A Boat For Rough Seas
Preaching
The Miracles Of Jesus And Their Flip Side
Miracle narratives from the Revised Common Lectionary with a fresh look at the other side of the story
When rough seas and wild storms rage about us,
there is one who can speak the word of blessed calm,
to still the turmoils which often so threaten us.
Yet, best of all, guide us through while winds rage on.
There are times when our lives are so very difficult, so fast and busy, and we are so tired we just want to get away for a while. It had been such a time for Jesus.
There are days when all kinds of struggle, pain, and misfortune enter our lives that we question if God cares or is even awake and notices. That's the way it was one early evening on the Sea of Galilee.
So Jesus said to his disciples, let's take one of these fishing boats and get away from this crowd so we can have a little peace and quiet. He no more got into the stern of the boat before he was sound asleep, exhausted from all the healing and teaching and pressure of the crowds who were now pursuing him.
That lake called Gennesaret is 680 feet below sea level, surrounded by deep gorges down which a cold wind rushes out and upon the calm sea with suddenness. The calm of one moment may be the raging storm of the next.
I have crossed over that lake several times and have seen the red flags which the boats with one mast and one triangular sail hoist in the bow to warn of this always present danger of storm.
So suddenly, what Mark calls "a furious squall came up" (Mark 4:37a). The small whitecaps became enormous waves which washed over the port and starboard gunnels. The boat was about to be swamped.
Those who heard Peter tell his eyewitness report of this frightening time wrote it down in their Gospel accounts for us to hear even today.
Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
-- Mark 4:38-39
For 2,000 years we preachers have told and retold this familiar story as a wonderful miracle of rescue. The storm was evidently more than even those experienced Galilean sailors could handle, so Jesus, proving to them his power even over nature, told the wind and the water to be quiet. As frequently happens over a longer time period, it was calm.
There are wonderful things to learn from this frightening experience of the disciples.
Some would say the disciples told the story as proof that Jesus was really the powerful Messiah who the Old Testament had promised would come. The one about whom the psalmists wrote: "You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them" (Psalm 89:9).
Storms do come into all our lives no matter how strong our faith or how good our discipleship. And they can rage furiously, yet come unexpectedly and blow on and on and on.
In times like these we have a rescuer, one with great power to calm the furious water and wind.
Who here hasn't known the troubled water of deep sorrow, doubt, pain, anxiety, passion, temptation, and my big one -- worry?
The plea of an old time gospel writer, Fanny Crosby, is often ours also: "Rescue the perishing, Care for the dying; Jesus is merciful, Jesus will save." A more contemporary song writer called our need "the bridge over troubled waters."
So the traditional, more conservative approach to this miracle of subduing wild storms into calm seas and wind is to draw the conclusion that to be in the same boat with Jesus is to have the seas calmed. It announces that whenever Jesus comes into life, its storms become quiet.
One writer said that this is a case of faith being tested and revealed like ours in all its frailty. Others offer words of profound comfort in saying that to be with Jesus means our storms will cease.
I'm just not sure this is the case. I think we have to question from our own experience whether Jesus calms our stormy situations of life. For instance, I wonder if the other boats along with Jesus' boat also experienced a calming of the sea that evening.
So here is the flip side of this miracle of Jesus: Perhaps Jesus' calming was not so much the waves and the wind on Galilee that day, but rather the fear and panic in the hearts of those sailor-disciples.
I've often wondered at the Transfiguration of our Lord upon the mountain -- who really changed, the physical appearance of Jesus, or the disciples seeing him for the first time in a new light. So too here, I wonder if the storm didn't so much change as did the disciples' courage to get through it.
We all face the reality that no matter how religious we are, no matter how hard and often we ask God to take away our storms in life, they still rage on. What helps us weather the storm, no matter how frightening, fierce, and painful it may be, is God's presence and God's people with us.
Our rescue is not so much the absence of trouble, but rather, the presence of God, and I must add the presence of God's people as well.
It still hurts me severely to recall burying my oldest foster son. And even though she was old, giving up my beloved mother was very, very difficult.
Years ago when I first began my ministry and integrated an all-white congregation, how the storm of racism, hate, and disappointment raged around me. I prayed in those storms for rescue, but instead God gave the calm in my soul to survive and to sail on through those rough seas.
Three sons in Vietnam, one being wounded; struggles with other children; worry over finances; extremely frightening days in Liberia, West Africa, during a horrible, bloody tribal war; the discovery of cancer in my body and surgery for it -- we all can draw a list. Mine would not be nearly as long as many of yours. God doesn't remove the rough water, but God does place a hand on the helm to help steer us through to safe harbor.
We do have to ask here about the disciples' question to Jesus. In their panic and desperation, they said to the sleeping Christ: "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" (Mark 4:38b).
