Keep Getting in the Boat

Mark 4:35-41

A common refrain in some Christian communities over the past year has been “Faith over fear.” We may have heard or even said ourselves the phrase “We cannot live in fear.” Indeed, one of the most repeated refrains in Holy Scripture is the invocation of the angels: Do not be afraid. Jesus’s response to the panic of his disciples in a storm tossed boat turns the familiar angelic greeting into searching questions. Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith? To our ears, in a culture that places fear in opposition to faith, in a society that often insists that fear and doubt are evidence of a lack of faith, these questions can feel like accusations. In a story of extraordinary miracle, in a moment of divine revelation, like the awe-struck disciples, we run the risk of missing the point if we allow our fear and shame overshadow the Gospel.

After many healings and many sermons like the sermon of the sower and the mustard seed, Jesus has grown weary and turns his face toward the far shore, seeking the lost and the lonely and the unwell who need to hear his healing words. His disciples, many of whom are fishermen by trade, take him aboard a vessel and he takes the opportunity to rest while more experienced sailors are at the helm. Others follow them in boats of their own, and as the small fleet progresses a mighty storm comes upon them, causing great waves and strong winds which threaten the safety of everyone aboard. By the time the distressed disciples wake Jesus, their boat has already taken on water and is in danger of sinking. For young men who have grown up on the sea, with boats and nets as their livelihood, to be so completely overtaken by fear, this must have been an exceptional storm.

And yet Jesus the teacher, Jesus the young man raised by a carpenter, Jesus who entrusted the sailing to experts, sleeps through the storm until the cries of his disciples wake him. Even then, he is not panicked or hurried, it is as if he might have sleepily raised a hand and spoke quietly but firmly as a parent woken by a young child’s nightmare. “Peace. Be Still.” Mark tells us that Jesus said these words to the sea, but perhaps they were also the words his fearful friends needed to hear from him in that moment. It is in the same voice still muffled by a deep slumber that Jesus turns to his young friends and asks “Why are you afraid?” And they are still afraid, even as the very danger that first sent them into desperation has been eradicated. The words are translated here “and they were filled with great awe” at this miracle, but that is a generous translation. The word that has been translated awe is a Greek word that you might find familiar as it is where we get our word phobia. Phobos. Fear. They were filled with great awe could also be read, “They feared greatly.”

And so Jesus asks “why are you afraid?”  We might hear in this our own voice telling a beloved child who is frightened “there is nothing to be scared of.” We might recall in the recesses of memory the voice of a beloved parent or grandparent or sibling offering us the same comfort once upon a time. Why are you frightened? There is nothing to fear. Do not be afraid. I am here. Jesus calms the storm with a word, and responds to the fear of his friends with a question. “Have you still no faith?” These friends whom Jesus has claimed as his own brothers and sisters, these students to whom he offers special instruction and explanations so that they might one day teach and preach his message to the nations, look at him with fear in their eyes and with questions of their own. Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him? They don’t get it yet. They don’t see the King of Heaven right in front of them. They still don’t understand.

And yet, despite their fear or maybe even because of it, we know that some part of them does understand. The same part of them that lives in us even in our darkest nights of doubt and forsakenness. Because when the winds were too strong, when the waves were too high and the depths threatened to overtake them, when they were quite literally in over their heads, what did they do? Who, like Jonah in the midst of a very similar storm, did they cry out to? They went looking for God, searching for help from the only place that in their heart of hearts they knew it would come. In the midst of fear and doubt and danger, the disciples cried out for Jesus. And he answered them, as only God can.

So often we follow in the stumbling footsteps of our ancestors the disciples. We place Jesus in the boat with us, out of the way and undisturbed, until the storm hits us. We scramble for solutions and frantically adjust our sails, as if we might by sheer force of will calm the sea ourselves. Until finally, often more by instinct than by intention, some small part of us remembers the sleeping savior in the back of the boat. Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing? Jesus, don’t you see that we’re dying here? We cry out in rage and anxiety and fear and grief, interceded for ourselves and our fellow passengers and for the very boat itself. Jesus speaks into our hearts “Peace, Be Still.” And like our friends the disciples, we so often brush past the sudden calm, not pausing for even a moment to drink in the miracle of our quiet hearts. Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith? The fear and the faith are not opposites, they are the question and the answer.

Our humanity, the depth of our need for one another and for God, is expressed most acutely by our fears. Fear of death, fear of loss, fear of inadequacy, fear of the unknown. Our fear is what reminds us that we are not alone in the boat, that we are not islands or even truly individuals. And our faith is what causes us to reach out with grasping hands toward the God who calms our storms and soothes our fearful souls. There is something deep within us that knows from whom our peace will come, to whom our cries of fear and anxiety and anguish ascend. To be a believer is not to live a life free from doubt. To be Christian is not to live a fearless life. To be a child of God is to fear, and to have faith, and to offer up both in ministry to this beloved broken world. To be a disciple of Jesus is to keep getting in the boat, knowing that he goes with us on our journey. The storms will come. In faith and fear, we will weather them.