Here’s my longer sermon notes from this morning’s Metro Christian Centre service (dated 22nd September 2024), continuing our series flicking through some of the epic scenes of Mark’s gospel.
You can also catch up with this via MCC’s YouTube channel (just give us time to get the video uploaded).
‘Julius Caesar | And the Roman Empire | Couldn’t conquer the blue sky’
—Crowded House[i]
‘Our life, like April weather, is made up of sunshine and showers’
—C. H. Spurgeon[ii]
READ: MARK 4:35-41 (NET)
INCREDIBLE
It may only be seven verses long (four, in Luke; five in Matthew), but this story packs a punch.[iii]
The story itself, contains three reality-hitting questions:
The disciples ask, ‘Don’t you even care?’ – A question we have all asked at some point or another in our lives. Who hasn’t experienced death, pain, turmoil, isolation—those moments when it feels like the bottoms of our worlds have fallen out, and we’ve wondered where God is, or whether God needs rousing.
And sure, it’s easy to talk about it merely feeling like this and then dismiss those feelings by saying God is never asleep. Which is true (I think). But, in this story, Jesus is asleep! And on a first pass reading of this story, this doesn’t help my anxiety.
Jesus asks the disciples, ‘Why are you afraid? – the second question in this story, and a question that raises questions, as we’ll see.
At the end of this epic scene, the disciples, still drenched to the bone and startled by what they have just seen—‘terrified’, as some translations rightly put it—are understandably left asking, as they look at Jesus, ‘Who is this man?’
They have never asked this question before. Not once.
By the time we get to this story, the disciples have been travelling with Jesus for several weeks, maybe months. They have seen Jesus cure those with leprosy, drive out demons, and heal the sick—including a paralysed man. All of this has caused people, including the disciples, to praise God—they had never seen such amazing things.[iv] His miracles and the frequency of them have been incredible.
But this is the first time they have ever looked at Jesus and realised that he is incredible.
I use the word incredible because it not only means extraordinary, but also hard to believe.
This may seem like an odd thing for a believing Christian to say, especially a pastor, but Jesus is hard to believe. He’s hard to comprehend. I struggle to get my head around Jesus and to squeeze him into some neat category. Jesus constantly resists the boxes I attempt to enclose him in. He is fathomless, immeasurable. Too big for words and beautiful beyond description. Larger than life, even.
Jesus is incredible.
It’s important to remember this, because there’s a danger in reading this story. The danger is, we often want to get to ‘us’, to ‘me’, to ‘my life’. We want to know how this story applies to what we are experiencing now. So, when we read a story about Jesus calming the storm, we immediately jump to the so-called “storms”, the problems and hardship we are facing. As such, in our hands, this gospel story turns into a metaphor, a symbol for our life.
To be fair, there’s nothing wrong with this—I will mention our “storms”, at some point. It’s normal, proper even, to want to know where God is in our storms, and to trust God through those storms.
However, this story is not metaphor. Mark is writing about a real experience, a real moment in history when Jesus, a real person, calms a real storm, not a metaphorical one.
THE TAMING OF THE SEAS
He rebukes the wind, and he soothes the waves.
Crazy!
You have to picture this scene to see how awesome and bewildering this is.
Jesus treats the waters like a panicked animal, according to the Greek wording Mark uses.
If you ever had the experience, imagine you own a dog, and there’s a cat outside teasing the dog –as cats enjoy doing when there’s a pane of safety glass between them and a dog. The cat’s teasing has got the hairs on the back of the dog’s neck and back standing up, the dog is growling and barking its head off, and pacing back and forth.
So, you go outside and ‘rebuke’ the cat, ‘Clear off!’ Then you return to the dog, stroking it, going, ‘Shhh, hush’, to calm it down. Not only until the dog stops barking, but also until the hairs on its back flatten and the dog lies down to snooze again
Mark’s describing a similar scene, here.
Jesus tells the wind, which has stirred the sea up into a frenzy to ‘clear off’, and off it goes, with its tail between its legs. Of course, like a dog that has seen a cat, once the wind has cleared off, the waves of the sea would continue to roar for some time if left to their own devices. But, Jesus soothingly says, ‘Hush!’ (siōpaō) to the waves and puts a “leash” on them, stilling them (phimoō–a word literally meaning to muzzle).
Again, it’s crazy scene—talking to the elements as if they can be tamed. But the effect is instantaneous.