We are often tempted to ask it in a similar fashion. "Hey God, don't you see my struggle here? I'm about to go under -- are you asleep? Why don't you do something? How about a rescue?" Very much like the disciples, we cry out, "How about a little help here! Can't you see it's a bad storm?"
Sometimes we forget we may be the answer God provides in response to our own prayer. In an historical museum along the Mississippi River in Iowa, there is a sign at the helm of an old river boat which reads, "In a storm, pray toward heaven but row toward shore." There are times to pray and times to act on the prayer and actually become the way God answers it.1
Often we just don't recognize the help as it comes -- perhaps a peace or calm which gets us through. Perhaps other of God's people steady us. Maybe at worship the calming assurance that we are loved unconditionally by God and by God's people gets us through a lot and motivates us to invite and welcome others into our boat, the Church of Jesus Christ.
It can be like the David and Goliath story related to us in 1 Samuel 17. The Philistine Goliath from Gath looked so big and strong, no Israelite soldier had the courage to fight there in the valley of Elah against him. David, however, saw him so big he just couldn't miss with his trusty slingshot.
The ship has always been a very ancient symbol for the Christian church. We even have Latin names for parts of our building which are parts of a ship, like nave and chancel. Both sides of this miracle tell me that in the church is the best place to be when life's storms come. It's also a wonderful place to be during calm sailing. But, when storms rage, we can make it to the other side or ride out the squall best in the church -- where we have each other and the Christ is in our boat.
And let's be reminded that, like the traumatic evening on Lake Gennesaret when Jesus fell asleep and disciples panicked, the church can weather the meanest of storms. It may seem like it will swamp; it may seem like it will never get to the other shore. But with the Christ resting in the stern and disciples faithfully hard at work at the helm and working the sails, that old boat which has already survived so much and provided safe passage so well will do so again and again.
Divisions, quarrels, pastors disappointing us, conflicts over social positions, sinful greed, hurt egos, debates over insignificant issues, hurt feelings, financial crises, and hot tempers may all threaten to swamp the ship. But no matter how seasick we sailors become, we can sail on.
With God's word as our marker buoys to port and starboard, the ship and its passengers, no matter how rough the seas, will come through.
When Peter preached, it was always from the other side of this Galilee storm. He assured us the church will survive; the best place to be in a storm is in the same boat with the Christ. While this storm may not go away, there can be calm in our hearts. Our God has not been caught napping, but is here with us yet.
And now, confidently calm and secure, let's go out into our rough seas in God's peace.
____________
1. Jerry L. Schmalenberger, These Will Preach (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., 1999), p. 94.
there is one who can speak the word of blessed calm,
to still the turmoils which often so threaten us.
Yet, best of all, guide us through while winds rage on.
There are times when our lives are so very difficult, so fast and busy, and we are so tired we just want to get away for a while. It had been such a time for Jesus.
There are days when all kinds of struggle, pain, and misfortune enter our lives that we question if God cares or is even awake and notices. That's the way it was one early evening on the Sea of Galilee.
So Jesus said to his disciples, let's take one of these fishing boats and get away from this crowd so we can have a little peace and quiet. He no more got into the stern of the boat before he was sound asleep, exhausted from all the healing and teaching and pressure of the crowds who were now pursuing him.
That lake called Gennesaret is 680 feet below sea level, surrounded by deep gorges down which a cold wind rushes out and upon the calm sea with suddenness. The calm of one moment may be the raging storm of the next.
I have crossed over that lake several times and have seen the red flags which the boats with one mast and one triangular sail hoist in the bow to warn of this always present danger of storm.
So suddenly, what Mark calls "a furious squall came up" (Mark 4:37a). The small whitecaps became enormous waves which washed over the port and starboard gunnels. The boat was about to be swamped.
Those who heard Peter tell his eyewitness report of this frightening time wrote it down in their Gospel accounts for us to hear even today.
Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
-- Mark 4:38-39
For 2,000 years we preachers have told and retold this familiar story as a wonderful miracle of rescue. The storm was evidently more than even those experienced Galilean sailors could handle, so Jesus, proving to them his power even over nature, told the wind and the water to be quiet. As frequently happens over a longer time period, it was calm.
There are wonderful things to learn from this frightening experience of the disciples.
Some would say the disciples told the story as proof that Jesus was really the powerful Messiah who the Old Testament had promised would come. The one about whom the psalmists wrote: "You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them" (Psalm 89:9).
Storms do come into all our lives no matter how strong our faith or how good our discipleship. And they can rage furiously, yet come unexpectedly and blow on and on and on.
In times like these we have a rescuer, one with great power to calm the furious water and wind.
Who here hasn't known the troubled water of deep sorrow, doubt, pain, anxiety, passion, temptation, and my big one -- worry?
The plea of an old time gospel writer, Fanny Crosby, is often ours also: "Rescue the perishing, Care for the dying; Jesus is merciful, Jesus will save." A more contemporary song writer called our need "the bridge over troubled waters."
