It was early in my time at Manchester College – long years ago. I don’t remember the specifics of the worry – money, classes, loneliness. Only that I had come to the end of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I do remember that evening standing in my 2nd floor Garver dorm room right after 6:00. Because the chime was playing. And into the worry and anxiety of that day came a simple melody from the bells: David plays Finlandia melody
I don’t know what the student up in the bell tower of the Ad Building intended but I heard the words of the hymn 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.
I didn’t even know I knew those words. Not exactly the soundtrack of the early 1970’s. Except that I was a child of the church. And that evening I needed to hear, the waves and winds still know his voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.
Nothing seemingly changed as the sound of the bells drifted away. And yet everything changed in the reassurance of the voice saying, “Peace. Be still.” And so I claim the story of Jesus calming the storm as my “favorite.”
It’s an odd story for a land-locked Hoosier. More familiar with cornfields than large lakes. Which just goes to show how universal the stories of Jesus are.
When our boys were living at home they watched the show Deadliest Catch on cable tv. (It’s still running.) It’s about fishing for crabs off the coast of Alaska. It’s a hard, dangerous life and you hear a lot of language bleeped out. The other day I thought, “You know, I’ll bet Peter and Andrew, James and John would feel right at home on these crab boats. A little colder in Alaska, but I’ll be they’d fit right in. (When our image of the Bible gets too spiritual, just think of the disciples as the hard-living, hard-working hard-talking fishermen on reality tv.) We know that two of them were called “Sons of Thunder.” I wonder why? And our own sons have taught us about doing dangerous jobs. So, maybe I do “get” this story.
In chapter 4 Mark tells us that Jesus’ day started at the lakeshore. That’s when so many people came to hear him that he had to get into one of the fishing boats and push out into the water. So, Jesus talked to the people on the beach about the kingdom of God. He gave them all he had to give, all day long. As the sun began to set, Jesus had had enough. He told his disciples, “Let’s go across to the other side, guys.” It’s the only way he could get any rest.
Verse 36 says, “And leaving the crowds behind [the disciples] took him with them in the boat just as he was.” I wonder what that means. Was he so tired that he couldn’t utter another word or heal another disease? All we know is that the disciples were in charge. They are the ones taking care of their teacher now. The next thing we read about Jesus is that he’s fast asleep in the back of the boat, curled up on a cushion. He doesn’t hear a thing until he’s shaken awake, and someone’s yelling, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re about to drown?” It had been a long day for Jesus. It was a long day for the disciples, too.
These experienced fishermen were caught in the worst storm of their lives in the middle of the night in the middle of the lake. They had done all they could. And they knew they were going down. Fear had them by the throats. Adrenaline was pumping. These big brave men were afraid for their lives. If the wind and the waves had their way, this little boat and the 13 men in it would soon be on the bottom of the Sea of Galilee.
The disciples cried out to their teacher. They just didn’t know that they were crying out to the one who had helped create the wind and the waves in the first place. Mark says Jesus woke up and said two words, “Be quiet. Be still.” Two words of command. And instead of deadly waves there was a dead calm.
This is not a big deal for Jesus. He was there in Genesis 1 when the whole earth was formless and void, a watery chaos. He helped put the waves and the wind in their places so that dry land could appear and there would be a safe home for humanity. This was just a little mopping up job, putting the raging waters back in their place. No big deal. Peace. Be still.
What was a big deal to Jesus was his disciples. He turned to them, while they were still green and queasy and said, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” He wanted so much for them to trust him. And over the disciples’ heads he says to us as well, “Why are you afraid? Can you not yet trust the God you see in me?”
And so many times our answer is, “No, Lord, I guess not.” “But, Lord, the storms are so scarey.” “My boat is so tiny and the sea is so big.”
And Jesus says, “Yep, I know. I called you onto this boat in the first place.”
Look back at Mark 4. It’s Jesus’ idea to get into the boat. This whole journey of faith is Jesus’ idea. Why do we let ourselves think that with Jesus there will be no storm, no waves, no fear? On almost every page of Mark’s gospel Jesus is the center of a storm of some kind. Some of our greatest adventures with Jesus will be in storms, in the dead of night, when it is dark and we are afraid.
I learned about bringing peace from another angle as the mother of those guys who liked to watch Deadliest Catch.
When they were in elementary school we took them camping in Yosemite National Park. Our first afternoon we went on a hike labelled “moderate.” To me it seemed more like mountain climbing than hiking. We huffed and puffed to the top of a formation called Lembert Dome – an exposed granite face above Tuolumne Meadow. The view was astonishing – out over the ridges of the Sierra Nevada. Until we heard rumbles of thunder. The hairs on our arms stood straight up. And we saw that we were the highest objects for lightning to strike. We called the boys and scurried down below the tree line. And went back to our campsite where, if I remember right, we had to scare bear cubs away that night.
A year or so later in a game where you had to tell things about yourself, I overheard one of our boys talk about that experience. He said, “The lightning started coming close and I ran to Mom and she took away the scared.”
“She took away the scared.” All that time I had remembered only the fear. But the young boy remembered something else. He remembered what it was like to feel afraid and then safe in the midst of danger. That’s what every loving adult wants for the children in our care. We want to be able to “take away the scared.”
And somehow, when I heard those words I realized that if I as a human mother could offer that to a child, how much more could the loving presence of God in Christ Jesus take away my scared?
That’s what Jesus gave his disciples in the boat. And what he offers us today. At the table of the Last Supper he would say, “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)
So, now I find myself back home again in Indiana. On Oak Drive at Timbercrest, just a mile from Garver Hall. If the wind is coming from the south sometimes we can hear the refurbished bells being rung at 6:00 in the evening.
And, you know, I can still come up with a list of worries. I can still feel the waves under the boat heaving and the wind howling. This week I made a list of worries, ways the wind and waves are battering my boat. I started out wondering about doing a funeral meal with Jan in Arizona and no working refrigerator in the kitchen. (That worry got taken care of by the village that is Manchester CoB, led by Amy Shively.) Other than that, I imagine our lists would be pretty basic and similar – concern for loved ones – now and for the future, the toll of disease, finances, death, the state of the world around us.
And I wondered, what would it be like to hand this list over to Jesus. I imagined him sort of frowning at it – as if thinking, “But I’ve already taken care of all of these. Maybe checking them off. What’s she doing being afraid of death when I’ve already opened the door to eternal life? What’s she doing being afraid for loved ones when I already love them more than she does? What’s she doing being afraid for the future when I’ve already promised to take care of her along with the lilies of the field and the birds of the air?
I can imagine Jesus wondering, “Why is she still hanging on to worry and fear? When is she going to let me take away the scared?
Jesus, who can sleep through any storm, cannot sleep through the cries of those he loves. Jesus not only cares. He acts. He saves. The story doesn’t explain how. It doesn’t promise that he will always do what we think best. The Bible simply says when the clouds turn dark and the wind howls, when all seems lost, there comes Christ’s clear, strong voice. Peace. Be still. Amen.