St. Mark 4:35-41
June 24, 2018
Proper 7B
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
The miracles of Jesus come in all shapes and sizes. Some are private and intimate, like when Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law of a fever. Other miracles are just plain fun, like when Jesus miraculously manufactured 180 gallons of fine wine at a wedding run dry. But the miracle under consideration today is a big one, loaded with meaning and with spectacular special effects. Jesus calms a storm on the Sea of Galilee with just two little words. Even the wind and the waves obey Him.
It had been a long day of teaching for Jesus. But as the day’s final order of business, Jesus told the disciples, “Let’s go across to the other side [of the lake].” That little detail is important. Jesus, who you might say is the chief meteorologist for the world’s weather, who knows precisely when and where storms will arise, He gave the order to set sail straight into the gathering darkness in which a storm was brewing. St. Mark writes that they took Jesus along “just as he was,” which is perhaps a way of saying that He was exhausted—worn out. This would explain why Jesus fell asleep so easily on the trip. And let’s not forget that “other boats” were also along for the trip, providing plenty of eye-witnesses who could later corroborate this miracle saying, “Yeah, I was there. It really happened.”
What happened? Well, a great storm arose. The Sea of Galilee is surrounded by mountains which make the atmospheric conditions considerably more volatile than we’re accustomed to with the predictable waters of Lake Michigan. The boat was small and full of people. The wind was howling. The waves were crashing, quickly filling the little boat with water. The deepening darkness and low visibility would have only added to the sense of panic and terror.
I suppose the phrase “All hands on deck!” originated in situations just like this. The efforts of everyone (“all hands”) would be required to stave off a watery death. Everyone is busy lowering the sails. Everyone is busy bailing. Everyone . . . except Jesus. And where’s Jesus in the midst of all this commotion? The Savior is snoozing in the back of the boat with His head propped up on a pillow. Just when Jesus is needed most, He seems to be totally disengaged, unaware, and unresponsive. The disciples must have been wondering why they had hitched their wagons to this star. A little later this morning we’ll sing, “Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me.” It’s a nice hymn, to be sure, but all I’m saying is, be careful what you pray for. Jesus just may not be the pilot you’re looking for.
Now, a lot of skeptics would like us to believe that this miracle is made-up—that some anonymous writer put this account together in hope of creating an impressive legend about an ordinary man named Jesus—that all of these details have been conjured up purely to pad Jesus’ resume and to deceive feeble-minded people for generations to come. But if that was the plan, I don’t think the writer did a very good job. If I were making this up, I wouldn’t include all the other boats and people who could verify or contradict this story. I would make the disciples to be a little more manly, more heroic, totally trusting that Jesus would save the day. What’s more, I’d have Jesus standing in the front of the boat, wide awake, calm, cool, and collected—you know, like Leonardo DeCaprio leaning over the bow of the Titanic, or a “Washington Crossing the Delaware” kind of scene. I would not have a bunch of cowardly, faithless disciples in a boat with a snoozing, comatose Christ.
But what the Holy Spirit inspired St. Mark to write down wasn’t crafted to make anyone look good or to pad anyone’s resume. This account was written down for your sake—so that you might have hope—so that you might be encouraged, even when you are feeling faithless and fearful. You can hear that faithlessness in the question the disciples posed to Jesus when they went to wake Him up: “Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?” That question is really not a prayer or a petition. In fact, it’s more of an accusation. It’s an indictment of the sleeping Son of Man.
Jesus, don’t you care? Perhaps that question has passed through your lips a time or two. It’s easy to trust Jesus when your life is smooth sailing. At other times you’ve probably pondered whether Jesus cares for you—when the weather starts getting rough and your tiny ship is tossed. Does He care for me? Who am I that He should come to my rescue? When I’m drowning in a sea of debt—when I’m swimming in a sea of panic because the doctor says that nothing can be done—when my marriage seems to be sinking in sea of acrimony and recrimination—when life is simply out of control and hope is all gone—even the faithful begin to wonder, “Jesus, don’t you care?” Do you trust this Jesus who sleeps through the storm—who seems a little too comfortable with chaos?
