37 A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39 He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41 And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4)
It started small and grew progressively. At first it was simply something in the air, but out of nowhere it started to spread: A storm was raging and those in the boat had no time to respond—just to react.
Do you know the feeling?
They couldn’t have anticipated it. Nobody wanted it to come and there was nothing they could do within their own capacities to control it. What’s worse is that they were confined to a small space with nowhere to go and their very survival was at risk.
Do you know the feeling? You’re likely nodding your head.
The disciples feared that the elements outside would find their way inside, that the effects of the environment would soon affect them, and so they went from paddling to panicking. You can hear it in their voices and you can see it in their feverish attempt to latch onto the Lord for answers:
“Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?”
Have you pondered such questions? Perhaps you’ve silently screamed them. If you have, consider this picture: While it storms, Jesus sleeps. His followers are up in arms and he’s out cold. How callous and uncaring! One would anticipate that the Teacher would be in a tizzy alongside them…but is that what they or we really want? A Lord who waffles with every wave or who panics at every puff of air? Instead, what we behold in the boat is a Jesus who exudes the greatest comfort in our greatest crisis. How can both coexist? We can only assume that presence of one means the absence of the other. But see for yourself: The one in the stern is with the ones in the storm…and the things that rattle them don’t rattle him. It’s simultaneously maddening and mystifying.
But, alas, they shake Jesus out of his slumber after which he quickly rebukes the wind and the waves, silences the storm and leaves his followers befuddled: “Who is this that even the wind and the seas obey him?” The last recollection of someone speaking and nature yielding is in Genesis when…God…spoke…If that was then, who is this? For a time we called him teacher, but it seems the Teacher used the storm to teach us that he’s more than a teacher—He’s Savior…and He’s sovereign.
Friends, we’re enduring similar weather, but the size of our burden isn’t bigger than the One in our boat. The very Christ who commandeers the wind and the waves is the same Jesus who can quell the quaking within your rattled heart if you’ll let him. In your weariness, rest to know that He’s working out what you’re worrying about. Meditate on his words: “Peace! Be still!” Play it on repeat. In time, don’t be surprised to find that you too can still sleep while it’s still storming.