Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Even the Winds and the Sea

Now when Jesus saw great crowds around him, he gave orders to go over to the other side. A scribe then approached and said, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go." And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." Another of his disciples said to him, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus said to him, "Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead."
And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. A windstorm arose on the sea, so great that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him up, saying, "Lord, save us! We are perishing!" And he said to them, "Why are you afraid, you of little faith?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. They were amazed, saying, "What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?" Matthew 8:18-27

Storms come up quickly when you live by the water. Here the day can be sunny and then stormy within minutes. Life is often like that. Good, calm days can turn ugly in a minute. I remember being out on the water in a little boat with my dad. A storm rolled in and we had to pull up our fishing lines and move fast. It took all of our effort and a lot of prayer to make in safely into the shelter of the calmer channel.

The disciples are learning to trust Jesus and to follow him. They are anxious about how their lives will be. They get out on the water and find themselves in yet another storm. Their lives have been stormy of late, hanging around with Jesus. He calms the storm and calms them. They are shocked. And little by little they realize they can really trust him, even in the midst of a storm.

Today I ask God to help me be trusting at all times. It seems that one storm rolls in after another. May we trust God with every anxious moment, trusting that our lives are held securely in the heart of God.

1 comment:

Peter said...

True dream: I (Peter) was in the boat next to Jesus when the storm came up. Other disciples said to wake him, and I tried. I shook him. I poked him with an oar. I yelled. Nothing. He remained asleep. Now the boat (the church?) is filling with water, and we're all bailing as fast as we can, but are losing the battle. The boat fills up, capsizes, and Jesus' body floats away, still sleep. All the other disciples drown. Remembering what my grandfather taught me about wooden boats, I hung on to it, knowing it wouldn't sink. Eventually we washed ashore, somewhere near Tiberias. I am exhausted, but alive. Three days later, Jesus' body washes up on the beach.
And then I wake up.
My take: I can pray all I want, but in the end, I have to save myself by listening carefully to wisdom and acting on it. Jesus doesn't save. I do. Or maybe my grandfather (God?).