5^th Sunday after Pentecost at Epiphany on July 5, 2009

Mark 4:35 That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." ³⁶ Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. ³⁷ A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. ³⁸ 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?" ³⁹ He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. ⁴⁰ He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" ⁴¹ They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"

Wake up, Jesus, we’re drowning

It’s easy to trust Jesus when the water is calm, isn’t it? When all is right and well with your life. No winds, no waves, no water coming into your boat. Just a nice leisurely sail with Jesus. More of a cruise, actually. “Jesus, Savior pilot me,” means “Jesus, put wind in my sails so I can take in the scenery, do a little fishing. Jesus and me out on the water. What a great time that would be.”

And yet, Jesus often sails us into turbulent waters. We learn more from the struggling with the sails than seeing the scenery. We become stronger in our faith as we battle the elements of a sinful world than if we just coasted along through life. It was Jesus who put the disciples in a vulnerable position. It was His idea to go across the Sea of Galilee that evening. When He says, “Let’s go over to the other side,” He is putting His friends in a dangerous place where they would have to trust in Him. The disciples put Jesus in the back of the boat where He won’t get in the way of the serious fishermen. He’s a carpenter’s son. What does He know about sailing, anyway. A bunch of other boats followed, a rag-tag ragatta heading out on the waves as sun set and the sky turned crimson. And Jesus falls asleep on a cushion. 

The Sea of Galilee is tricky. Cool air from the Mediterranean whips through the mountains and mixes with the warm, humid air hanging over the lake. Storms can be sudden and swift. An evening squall breaks out. The little ship is rocking and rolling on the big sea. The experienced fishermen like Peter, Andrew, James and John are being tossed around. Someone like Matthew was more accustomed to the firm ground of a tax office under his feet, so he is probably turning a sickly grey-green color, leaning over the side. The wind whips and the waves break over the sides of the little boat which is taking on water faster than the S.S. Minnow. 

The men panic. “We’re gonna sink! All hands on deck! Start bailing! We’re taking in water! Whose idea was it to go sailing, anyway?!?” Their eyes turn to Jesus. There He is in the back of the boat, on the captain’s cushion, with His arm draped over the rudder, sound asleep. He couldn’t have been more at peace, or more in control.

“Wake up, Jesus, we’re drowning! How can you sleep at a time like this? We’re going down if you don’t do something! Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?! Wake up and grab a bucket before we go under.”

Don’t you care? Of course Jesus cares. He came to this earth because we are perishing in our sin, drowning in our death, with a heavy millstone of the Law tied around our necks, pulling us into the deep. He cared all the way to the cross, where He slept in death, bearing our sins. Make no mistake about it, Jesus cares. Compared to His caring on the cross, a little old sinking boat is nothing. Child’s play for the Lord of creation. He can stop the storm with a one-word rebuke from His mouth. He’s the Word through whom all things were made, and in whom everything in the universe holds together. He’s the Word who told the waters of creation, “This far you may go and no further,” who separated sea and dry land. This storm is no more threatening to Jesus than a Jacuzzi.

Don’t you care? It’s an indictment of motive. If Jesus cared, He’d do something. If Jesus cared He wouldn’t be asleep in a time of crisis. You’ve probably said or thought the same thing when life got a bit “overwhelming.” At least the disciples could see sleeping Jesus, and grab hold of Him to wake Him up. He isn’t quite so visible and shakable for us, is He?

We want Jesus to fix everything, to make the bad boogey men go away. Remember the boogey man when you were a kid? We adults still have them, we just don’t call them that. Cancer, heart disease, death, the grave. Oh, the boogey men are as real as those waves washing over the boat. When the doctor says, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do,” then we’d like to give Jesus a shake on His throne in heaven. Lord, don’t you care that we perish?

Jesus opens a sleepy eye and looks around at the wind, the waves, the water, the soggy, frightened disciples. And He says, “Shhhh. Be quiet,” the way you might speak to your barking dog. The wind and the waves know their Master and they are obedient. Jesus is the Word that called them into being. They must obey and they do. “Be quiet. Be still.” The same words He uses with the demons. “Be quiet. Be still.” That’s all it takes and the chaotic waters are quiet, the wind is still. Mark reports, “There was a great calm.” Peace. Silence.

That’s the power of Jesus’ Word. With a Word He heals, He casts out the demons, He calms the storm. It isn’t a big deal. He barely needs to be awake.