But it’s precisely in the chaos that Jesus teaches us who’s in control. It’s precisely when Jesus seems most distant that we discover Him to be right by our side. While we crave miracles and search for spectacular special effects, Jesus simply speaks. He speaks to us what He spoke that night on the boat: “Peace! Be still!” It’s only two words in the Greek. It was nothing more than what you or I might yell at a barking dog in the middle of the night. “Be still.” And as soon as those words left His lips, the wind ceased and there was a great calm. Within seconds, roaring, foamy waters became as smooth as glass.
And just at this point, as their jaws are hanging open in awe, Jesus turns to His disciples, looks them in the eye and asks, “What are you so afraid of? Don’t you trust me?” He’s asking you the very same thing this morning. Why are you so afraid? Why do you live each day in fear and anxiety? Why do you choose to face your fears as if your Savior was sleeping and distant? Why do you live as if a Jesus you can’t see is a Jesus who can’t help you? If Jesus single-handedly conquered sin and death and Satan by dying on the cross and rising again—if Jesus chose the whip and the thorns and the nails for you—if He was willing to suffer as your substitute under God’s wrath against sin—don’t you suppose that He has a plan and a purpose for your life—that He has the help you need?
It takes faith to believe that. And that’s why we’re here this morning—to hear the Words and eat the meal designed to strengthen our faith and to forgive our faithlessness. The same powerful Word that stills the storm is also the Word that forgives all your sins and declares you to be justified before God. In that Word is your safety—in life, and in death—when storms are raging, and when all is calm.
As that great calm settled over the waters, the disciples were no longer asking, “Teacher, don’t you care?” That question had now been replaced by a different question: “Who is this guy? Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey Him?” You know the answer. He is Jesus the Christ, true God begotten of the Father from eternity, and true man, born of the Virgin Mary—your Lord, our Savior. No one else can still the storm. No one else can order around the wind and the sea and have them obey. Jesus is one of a kind. Salvation is found exclusively through faith in Him.
This miracle, like all miracles, is the exception rather than the rule. There are plenty of ships that go down in the storm—some of them sitting at the bottom of Lake Michigan not too far east of here. Airplanes crash, even with plenty of Christians on board. Tornadoes typically don’t skip over churches as they do their destructive work. A tiny cell turns cancerous. So where is Jesus when all this happens? Is He asleep at the wheel? Does He care?
Beloved in the Lord, Jesus is right here in the middle of it all. He is God and we are not. But He is not just God; He is God With Us—Emmanuel. God with us in the preaching and proclamation of His promises. God with us in the bread that is His body and in the wine that is His blood. Jesus is an ever-present help in times of trouble.
The photograph on the front of today’s bulletin illustrates what I mean. If you’ve got a bulletin handy, pull it out and take a look at the sculpture which appears on the cover. This sculpture is fascinating for a couple of reasons. For starters, it captures that second in time right after Jesus has calmed the storm. “Peace. Be still,” has just passed through the Savior’s lips. Notice how
You can travel to view this sculpture for yourself. You’ll find it in Gainsville, Georgia, of all places. But you won’t find it in a city park, or downtown, or even next to a church. No, to find this sculpture you’ll have to go to Memorial Park Cemetery. A cemetery! It’s the perfect place. For how many people do you suppose travel into that cemetery with tears in their eyes, wondering, “Jesus, don’t you care?” How many people do you suppose travel into that cemetery with fearful hearts, battling a furious storm of grief and pain and sadness? You’ve been in that storm yourself. You know what it feels like. But at Memorial Park Cemetery in Gainsville, Georgia, they also see the Savior, right there with them, standing in the boat, above calm and placid waters. “Peace. Be still,” they hear Him say. Even the wind and the waves must follow the command of Jesus. And if that’s the case, well, then neither angels nor demons, then neither life nor death, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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