop but a hovering Presence over a seething deep. Creation begins with companionship before it becomes order, God’s nearness before God’s naming. When life churns, the first gift is not explanation but the Spirit’s steadying nearness that refuses to leave the waters to themselves. Presence precedes peace, and then produces it. [51:07]
2. God keeps pushing waters back From Genesis to the wilderness road, the pattern is durable. The floods rise, but God draws lines they cannot cross and provides what survival needs until they recede. The rainbow does not deny the storm; it testifies to a boundary mercy has set. Hope rests not on the sea behaving, but on God answering. [45:29]
3. Christ meets death and speaks peace The cross is the deepest plunge into tohu vobohu, darkness at noon and breath running out. Yet the last word on those waters was trust, and the next word was resurrection. When the risen Jesus says, See, it is I, he does not offer a concept but a scarred presence that has authority in every undertow. [52:49]
4. Baptism seals presence in storms The promise I am with you always is not a vague comfort; it is a name signed over a life. Baptism stitches a person’s story into Christ’s, which means no flood can be the whole story anymore. Memory becomes a weapon, recalling a word wet on the forehead when the phone rings at midnight. [53:50]
5. Fear is real, not final The call in the night, the scan that needs another look, the thin crust of stability that cracks, all of it is real. Faith does not pretend the water is shallow; it remembers who walks on it and who speaks to it. Courage is not noise but endurance born from a louder promise. [46:39]

Youtube Chapters

[00:00] - Welcome
[37:14] - Grace named and promise recalled
[41:47] - Drowning grief and the third time
[42:31] - Rising waters in Scripture’s voice
[43:38] - Saying the word tohu vobohu
[43:51] - Let there be light and land
[44:35] - Noah and the bursting deep
[45:29] - Rainbow and the never again promise
[45:50] - Manna, Elijah’s cakes, and quiet lions
[46:39] - The midnight call and quiet panic
[47:43] - How little it takes to drown
[49:12] - Pearl Harbor and a world overturned
[51:07] - The Spirit brooding over the waters
[51:52] - I am with you always
[52:28] - Cross, trust, and resurrection
[53:35] - Tohu vobohu is no match for God

Bible Study Guide

Bible Reading
- Genesis 1:1-2 (ESV): "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters."
- Genesis 9:11-13 (ESV): "I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth. And God said, 'This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.'"
- Matthew 28:20 (ESV): "Teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

Observation questions

In Genesis 1:2, the Hebrew phrase "tohu vobohu" describes chaos. What imagery does the sermon use to explain this term, and how does it connect to modern experiences of crisis? [43:38]
What specific examples from Scripture (e.g., Noah, Elijah, Daniel) show God pushing back chaos, and what did He provide in each situation? [45:50]
How does the sermon link Jesus’ scars to His authority over fear and chaos? [52:49]
What promise does the sermon associate with baptism, and how is it described as a weapon against despair? [53:50]

Interpretation questions

Why might God allow chaos to exist if He has the power to push it back immediately? How does His timing in Scripture (e.g., the flood, the cross) inform this?
The rainbow is called a "boundary mercy has set" rather than a denial of storms. What does this imply about the relationship between God’s promises and ongoing struggles? [45:29]
Jesus says, "I am with you always" to disciples who would face persecution and death. How does His presence change the way we endure suffering, even if He doesn’t remove it?
The sermon says, "Fear is real, not final." How does Christ’s resurrection redefine the outcome of fear without erasing its immediate reality?

Application questions

When have you felt "tohu vobohu" in your life—a situation where everything seemed formless or void? How did you experience God’s presence or provision in that chaos?
The rainbow symbolizes God’s faithfulness even after destruction. What tangible reminder (like a symbol, habit, or ritual) could you use to recall His promises when storms arise?
The sermon ties baptism to the truth that "no flood can be the whole story." How might intentionally remembering your baptism reshape your response to a current fear or crisis?
Jesus’ scars are described as proof He "met the deep and returned alive." When facing a challenge, how could focusing on His victory rather than your uncertainty change your perspective?
Think of someone in your life drowning in chaos. What practical way could you reflect God’s "steadying nearness" to them this week?
The phrase "I am with you always" is called a "louder promise" than fear. What specific fear or anxiety do you need to confront with this truth today?

Sermon Clips

40s

“In such moments when the earth shakes, the mountains crumble, and chaos bubbles forth, the spirit of god, the holy spirit hovers over us, surrounds and breathes into us his life giving presence. Our lord says as much in the gospel today. Today, speaking to his disciples and us, he promises, and remember, I'm with you always until the end of the age. The lord says these words to the disciples who themselves will experience the swirling dark waters of fear and death.”

45s

“And three days later, our risen lord and savior stands before the men who followed him. He raises his nails, scarred hands, and says to them, and to us, see, it is I. So when you were almost breathing easy again, but not yet after your fourth successive good report since your cancer surgery. When you, on whom the sun shines today, but for whom the darkness is only a telephone call away. You, who may be waist deep in the churning waters of doubt and uncertainty. You need to hear the message.”

50s

“Nothing to be alarmed about. Come could you come back first thing in the morning? And though your family doctor showed a studied, careful lack of alarm, You can almost smell it seeping through the cracks in the floor, a silent foreboding rumbling underneath what began as an ordinary day, and it ends in the swirling waters of fear and uncertainty. What does that feel like? Like you were going down for the third time? Like the floodwaters are rising? As you worry over the morning visit, you gasp for air as you tread water. And as it is your turn for a little taste of tohu or bohu.”

31s

“But I want you to notice one verse in today's reading in Genesis, and the spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters. The spirit of God was moving over the depths of the sea. In Hebrew, it reads, and the spirit of god was brooding over the face of the waters. The good news is that we are not abandoned by god in those times when our world is falling apart, coming apart at the seams.”

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Elizabeth Lutheran Church (Caldwell) This sermon · AI assistant

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