Jesus looks at His disciples – dripping wet, fearful, seasick, and paniced. “Why are you so afraid? Don’t you trust me? Do I have to keep proving myself to you guys?”

Jesus draws their fear to Himself. They once were afraid of the power of nature. Now their fear is directed toward Him. “They feared a great fear,” Mark says, “and asked each other, ‘Who is this? Who is this that even the wind and sea obey Him?”

You know the answer. He is the Lord, the eternal Son of God, the Christ, the Messiah of Israel, the creative Word, and the Savior of humanity. No one else can speak to wind and waves and have them obey. And He ought to be feared more than wind and waves and cancers and clogged arteries and terrorists and demons. There’s only One like this, and He happens to be the One in whom you are baptized, in whom you believe.

Jesus wants your fear. “We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things.” What causes your heart to race; what keeps you up at night. He wants that fear. Don’t fear the wind, the storm, the economy, the tumor, the bullet, the burst blood vessel, the grave. Don’t fear what can only destroy the body, but cannot harm the soul. Fear God. Fear the Son of God, for He will overpower your fear. Who is greater than the Lord?

“Why are you so afraid? Don’t you trust me?” He’s asking you the same thing of you. Why are you so afraid? Why do you live small and fearful lives? Why do you act as though a sleeping Jesus were a useless Jesus, or an invisible Jesus was an absent Jesus? If Jesus singlehandedly conquered sin, death, and the Law by dying on the cross, don’t you think He has everything else covered as well?

And yet we are afraid, aren’t we? When our boat is about to capsize. When the economic winds begin to howl, and creaks and groans from old bones and muscles are deafening, and all our safety and security goes overboard. We start to sound like the faithless disciples. I’m glad for these accounts, aren’t you? The disciples are usually men of “little faith.” It leaves a lot of room of us “little faith ones.” We panic too, and want to wake Jesus up, forgetting that He neither slumbers nor sleeps.

Alice was well known in the community for her simple faith and great calm in the midst of many trials. Dorothy had never met Alice but had heard of her and came to visit one day. She thought to herself, “I must find out the secret of her calm, happy life.” When Dorothy met Alice, she said, “So you are the woman with the great faith that I’ve heard so much about.” Alice replied, “No. I’m not the woman with the great faith. I am the woman with the little faith in the great God.”

Place your little faith in your great God.

We forget that sleeping Jesus reconciled the whole world to God in the sleep of His death on a Friday afternoon. There’s the power of God to save. When Jesus appears most powerless, most out of it, most unable to do anything constructive. When He’s hanging dead and naked on a wooden cross and all the people are standing around mocking Him and spitting on Him and insulting Him, that’s when He is most powerful to save.

Jesus tested His frightened disciples and increased their faith. That’s why Jesus invites you to join Him in His boat, the Church. The place in the church where you are sitting, where the pews are, is called the nave, which is the Latin word for boat, from which we get our word navy. Here in the boat, Jesus is here with us. In Baptism, in His Word, in Absolution, in His Supper, giving faith and forgiveness; teaching us and revealing exactly who He is. He is patient with us and bears with us.

Ships sink into the deep. Airplanes fall from the sky. Tsunamis and hurricanes wipe out cities. Floods and earthquakes irrevocably change the landscape. Wildfires roar through canyon communities. Bombs explode in crowded places. A chromosome has a tiny, devastating nick in it. A cell turns into a cancerous monster. Where is Jesus when all this happens? Is He asleep at the wheel? Does He care?

Yes He cares. He’s right there in the middle of all of it. Reconciling all things. Making peace. Stilling the storm. Calming the chaos. Setting things in order. He reconciles wind and waves and water and boat and disciples and they are safe because they are with Jesus. The same Word that stills the storm is the Word that forgives your sin and justifies you before God, He heals your diseases and calms your fears. You are safe, dear baptized believer. Safer than you could ever imagine. Safe in life and in death, when the winds and waves die down and when they don’t.

Jesus does not promise to calm every storm in your life. Jesus does promise to calm you in every storm of life.

When the winds of trouble are howling, and the waves of temptation are crashing, and your life is being tossed about, you will be tempted to cry out, “Wake up, Jesus, I’m drowning! Don’t you care?” But instead of rebuking the wind and waves, Jesus simply wraps His crucified and risen arms around you and says, “Don’t be afraid. It is finished. You belong to Me. You’re safe. Just trust Me.”

That’s all you need to hear. Amen.