Bible Text:

“A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 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?’ 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.”                                   (Mark 4:37-39)                    

You don’t have to live too many years to realize that life has its storms. Most adults know that; many teenagers know something about the storms of life; even quite a few children. You are sailing along in relative comfort and security. Suddenly a storm hits. You can’t predict the storm’s coming. You don’t know how severe it will be. You only know it is a storm.

Some storms are fairly small. They blow over in a hurry. It could be a monthly shortfall in financial resources. The bills were higher than expected. Too much month at the end of your money. A small storm could also be a school progress notice that falls below expectations. A certain kind of storm ensues. But these storms can blow over in a matter of days, or maybe even a few weeks.

Some storms are medium grade. You have to make an unexpected move to another part of the country. There is tremendous upheaval and loss of a circle of friends. United Methodist clergy know this storm fairly well. We receive appointments to a whole different kind of church. I came from a 650 or 700 member church to one almost four times that size. There is always a sense of disconnectedness, and living in a strange land. It’s a medium grade storm.

Some storms, however, are major. They may even be life threatening. Your very survival is in question. Elaine and I went through one of those storms about 8-1/2 years ago. A drunken driver, on a very frigid January night, tried to make a U-turn in the middle of Route 19. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or consider the storm that at least 9 families are going through in the Washington, DC area—their lives permanently disrupted by a sniper bullet.

Sometimes, in these kinds of storms, old sermon files are obsolete. Storms do that. Old sermons and old cliches simply won’t work.

Ten years ago a horrific hurricane struck the southeastern United States. You may recall hurricane Andrew. That hurricane radically reoriented thousands of lives. Life was not quickly restored. In an article written more than a year after the storm, someone said:

Surviving the storm was easy compared with survival afterward. Like the debris in our community, some people simply cannot get their lives together in this constant uncertainty. The spiritual impact of losing control still extracts life and energy from those who survived.[i]

Storms happen. They happen suddenly and without warning. They cut across life unexpectedly. We don’t know where they come from. Some people try to blame God. We don’t know how long they will last. We do not know the degree of damage they will cause. 

Jesus and his disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee. A storm arises. Many years ago I learned about such storms on that particular body of water. Wind gusts sweep down from the cliffs on one side of the lake and race across the water. There is virtually no warning, and there’s not much you can do if you get caught in one. 

Waves appear—big waves! The boat begins to take on water. One disciple asks, “Where is Jesus?” The answer comes, “He’s sleeping over there on the other part of the boat.”

 “He’s asleep? Wake him up! We’re dying here.” 

They shake Jesus awake. “Jesus, don’t you care that we are dying?”

Jesus stands and looks around. He says to his disciples, “Where is your faith?” Then he calls out, “Peace! Be still.” And all is quiet. Everything stops.

The gospel writers are preachers. This story is about more than a miracle—as powerful as that miracle may be. There is a message here. What is the message?

WE DON’T MUCH LIKE STORMS 

First, there is the honest message: we don’t much like storms. Nobody enjoys the storms of life. Yes, we can learn from stormy times. Yes, some stressful periods can be productive and even transforming. But storms are mostly frightening, lonely experiences. 

A mother was tucking her 8-year-old into bed at night. A thunderstorm was raging outside. The child said to his mommy, “I’m scared. Can you stay here with me tonight?” 

Tucking him into his bed and kissing him gently she said, “No, son, I have to stay downstairs with Daddy.”

With a tenacity that only a child can know, the boy responded, “The big sissy!”

We don’t like unexpected, life altering storms. Not long ago I was meeting with a couple in my office, planning their wedding. We were in the midst of our counseling session. There was a heavy rain outside. Suddenly a huge bolt of lightning seemed to flash right in the midst of our garden, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. Instantly the lights and the phones went out. I lost forever the profound thought I was sharing with the couple—right in mid-sentence. 

We don’t like storms that disrupt life, that leave wreckage and that deposit a certain level of chaos.

A few months ago a woman was being interviewed on a television news show. She had been a long and loyal employee of the Enron Company. She had planned to retire at the end of this past summer. She was single—never married. She had been a careful steward of all her resources and very carefully managed her pension account. Now she had nothing—absolutely nothing. She said to the reporter, “What am I going to do? I’m tired. I’m worn out. I have no one else upon whom to depend.”

