Quiet!  Be Still!

Rev. Richard A. Bolland

Mark 4:35-41
(July 13, 2003 Sermon Transcript)

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        What’s the worst storm you’ve ever been in? One that stands out in your memory beyond anything else? Was it that great four-foot dump of snow we had about six years ago? Not for me!

        I remember crossing the southern end of the Ivers Sea one night, in the HMS Masda. And even though it didn’t rain a drop, the wind rose and the waves rose with it. Fortunately, I’m not particularly subject to motion sickness, and I was able to experience it undistracted.

        And I remember, slowly, holding unto the ropes which the crew had put up across the corridors, making my way to the stern of the boat like some seventeen-year-old stupid kid that I was, and grabbing hold with all my might to the metal rail at the very end of the boat (sort of like the Titanic in reverse!) And I remember watching, and I remember looking down into a watery chasm that looked at least as deep as the boat was tall. And at the very next moment, being on top of what seemed like a mountain of waves, looking up, indeed, instead of down at the water, as though the water itself could swallow that ship completely. It will be a memory that will live with me for the rest of my life!

        In this particular text we have today, our gospel reading says that there were several men in several boats, but the focus is on one in particular. The scene is the Sea of Galilee, also known as the Sea of Tiberias. It’s a large body of water. (Kind of like Malack’s Lake in Minnesota, if you’re familiar with that) You can get out in the middle and you can’t even see the coast. And there are winds that tend to blow down from Mount Hermon in the north. And they do some with some frequency and quite a bit of ferocity.

        And then I want you to think about who it is who’s in the boat. First, the apostles. Mostly seasoned seamen. People accustomed to being in the boat on the Sea of Galilee, for that is where they earned their living. And I want you to remember that these people had skills, and they had experience being on that sea in the middle of storms before. So apparently there was something about this storm that was particularly remarkable.

        Indeed, as we read the Greek text here, the word that is used to describe the waves, is that they are seismic (literally the Greek word, seismoV (Matt. 8:24)) A seismograph, of course, measures the strength of earthquakes. This was an earthquake of a storm! And they were convinced they were going to die.

        And where do we find Jesus? Somehow, some way, He slept through it. He’s sitting in the back of the boat with His head on a pillow, sound asleep. And then comes the most audacious claim the disciples have ever made. "Don’t you care?" Don’t you care that we are perishing?

        When the storms of life come our way, sometimes we think that God doesn’t care, as well. When things get really rough in life, sometimes we think that God isn’t even in the neighborhood, let alone in our lives. And we think He’s abandoned us. As it is true for the disciples, so it is true for us. It isn’t so. But that doesn’t stop us from thinking it is.

        How very many many crises have I walked through with people in this congregation, and in others? When a child is declared to have Cerebral Palsy. When a child is said to be dead at birth. Or a small child is diseased and dies, and the parents are devastated. And they ask, "How could God let this happen?" Or perhaps, if a spouse or a loved one is declared to have terminal cancer. And we begin to have doubts about the goodness of God. Perhaps sometimes even His existence.

        For surely, if God is the God of love, we reason, God would be with us, and fix this. Or would have prevented it from happening in the first place.

        Or what about a man with a considerable fortunate, who becomes of the nuances and caprices of the market, loses everything he ever had? And he says, "How could this happen, and where is God?"

        Perhaps a Red Cross worker, who is working in the aftermath of a terrible hurricane, like Hurricane Mitch, maybe you remember that, with 11,000 dead. The heads are shaking, and they say, "Where was God? And how could He possibly let this come?"

        In essence, at times like that we stand before Jesus at the end of our life-boat, and we wag a finger at Him, and we say, "Don’t you care? Have you no concern? Don’t you understand? We’re perishing!"

        Most certainly the gospel that we read today finds desperate men who are astounded that Jesus slept through this! It was, after all, a violent storm. Mark says very clearly, the waves are literally crashing over the gunwales of the boat. The boat is filling up with water. And Jesus is asleep! They are amazed that He is asleep. And they are amazed that He doesn’t care that it appears they are going to die.

        When Jesus awakes, He asks them an interesting question. He asks them, "Do you still have so little faith?"

        What a strange thing to say! "Do you still have so little faith?" They were seasoned seamen, after all, weren’t they? Don’t you think that before they went to Jesus they tried everything they possibly could, as sailors experienced in storms, to control the boat in the midst of the tempest which swirled around them? You bet they did! They exhausted not only their skills, but their strength.

        And so they come running to Jesus now for help! Now, think about that for a minute. As far as we know, Jesus never piloted a boat. As far as we know, He was a carpenter’s son, completely unqualified to deal with storms and boats. So one must ask the question, "Why would the apostles come running to Him to save them from a situation which experienced seamen could not handle?" And the answer, I think, is clear enough. The answer is that they had seen Him. They had seen Him touch and heal. They had seen Him take five loaves and two fishes and feed the multitude. Twice. They had seen Him speak and the dead were raised. They expected divine intervention! For nothing else makes any sense at all!

