Safe harbours. Mark 4:35-41

We, all of us, need a safe harbour to come home to, after a long voyage of suffering. For some of us, it’s our physical house; our loved ones; our life partner;  our friends.  These can all be a refuge and a listening ear when the boat of our soul sails through illness, betrayal, suffering, bullying or any other angst.

In the story of the storm at the Sea of Galilee, the disciples were afraid because Jesus was asleep in the boat, but then, he woke and commanded the sea to be calm and the wind to be still.

It’s been my experience that Jesus doesn’t always stop the troubles in my life straight away. He doesn’t always stop the frightening wind of change or forbid the thunder of sorrow. But He is always in the boat with me, standing at my shoulder;  His presence brings peace.  His peace is in the midst of the storm and the crashing waves.  And in the end, all storms have their season, and pass away. And when the storm has passed and we sail again to a safe harbour, our faith has grown strong, anchored, like a mighty lighthouse, in the bedrock of the sea.

It’s the involvement of God with us that is the great overcoming mystery.  Not the head knowledge;  not the doctrine, but the absolute certainty of knowing God is there.  And sometimes, we only really understand that fact, when the great billows rise and the wind howls. This is the wisdom of the Storm story. This is why Jesus calls them out in the boat, at evening.. He knows what storms will blow up in our lives and still bids US follow him into the boat. Otherwise, we’d stand alone, marooned on the rocky shore of our lifeless head knowledge. The sleet of life’s storms would still rain down on us, but if we never venture into the thrashing water, we will never experience the real Jesus;  the overcoming One;  the one who, even asleep, still knows the storm rages.  He wakes to our call.  Every time.

Perhaps that’s why the story is told the way it is – because we know Jesus even sleeping, is still with is, so the sleeping bit is like a metaphor which represents our interpretation of what we feel when he doesn’t stir and answer all our why questions and answer our prayers in the way we want.

The mystery and the blessing of the storms of our lives are all mixed in together.  It feels messy to us.  Life is messy, complicated, unexplained.  The blessing we finally learn from our wave tossed journeys, is the blessedness of the presence and therefore the peace of Jesus, even while the tumult rages.

The truth is that we live in a world which is defined at times by injury, loss, illness and death.  We all face our own storms and this story tells us, not so much why they happen – I’m not sure we can ever know that – but about how we can behave in the midst of them.  Of course, the disciples were afraid.  We also are afraid when terrible things happen.  And I think, it’s OK to cry to God, as the disciples did “Don’t you care?” Maybe that’s why this story records their reaction.  It’s like God is reaching down the years, saying to us “it’s OK to ask me why, or even why not”. But in the end, Jesus is the voice of calm, and he calls us to trust him over our fears.

Can we cultivate so firm and deep a trust in the wisdom and sovereignty of Christ that we do not fear following Him into the boat at evening, to go to the other side? The paradox is that until we step into the boat and until the storm arises, our faith can never be that firm or that deep. When we are in the thrashing unsafe boat and realize that He is still in control, our faith in His ability to either calm the storm, or calm our spirits, becomes rock solid.

Lord of the storm, we know that you are sovereign, and that ultimately you are Lord of tumult and darkness;  you are the victor over all that holds us in it’s thrall.  Yet, when our own storms crash in on us, we find ourselves afraid, like the disciples in the perilous boat, and we ask “don’t you care that we are perishing?”.  You know that when we face uncertainty or anguish we feel exposed and vulnerable.  We are tempted to abandon our faith in you. Forgive us our bewildered and stumbling trepidation and send us your peace.