It’s a very
familiar story, the one where Christ goes to sleep in the boat in the midst of a terrible storm.
(Mk. 4:38) It is evening and the disciples are in the boat with Jesus.
They are crossing the Sea of Galilee when a great storm arises. The boat is
beaten by the wind and the waves; it is filling with water and ready to sink.
All the while, Jesus is asleep in the stern untroubled by the storm,
indifferent to their peril and unperturbed by their fear. We wonder why this
story was included in the Bible, because it shows Jesus in almost an uncaring
way. But I think it’s a little deeper
than that: There are two significant
things we could notice about the story.
One is the
nature of the call. Let us go to the
other side, he says, in the boat. He calls them, off the solid land onto the
storm-prone sea, at evening. And he
calls them to go to the other side, as though there is a purpose. There are many images in this narrative about
what following Jesus might mean. He
calls them out of their comfort zone, into peril, to an unknown place, for an
unknown purpose.
And then he goes
to sleep. That’s the second significant
thing.
Apparently, the Sea
of Galilee is prone to these storms, because it’s shallow, is below sea level
and is surrounded by hills, which act as a funnel, through which the wind whips
up storms. These storms are more likely
to occur at twilight, because of the cool night air blowing down onto the
relatively heated surface of the water.
Why did he do
this at such a precarious time? He must
have had some idea that the storm would blow up. Why was the storm permitted to
arise in the first place? He knew about all the mechanisms of nature (because
he was there at its creation). Did he
do this on purpose? It doesn’t seem to
equate with a loving, caring Shepherd. Yet, he did seem to call them knowingly
into perilous possibilities. Humanly, we
might even ask “If he really loved them, why would he put them at risk?”. We believe that God loves each of us. The Bible says he holds our tears in a bottle; that he knows us completely – he knows us by
name; he will provide for our needs. But
when storms strike, it’s sometimes hard to reconcile what we believe about God
in our heads, with the emotional and practical reality of our existence.
In his book, A Restless Faith, Keith Mascord explains
his journey to come to peace with this enigma. He tells of a terrible accident
what prompted him to search outside his Moore-College trained, fundamentalist
faith. He was a Minister in the Sydney
Anglican tradition at Wee Waa, and during his time there, one of his churchmen,
a farmer, backed over his little toddler son and killed him, then 11 months
later, his daughter was killed in a car accident, because she wasn’t wearing
her seat belt. The reason she wasn’t
wearing her seat belt, was because she’d had a previous accident and would have
been killed, if she’d been wearing her belt.
Keith Mascord questioned his fundamentalist faith, in the face of the
unimaginable suffering of these parents, and pondered all the whys and the hows
of God letting this happen. He
eventually came to re-evaluate his faith, from a very black-and-white Sunday
school understanding of God, to one which embraced much more of the mystery of
God, and a less rigid explanation of the suffering in the world. When we
consider the personal tragedies that people face every day and the global
crises that plague our world, we may also wonder if Jesus is asleep on the job.
The cries of the disciples are our cries too: "Teacher, do you not care
that we are perishing?"
The verses in
Job have wisdom to add here. Job was a man who seemed to be picked on by
God; it was as though God took bets with
the devil over Job. The devil said “I
bet I can do this or that terrible thing to Job, and he will abandon his faith
in you”. And God said “you’re on”. And when the terrible things happened, Job
felt abandoned by God, just like the disciples in the boat. Yet, in the end Job
came to realize that he was just part of a bigger picture… he was not the
Centre of the Universe and he had no right to tell God what to do. This seems harsh to us. It is harsh, but there
is great victory and strength in it too. When confronted by his Creator, Job, in spite
of everything that has happened to him, grasps the greatness, the mystery, the
goodness and the inscrutable wisdom of God. He learns about God’s sovereign grasp on our
world. In the midst of his suffering, Job declares, "I know that my
Redeemer lives and at the last he will stand upon the earth...then from my flesh
I shall see God." (Job 19:25). Job has found his way home the hard
way--through the path of being reduced to nothing but his bare skin and wretched
bones...he is raised by God's spirit to the soaring conviction that no matter
what happens to him, he belongs to God, and God will bring him to the divine
presence in glory” We too, discover that
when our Universe collapses, there is still God. We are humbled to discover
that we are not the Centre of God’s universe;
at the same time, we experience
the mercy and peace of the Christ who is willing to become like us and get into
the boat with us.
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 us, 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, are the blessedness of the presence and therefore the peace of
Jesus, even while the tumult rages.
It can be unwise
to directly link God’s caring of us, with our circumstances. I have a friend on Facebook, who has had a
pretty comfortable life. And I know, we
can’t always see behind closed doors, but in the overview of life she’s got a
lot to be thankful for… stable marriage, plenty of money, healthy kids,
grandkids, a job she loves. Sometimes
her posting to Facebook will be filled with exclamation marks and big smiley
faces…. Things like “I love my life. God
is so good”. Or, “flying out to Paris today, our God is wonderful!” There’s
nothing wrong with that. It’s giving God
the credit for our many blessings. But
if we only count the good circumstances of our life as proof of God’s favour
and love for us, then when the storm comes, we may want to abandon the faith
life altogether. A head knowledge faith, can be a fair weather faith.
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.
Finally, can I
share a lovely image of this seaside encounter with Jesus. In his book Letter to a Man in a Fire Reynolds Price tells of an elderly lady
who wrote to him about her experience of seeing Jesus more clearly. She was
facing her own “storm,” as she was going through exhausting medical tests in
preparation for surgery. One day an image came to her mind’s eye. "I went
out along the Galilee shore and came to a crowd gathered around a man, and I
stood on the outskirts intending to listen. But he looked over the crowd at me
and then said, 'What do you want?' And I said, 'Could you send someone to come
with me and help me stand up after the tests because I can't manage alone?' He
[Jesus] thought for a moment and then said, 'How would it be if I came?'"
(Letter to a Man in a Fire, 30-31)
“How would it
be if I came?" This is precisely what God has done in Jesus Christ. God
has come to us in our suffering and pain, in our struggle to be human, in our
fear and anxiety, and in our doubt and uncertainty. Jesus put off deity and put
on humanity. He became one of us--one with us--one for us.”
He
bids us follow him into the boat, without revealing where the other side might
be – without giving us a travel plan or sea sickness pills or life
jackets. He calls us to follow knowing
full well that the journey will involve setbacks and storms. But we have to get into the boat with him,
before He calms the storm or hands out the life jackets. Sometimes, indeed, he waits until the storm
is strongest before he acts. If we waited until all was prepared and ready and
known we might never go. And risk being
stranded on the shore for all eternity.
Lord of safe harbours. We know we are forgiven for all manner of our
frailty You are the same today as you were when you bid the waves and winds to
cease in the midst of the storm at Galilee.
You understand our fearfulness;
you speak the same words of peace to us. You hold the mystery to all which befalls
us; you always know the measure of our
endurance and faith, and will always command the storm to cease, before we
plunge beneath the waves. We know that
all things are under your control. You
can calm the storms we face; you can give
us peace while the storm rages. Blessed by your name O God.
