Mark 4:35-41
Please listen with me to St. Mark’s version of the story that we heard in today’s Gospel from St. Matthew, in St. Mark chapter 4, beginning at the 35th verse.
“On the same day, when evening had come, [Jesus] said to them, “Let us cross over to the other side.” Now when they had left the multitude, they took Him along in the boat as He was. And other little boats were also with Him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. But He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow. And they awoke Him and said to Him, ‘Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?’ Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still!’ And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. But He said to them, ‘Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?’ And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, ‘Who can this be, that even the wind and the sea obey Him!’”
So far our text.
This story – both in Matthew’s version and in Mark’s version – is very familiar to us. The New Testament accounts of the storm on the sea, and of Jesus’ calming of the storm, have always been taken as a metaphor of the way in which Jesus takes care of us and protects us through the many storms and trials that we face in this world.
The imagery of today’s text does indeed lend itself to such applications. But imbedded within Mark’s account are a couple details that may not often be noticed, and that can help us to be comforted and instructed by this text in even deeper ways.
The first thing to notice, is that the reason why the disciples set out to sail across the lake on that day, is because Jesus specifically directed them to do so:
“On the same day, when evening had come, [Jesus] said to them, ‘Let us cross over to the other side.’ Now when they had left the multitude, they took Him along in the boat as He was.”
So, the storms of life in which Jesus protects us are not just the storms that we happen to stumble across, or that come upon us by surprise. Often, the callings or vocations that we are given by Jesus deliberately lead us into such turbulence.
Sometimes we know that a storm is coming, when we step forward to fulfill the duties that Jesus has entrusted to us. But that doesn’t give us the right to run away from those duties.
If God has indeed commissioned us to perform a difficult task, in a difficult circumstance, then we are obligated to do so, regardless of the outward strain and stress that we may experience in the process.
Some close relatives of mine have been called by God to be the parents of a special-needs child. That’s the child God gave them, and that’s the child God wants them to raise with love and devotion.
The challenges are great. The time and effort that are needed, for the special care this special child requires, demand sacrifices on their part – sacrifices that are sometimes difficult to make.
But they cannot avoid this storm, because God called them to sail directly into it and through it.
Yet as God has indeed called them to embark on this journey of love, even so is God always with them on this journey. As they cross tumultuous seas, with frightening waves of temptation toward frustration and discouragement coming at them from all directions, and crashing down upon them, they know that Jesus is with them in the boat.
He himself is at peace in the midst of the storms, and he gives them peace – and joy and confidence – through his presence.
In your own life, and in the callings that God has placed upon you in your life, you may not be dealing with ongoing, enduring challenges that are exactly like this.
But the trials that you do face, as you seek with God’s help to fulfill the obligations that he has given you, are trials that will not swamp your boat, either. Because Jesus is also with you, in your boat.
Sometimes you might not think that you have enough faith to get through your times of testing. But Jesus being with you, and keeping you safe from spiritual harm, does not depend on your having a strong and robust faith.
The faith of the disciples in today’s text was very weak, and in that weakness of faith, they were scared. But Jesus was protecting them anyway and was with them anyway.
Whenever Jesus asks you to cross a stormy sea, he always always stays in the boat with you. He does not remain in safety while sending you forth into danger.
He faces every danger with you. He is your companion in all trials.
A vigorous faith in him is not a prerequisite to his willingness to be faithful toward you, within your vocation. But his faithfulness toward you does invigorate your faith in him.
Your faith does not earn his favor and grace. But his favor and grace do restore, refocus, and enliven your faith.
God never sends you to a place to which he is not willing to go, with you, every step of the way. Even if you do suffer as a result of following his will – emotionally, physically, financially – he keeps your soul safe, in every way that really matters.
Christ the Lord is the almighty Son of God, and your Savior from sin and death. What we read in the Epistle to the Hebrews therefore certainly refers to him, and to his faithfulness:
“He has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ So we can confidently say, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?’”
And in the book of Deuteronomy, we read:
“The beloved of the Lord dwells in safety. The High God surrounds him all day long, and dwells between his shoulders.”
In Christ, God surrounds you in all danger. In Christ, God dwells between your shoulders – that is, within your heart – and fills you with hope and faith.
And this brings us to another point in today’s text that we should make sure we don’t miss. We read that the disciples awoke Jesus – who had been sleeping peacefully in the midst of the crashing waves and howling wind. And they said to him,
“Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?”
Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. But He said to them, “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?”
Because Jesus was with them, they should have known that they would get to the shore, in spite of the waves and the wind. The word of Christ is to be believed. When he says, “Let us cross over to the other side,” we will get to the other side.
St. Paul, in his Second Epistle to the Corinthians, reminds us that, as Christians, “we walk by faith, not by sight.”
But as the disciples in today’s story were feeling the spray of the storm, and the violent rocking of the boat, their perception of what was going to happen was not governed by faith in the word of Christ. It was governed instead by what they were seeing.
They were not walking – or sailing – by faith. They were sailing – and it seemed, sinking – by sight.
I think it is fair to say that Jesus calmed the waves, and quieted the wind, because of the disciples’ weakness in faith, and not because they actually would have perished if he had not intervened in this way.
With Jesus in the boat, that would not have happened. Jesus was calmly sleeping, and was not worried, because he knew that they were indeed going to reach the other side of the lake.
The disciples should have known this, too. But they didn’t.
The Epistle to the Hebrews instructs us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
In the midst of the storms of life that you very vividly see and feel – as you, with God’s help, pursue your calling under Christ – the gospel of Christ, in Word and Sacrament, assures you that “for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” – as St. Paul writes to the Romans.
You believe this promise, not because you can see a lot of outward evidence that it is so, but because God’s Word tells you that it is so. And in the Epistle to the Romans, we are also told that “faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.”
Christ is your companion in the storm – your vocal companion – by means of his Word.
In the boat in today’s story, the divine master of all wind and waves was hidden beneath the humble human form of the carpenter and rabbi from Nazareth, sleeping soundly in the stern. But even from that hiddenness, he still spoke with divine power.
In the story of your personal storms – whatever they may be – the eternal truth and power of God is hidden beneath the humble forms of the pen and paper of Holy Scripture; and of water, bread, and wine. Though hidden in these ways now, he still speaks into your storms – with divine power – now.
In one sense the Lord’s house, where we partake of the means of grace, is like a harbor from the storm. But in another sense, it is the place where you are renewed and strengthened while still in the midst of the storm.
You don’t come here to escape from your calling in Christ – even temporarily. You come here while still in the midst of that calling, and while still in the midst of the emotional, physical, and financial turmoil that may be upon you because of that calling.
In the absolution of Christ, and in the sacrament of the Lord’s body and blood, you do not receive peace as a replacement for the storm that swirls around you. You receive peace – true, inner peace – in the midst of that storm.
You receive the assurance that all sins of the past – all your previous hesitancy to fulfill the callings of Christ in your life, and all your previous failures to trust in the Word and faithfulness of Christ – are forgiven by the blood of Christ. And you receive the assurance that the living Christ is with you now, in the callings that are upon your life now.
Perhaps Christ is, in a sense, “sleeping” – as a sign of the calmness and rest that his Word also brings to your heart. But he is with you nonetheless, never abandoning you or forsaking you.
And just as with the disciples in the boat, so too with you: even when he is or seems to be, sleeping, he is still in charge of everything and is still controlling everything.
Therefore, by his grace, you will get to the shore. In Christ, you will live, and not die. For whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.
Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious, shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice, who ruled them while He dwelt below. Amen.