        And so, they come to Him. And they, in essence, demonstrate their faith in that regard. For truly, there was not sense to have faith in a carpenter’s son who hadn’t piloted a boat to get them out of a storm in a lake. Unless, of course, they were convinced that He had power! And so, in essence, their faith is displayed, isn’t it? But then, so is their lack of faith.

        For He turns to them and He says, essentially, "I should have been able to expect more of you! Have you not been with me? Have I not told you why I am here? Did I not say to you that I must be crucified and then rise from the dead? Did you not listen?

        "Did you not listen?"

        How could Jesus sleep? I would suggest two possibilities, both of which are probably true. I think it is quite beyond our comprehension to understand the daily burden that Our Lord continued to bear every single day of His life. If you recall, when He is tempted in the wilderness, in one of the gospels it says very clearly that Satan finally left Him until a more opportune time. That little tag line on the end should tell us a lot. Because He wasn’t just tempted three times in the desert and that was it. But rather, day after day, after day, after day, after day for the rest of His life, Satan was constantly speaking through the voices of people who came to Him, oftentimes asking the same kinds of question. "Just do us a miracle, or show us a sign, and we’ll know that you are the Son of God! Just feed us, and we’ll be fine!"

        Well, what is it like to be the Son of God, God in human flesh? Every single day being exposed to the utter contempt and disrespect of His creatures! What is it like to be the Son of God, to come under such continual satanic attack every single day? What is it like, to touch and to heal, and to exude power to do that every single day?

        I think He was dead tired in His human flesh.

        But there’s more. How could He sleep? Because He was the Father’s Son. Because He had complete and utter faith and trust in the Father. He knew He was not going to perish in a sea storm! But He did know where He was going to perish, and that probably added to His weariness. For every single day of His life, there was before Him the agony, and the suffering of hell itself. The agony and the suffering of nails and a cross. The unbelievable concept that God could be laid in a tomb, and be dead.

        No wonder He slept! But He also trusted. He knew that if He could trust God for what was ahead of Him, He could certainly trust Him in a storm, in a boat, on a sea. And so He slept.

        Well, no doubt the words of the apostles hurt. "Don’t you care that we are perishing?" And so He says, "I could, and should, have expected more of you." What if they had perished? Could He not be trusted then? What if those men had all drowned? Is death beyond the control of our Lord Jesus Christ? I tell you, "No!", and He proves it with His own resurrection. Or He stands tall until the grave has done its work, and He rises to life.

        Ah, but you say, "They had an advantage over us in our storms! After all, Jesus was right there in the boat! They could just run over to Him and wake Him up!" OK. You mean if He had stayed on the shore on the other side of the lake they couldn’t have trusted Him? Do you think for a minute that His immediate physical proximity makes any difference whatsoever in whether or not God is trustworthy in our lives? Even in the midst of the worst of the storms that we shall face, and have faced?

        No, I tell you. He has promised that He will be with us to the very end of the age. And He has kept that promise, and is keeping it right now!

        He is with us. And whether He is physically present, either with us or with the disciples, is utterly superfluous.

        Well, Jesus stands. He raises an arm (we are told in the other gospels), and He looks at the waves and at the wind, and He says, "Quiet! Be still!" And immediately there was an absolute calm.

        The Greek is better here. He looks at the storm, He raises His hand, and He says, "Peace! Be at peace! Be muzzled, and keep on being muzzled!" In today’s parlance, we would say, "Muzzle it!"

        It’s almost as thought He realizes that this storm is nothing but a mere annoyance. And He looks at the storm and He says, "Shut it down!", and it is.

        Now, without a doubt, this was a major jaw-dropping moment for those in the boat. I’m absolutely certain that there was not a word spoken for a bit. That guys looked at each other, and looked at Jesus, and then somebody said, "What kind of man is this? Even the wind and the waves obey Him?" And the answer is, He’s more than a man! He is God in human flesh. He is the Creator! At at the very word of the Creator, creation comes into being. And at the very word of the Creator, creation cannot stand against the one who created it. So of course, the wind and waves had to be still.

        Faith trusts completely. Faith trusts beyond reason. And needs to! Faith is hope in things that are unseen. We have faith in things that are unseen in our own lives. For we do not know what tomorrow holds, or even this day, for that matter! And we do not know what a doctor will say, or what the finances will be, or what the family situation might be. But what we know is that Jesus is in our boat. And that Jesus is absolutely trustworthy. And whether we face disease or death or financial ruin or natural disaster, He’s there. And He’s in control. And even if we perish, He is the one who will make it right. And who will bless it.

        Faith embraces Christ in every single circumstance of life. Be it unbridled joy, or abject, abject suffering, He gives it all meaning, and His trust is absolutely well-placed.

        To all of us, let us listen to the words of our Lord. In whatever storm you now find yourself, or will find yourself, the only words we need hear from Him are, "Quiet. Be still." In Jesus’ name, Amen.