Asleep in the Storm

Read

Mark 4:37-41 “A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?’ He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’ They were terrified and asked each other, ‘Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!’”

Think

A friend of mine was out on the ocean years ago and saw five storms on the horizon. Not one. Five. They were spread across the skyline like a wall, and his first instinct was to try to outrun them. He gunned the engine and headed for a gap between two of the cells. But the storms were faster. They started closing in from every direction. The wind picked up. The water turned from blue to gray to black. And after twenty minutes of trying to dodge what could not be dodged, he cut the engine and said, "We’ve just got to sit here and ride it out."

I think about that story often because it describes how most of us handle the storms of life. We try to outrun them. We strategize around them. We look for the gap. We gun the engine and hope speed will save us. And when the storms close in anyway, we panic. Because we were never built to outrun them. We were built to ride them out with somebody at the helm who is bigger than the weather.

The disciples were seasoned fishermen. These were not weekend hobbyists. They had spent their lives on the water. They knew storms. They knew how to read the sky and reef the sail and bail the water. But this storm was different. Mark says the waves broke over the boat so that it was nearly swamped. This was the kind of storm that makes experienced sailors pray. And where was Jesus? Asleep. On a cushion. In the stern of the boat.

That detail has always fascinated me. Jesus was not pacing. He was not gripping the side of the boat. He was not staring at the waves with a worried expression. He was sleeping. On a cushion. In the middle of a storm that professional fishermen thought was going to kill them. And that tells you everything you need to know about the difference between God’s perspective and ours. What terrifies us does not disturb him. What overwhelms us does not even interrupt his rest. Not because he does not care, but because he knows something we do not. He knows how the story ends.

The disciples asked the question that every person asks in the middle of a storm. "Don’t you care if we drown?" That is the silence question dressed in storm clothes. It is the same cry David makes in Psalm 13. It is the same question every believer has whispered at 2 a.m. when the diagnosis came back or the phone rang or the marriage collapsed. God, are you there? And if you are, why does it feel like you are sleeping through this?

Here is what I want you to notice. Jesus did not rebuke the disciples for waking him up. He rebuked the wind. He stood up and said, "Quiet! Be still!" and the storm obeyed. The God who seemed asleep was never unaware. He was simply not worried. And the rebuke he offered the disciples was not for their fear. It was for what the fear revealed. "Do you still have no faith?" In other words, "After everything you have seen me do, do you still think a storm is bigger than I am?"

Life is a series of squalls. That is just the truth. You will not get from here to eternity without storms. Some of them will be small and manageable. Others will feel like five on the horizon closing in from every direction with no gap to squeeze through. And in those moments, the temptation is to assume that God’s silence means God’s absence. That if he is not acting the way you want, he must not care. That if the storm has not stopped, he must not be in the boat.

But he is in the boat. He has always been in the boat. The storm does not change that. The noise does not change that. Your inability to feel him does not change that. Jesus did not climb into the disciples’ boat only when the weather was good. He was there before the storm, during the storm, and after the storm. The variable was never his presence. It was their perception of it.

My friend out on the ocean? He sat in that boat and rode out all five storms. The rain hammered down. The boat rocked. The wind screamed. And eventually, every single one of those storms passed. He did not outrun them. He outlasted them. And when the water went calm again, he said he had never been more grateful to be alive.

That is what faith looks like in the storm. Not the absence of fear. The presence of someone worth trusting. Even when he seems asleep. Even when the waves are breaking over the bow. He is in the boat. And the wind and the waves still obey him.

Apply

Ride it out – Name the storm in your life right now. Instead of trying to outrun it or strategize your way around it, bring it to God and say, "I trust that you are in this boat with me." Then stop treating his silence as absence. He is awake even when it looks like he is sleeping.

Pray

God, the storms are real. I feel them. The wind is loud and the waves are high and some days I cannot see the shore. But I believe you are in the boat with me. I believe that what terrifies me does not trouble you, not because you do not care, but because you are bigger than every storm on my horizon. Forgive me for mistaking your peace for indifference. Calm my heart the way you calmed that sea. I am not trying to outrun this anymore. I am riding it out with you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.