So the traditional, more conservative approach to this miracle of subduing wild storms into calm seas and wind is to draw the conclusion that to be in the same boat with Jesus is to have the seas calmed. It announces that whenever Jesus comes into life, its storms become quiet.
One writer said that this is a case of faith being tested and revealed like ours in all its frailty. Others offer words of profound comfort in saying that to be with Jesus means our storms will cease.
I'm just not sure this is the case. I think we have to question from our own experience whether Jesus calms our stormy situations of life. For instance, I wonder if the other boats along with Jesus' boat also experienced a calming of the sea that evening.
So here is the flip side of this miracle of Jesus: Perhaps Jesus' calming was not so much the waves and the wind on Galilee that day, but rather the fear and panic in the hearts of those sailor-disciples.
I've often wondered at the Transfiguration of our Lord upon the mountain -- who really changed, the physical appearance of Jesus, or the disciples seeing him for the first time in a new light. So too here, I wonder if the storm didn't so much change as did the disciples' courage to get through it.
We all face the reality that no matter how religious we are, no matter how hard and often we ask God to take away our storms in life, they still rage on. What helps us weather the storm, no matter how frightening, fierce, and painful it may be, is God's presence and God's people with us.
Our rescue is not so much the absence of trouble, but rather, the presence of God, and I must add the presence of God's people as well.
It still hurts me severely to recall burying my oldest foster son. And even though she was old, giving up my beloved mother was very, very difficult.
Years ago when I first began my ministry and integrated an all-white congregation, how the storm of racism, hate, and disappointment raged around me. I prayed in those storms for rescue, but instead God gave the calm in my soul to survive and to sail on through those rough seas.
Three sons in Vietnam, one being wounded; struggles with other children; worry over finances; extremely frightening days in Liberia, West Africa, during a horrible, bloody tribal war; the discovery of cancer in my body and surgery for it -- we all can draw a list. Mine would not be nearly as long as many of yours. God doesn't remove the rough water, but God does place a hand on the helm to help steer us through to safe harbor.
We do have to ask here about the disciples' question to Jesus. In their panic and desperation, they said to the sleeping Christ: "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" (Mark 4:38b).
We are often tempted to ask it in a similar fashion. "Hey God, don't you see my struggle here? I'm about to go under -- are you asleep? Why don't you do something? How about a rescue?" Very much like the disciples, we cry out, "How about a little help here! Can't you see it's a bad storm?"
Sometimes we forget we may be the answer God provides in response to our own prayer. In an historical museum along the Mississippi River in Iowa, there is a sign at the helm of an old river boat which reads, "In a storm, pray toward heaven but row toward shore." There are times to pray and times to act on the prayer and actually become the way God answers it.1
Often we just don't recognize the help as it comes -- perhaps a peace or calm which gets us through. Perhaps other of God's people steady us. Maybe at worship the calming assurance that we are loved unconditionally by God and by God's people gets us through a lot and motivates us to invite and welcome others into our boat, the Church of Jesus Christ.
It can be like the David and Goliath story related to us in 1 Samuel 17. The Philistine Goliath from Gath looked so big and strong, no Israelite soldier had the courage to fight there in the valley of Elah against him. David, however, saw him so big he just couldn't miss with his trusty slingshot.
The ship has always been a very ancient symbol for the Christian church. We even have Latin names for parts of our building which are parts of a ship, like nave and chancel. Both sides of this miracle tell me that in the church is the best place to be when life's storms come. It's also a wonderful place to be during calm sailing. But, when storms rage, we can make it to the other side or ride out the squall best in the church -- where we have each other and the Christ is in our boat.
And let's be reminded that, like the traumatic evening on Lake Gennesaret when Jesus fell asleep and disciples panicked, the church can weather the meanest of storms. It may seem like it will swamp; it may seem like it will never get to the other shore. But with the Christ resting in the stern and disciples faithfully hard at work at the helm and working the sails, that old boat which has already survived so much and provided safe passage so well will do so again and again.
Divisions, quarrels, pastors disappointing us, conflicts over social positions, sinful greed, hurt egos, debates over insignificant issues, hurt feelings, financial crises, and hot tempers may all threaten to swamp the ship. But no matter how seasick we sailors become, we can sail on.
With God's word as our marker buoys to port and starboard, the ship and its passengers, no matter how rough the seas, will come through.
When Peter preached, it was always from the other side of this Galilee storm. He assured us the church will survive; the best place to be in a storm is in the same boat with the Christ. While this storm may not go away, there can be calm in our hearts. Our God has not been caught napping, but is here with us yet.
And now, confidently calm and secure, let's go out into our rough seas in God's peace.
____________
1. Jerry L. Schmalenberger, These Will Preach (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., 1999), p. 94.
