Jesus brings peace and calm
Sermon for the 3rd Sunday after Pentecost, year B
Bible reading: Mark 4:41
‘Who is Jesus?’
I suppose that if an agnostic or Muslim or Buddhist friend asked you this question, you’d need some time to prepare an answer that was adequate but not too long-winded. How would you answer? How would you answer this question even to yourself if it arose to confront you in a quiet moment of meditation?
Throughout his brief but pithy, punchy and perturbing gospel, Mark asks the same question, sometimes overtly, and at other times in more hidden ways.
From the small Galilean fishing boat, now peacefully making its way to the safety of the shore, Jesus’ closest disciples ask the same question. Not as speculating philosophers, but as frightened full-grown men who have just witnessed the extraordinary. Yes, still frightened we hear. As if the storm wasn’t bad enough, they now try to come to terms with the immediate calm that followed Jesus’ command to the chaotic elements: Peace! Be still.
They ask the question, and it’s a question that, given its context, answers itself. For who else but the Son of God the Creator could shut down a wild storm with a spoken command?
Twice they were afraid. The first time was for their lives as wind and waves threatened. The second time was in awe of God’s power in Jesus. The first fear was the fear of unfaith and unbelief. The second fear was a different fear – the godly fear that true faith brings about in a person.
Jesus calls for faith. He calls all people to trust in him. He calls for a faith that will not shrink or freak out when the storm hits. Not just wind and wave, but any storm that life throws at you.
And let’s face it, the disciples hadn’t really been tested until now. They’d listened to Jesus teach in the synagogues. They’d even witnessed his power to heal the sick.
But back then they had been mere spectators. Now it was their turn to trust. Now it was their turn to face trouble and trust that Jesus would act for their benefit. These tough, weathered fishermen were about to be tested, right in their own familiar environment, by the landlubber from Nazareth whose nostrils were more at home with the scent of wood shavings and tilled soil than with tangy sea breezes and the smell of fragments of fish floating in pools of bilge water.
As it turned out, the unruly tempestuous sea was no match for this enigmatic man Jesus. The waves skulked away at the sound of his voice. Who is Jesus? He is the same Word that gave birth to all creation, of course. Amazingly now in human flesh he is catching up on some much needed sleep. Asleep or not, those who travelled with him really had nothing to fear.
Sure enough, our Lord sometimes seems asleep, unaware or unconcerned about our frequent troubles. He seems slow to act. When trouble strikes like a storm, we react like the disciples. We pray ‘Don’t you care, Jesus, what is going on here? Can you see that my life and wellbeing are under great threat?’
And what are the things that terrify us? They are numerous. But most of them can be gathered under one broad category – our fear of change – change from fine to foul weather, so to speak, when the security of our lives is threatened by deteriorative change.
- An alarming ghostly shadow on a mammogram
- The concerned expression on a surgeon’s face after conducting a colonoscopy
- The departure of loved ones, either to another country or to the grave
- The loss of job, love, life or limb.
These things hit us like a storm, and we reluctantly realise that we have very limited control over our lives. That’s not an easy thing to come to terms with.
And most of the time we don’t have to face up to it. When things are cruising along fine, we feel on top of the world. We feel like singing in praise of our bold conquests instead of songs in praise of God. We see no need for church or worship or prayer because we like the taste of being captain.
We can’t skirt around the storm forever. When it hits we need to know the God who is our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast and our eternal home. And this God is not some nebulous being of our own making. He has revealed himself in Jesus.
At times this Jesus does seem asleep. He seems indifferent to our many and various fears. The truth is, however, that he has shared our predicament, has come to save us from it, and is with us to bless and to turn to our good even our deepest distress.
Through all the changing scenes of life he is with his church to protect, bless, guard, defend, to still the storms that raise doubts and fears in our hearts, and to put our souls at rest. Though he doesn’t remove us from the lake, he placates its fury and secures our destination. Why are you afraid? With Jesus in the boat, all shall be well, and we have nothing to fear.
- Nothing from the physical realm can really harm us, for the wind and waves obey him
- Nothing from the spiritual realm can really harm us, for he went on to becalm a poor man who was completely enslaved to a wild, unclean spirit
- Nothing that brings guilt and shame on us is beyond him, for he came to forgive sins, and who can forgive sins but God alone?
- And in case we have already forgotten, Jesus later would step into the eye of that great storm that took his life on a Friday when the sky turned to thick darkness. And yet he would rise to life again, leaving the disciples yet even more afraid, because he showed that not even death could gain the upper hand.
In fact it is especially in stormy moments that we come to a better appreciation of our Lord’s saving and comforting presence. In fine weather we forget that he’s there. Only through the storm do the disciples come face to face with the all important question, ‘Who is Jesus?’
And it’s only by witnessing his power and authority that their question gives way to faith, and knowledge of his power to save. In due course, this faith would break into lives of thanksgiving.
Psalm 107, the psalm that bests suits today’s gospel reading, repeats the refrain O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever!
It is the song of thanks that flows from the lips of those who have known God’s saving presence in various trials; those who have wandered thirsty through desert plains; those who have been afflicted by gloom, depression, hard labour, imprisonment; those who have suffered sickness; those whose guilt has laid them low; those who go down to the sea in ships and face the terrifying power of the elements. To those who cry to the Lord for help in every trouble, he raises up the needy out of affliction
, and brings to mind his steadfast love. How much more can we give thanks to the Lord in every situation, given that Jesus has come right into our lives?
So when the world around you is suddenly thrown into turmoil, when you are fearful of change and an uncertain future, remember the storm on Galilee. Here is a crisis out of which saving faith was born. Not the vague faith that imagines it has power of itself, as popular spirituality promotes, but faith in the faithful One, the victorious Son of God.
From the waters of baptism the Holy Spirit directs you to Jesus, not as a passive spectator, but as one in the thick of foul weather! You call out in faith to the one who alone secures and calms the wave-tossed soul, who is present in his church by his all-powerful Word and Spirit, and in the wine and bread, and who will bring you through all of life’s storms to the safe haven of your eternal home.
How can I be sure that this church with its motley crew won’t leave me spiritually shipwrecked? Because Christ is in it! And though the waves of the world rage horribly around it, they can never prevail to overwhelm it. Yes, Christ is right here. Roused by the cry of his people, he rebukes these winds and these waters, and delivers his own from their distress. Amen.