Some storms disrupt life, leaving wreckage, depositing chaos. We don’t much like those storms. 

JESUS HAS POWER OVER THE STORMS

But our story tells us something very important. It says that Jesus has power over the storms. Jesus rebuked the wind. He said, “Be gone.” And the amazing thing is that it happened. The disciples raised a question. “Who is this? How could he have done that?” They are still timid and maturing in their faith.

Sometimes we are counseled to manage the storms of life. “Get hold of yourself. Take charge. Pick yourself up.”

Scott Peck counsels this way in one of his books. He says when a storm comes, take charge. Delay some gratification. Accept responsibility. Dedicate yourself to the truth. Balance your life. Scott considers these tools for spiritual growth through storms.[ii] I’m not convinced. I’m not sure that you and I can simply “manage” the storms.

Sometimes we are invited to rise above the storms—to have a kind of out-of-body experience—to transcend the problem. Again, I am not convinced. 

There is only one sure response: to know the One who has final authority over the storms. We cannot simply manage the storms. We must take a faith posture. Jesus is greater than any storm life can dish out. Jesus has authority over all storms.

Paul knew this. Paul writes in one of our favorite chapters in his letters—the 8^th chapter of Romans. He says, “Nothing in all creation can ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” He brings an imposing list of those things which cannot violate us: death, life, past, present, future, height, depth, principalities, rulers, powers. Paul knew that Jesus had authority over the storms of life.

I sat with a group of clergy colleagues and friends this past week. There were 20 of us present. Three of them had undergone a terrible storm in the past year. Two of them were still in the midst of that storm. It was a storm not of their own making. All I know how to say in a situation like that is that Jesus is the calm in the storm.

People often ask me, “Why do you remain positive about the church? In particular, why do you remain positive about the United Methodist Church? There is so much infighting, so much debate over doctrinal purity, so much bickering over sexual orientation.

Why do I stay? Because these issues are not the center. Jesus has clear authority over these storms. Jesus is greater than any of these storms.

The 17^th century philosopher and mathematician Pascal said something which I long ago memorized. He wrote, “There is a certain joy in being in a ship on a storm-lashed sea when one is sure that the ship will not sink.” The church is a ship on a storm-lashed sea, but it will not sink. 

Jesus says, “Peace. Be still. It’s okay. I’m here, and I’m in charge.”

A GREAT CALM

One other point needs to be made about this story. It’s a small touch that is seen in some fashion in all three accounts in the gospels. The calm Jesus brings in the storm is a “great calm”—sometimes translated a “dead calm” or an “absolute calm.” In other words the storm does not just slow down. The storm does not just quiet enough to allow the disciples to paddle to safety. The storm does not relocate in some other part of the Sea of Galilee. Instead the writers say there was a great calm. 

In the presence of the Master, there is a perfect peacefulness, a tranquility, a stillness of the soul.

Is this not what Jesus meant when he said, “My peace I give to you, not as the world gives.” Or is this not what Paul meant when he wrote about the “peace that surpasses all human understanding”? 

We often sing a hymn that many of you love. A few lines are very important.

Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side…

Be still my soul, the waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

                                                                  (UM Hymnal, #534)

 During my seminary years I was greatly affected by a preacher by the name of Helmut Thielicke. Thielicke was a preacher in Marburg, Germany during and after World War II. I bought many of his books as they were translated into English. In one of those books he writes:  

Whoever has fellowship with the Father in Jesus Christ knows that this part of his/her life cannot be touched by anybody or anything. Often I may wriggle and writhe like a worm, but in that secret part I am held. That is immovable and the storms of life cannot invade that peace…There I have a hold, because there I am held. There is the place where the world is overcome.[iii]

In the midst of the noise of possible war, in the wake of a sick sniper snuffing out one life at a time in the Washington, DC area, in the wake of whatever personal storms threaten you right now, my hope is this: that you will know (and I will know) and claim an amazing level of peace. 

Are any storms rushing at you right now? Big ones? Little ones? Are there storms whose intensity are totally unknown to you? Where do you need to hear the voice of Jesus say to you, “Peace. Be still. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m still in charge.”