As Mark describes, suddenly there’s a great calm, not a ripple on the surface.[v] Under the tender care of Jesus, what would normally take much longer, takes a mere moment and ‘the surface of the sea had become smooth as a mirror.’[vi]
Incredible.
‘Who is this man, that even wind and waves obey?’ Who is this man who can tame the elements?
No one has ever controlled the weather, let alone the sea.
In the ancient world, the general cultural perception was that the sea was untameable. In a lot of the ancient myths and legends, the sea is cast as a symbol for chaos, an unstoppable, ungovernable destructive force.
Even in the Hebrew bible (the Old Testament), it takes a deity to calm the waves, something only God can do. There are plenty of verse referencing God’s ability to hush the waves, muzzle the seas, and still the storm.[vii] The creation story of Genesis 1, also spells this out; it’s God alone who speaks into the waters of chaos and brings about order.
Humanly speaking, taming the sea and the weather is impossible, and always has been. Even the most powerful among us cannot do this. Some people would like to believe they are great and mighty, but when the storms come, their frailty is exposed.To quote a famous song lyric, not even Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire could conquer the blue skies.
We wish we could control and correct the weather. We talk about one day of having technology to seed clouds and make it rain—but that’s still the stuff of science fiction. We spend millions on storm protection and the repairing of storm damage. If only we could point some remote-control-like device at the riotous roar of the seas and press ‘stop’. If someone invented such a thing, they’d rightly deserve the nobel prize. On the other hand, if someone turned up among us today, who, without technology, could make waves stop churning, I think we, too, would find them incredible.
Some people read the New Testament and make the claim that it never speaks of Jesus as being God. That is far from true, and this story is but one example. Here is Jesus, stood in a boat, taming the sea. He does not employ technology. He doesn’t conjure anything, using an incantation or by calling on some higher power and authority than his own. Jesus does not say, ‘In the name of so and so, stop!’
Jesus just speaks, ‘Shhh! be still!’ And the wind and waves obey.
Who is this man?
PHOBIA
No wonder the disciples are awestruck. The question buzzing about their brains is, ‘how can this man do what only God can do?’
Notice though, that they’re muttering among themselves about this. They don’t dare address the question to Jesus directly, because, in the very same suddenly as the waves cease, they have become uneasy around Jesus.
As it unfolds in Mark’s story, ‘before Jesus calms the storm, they’re afraid—but after Jesus calms the storm, they’re terrified.’[viii] Jesus has gotten rid of the storm, but not the hysteria, it seems. It’s more like he’s now the object of it.
I get it.
The storm had immense, unmanageable power—they couldn’t control it and their best efforts were futile and weak before it. But now, Jesus has shown that he has more power than the storm. With this display comes the recognition that they have even less control over Jesus.[ix] The one who puts the seas on a leash, cannot be put on a leash.
When they say, ‘Who is this man?’, they do so with tremoring voices.
Which is understandable, given the circumstances.
I’m a fan of superheroes—always have been. But, there’s often an expectation that if a super-powered individual, like Superman, ever did show up in reality, that we would applaud, cheer and idolise. Honestly, though, I don’t think we would. I think we would feel intimidated, threatened, scared even before such raw power.[x]
I mean, let’s be honest, these days we’re intimidated by Instagram posts that have been heavily filtered.
Outside of struggle with our comparisons of one another, we’re also not very trusting of those who wield our limited and finite human power. We’ve seen how non-absolute power can corrupt absolutely, to reword the famous saying. We’ve witnessed the abuse and oppression, the manipulation and propaganda, the megalomania and greed. Power can be a scary thing.
Next to someone authentically awesome and absolutely powerful we would react like the disciples are doing before Jesus in this scene.
I think it’s important we grasp this context. Only because, it will help us make better sense of Jesus’ question, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still trust me?’
Even though Mark writes these words before telling us of the disciples’ fearful posture, we have to visualise this scene, remembering that Jesus has just calmed the storm and turned to face his disciples. Jesus is looking at his cowering, terrified followers as he delivers these words.
In Mark’s telling of this story, Jesus’ question is not addressing their fear of the storm, but their fear of Him.[xii]
They are genuinely scared—not mere ‘awe’, as some translators put it. The Greek word Mark uses is phobeō—it’s where we get our word phobia. To put it bluntly, they’ve developed a phobia of Jesus.
They don’t need to be afraid, however. Because, as Tim Keller pointed out, there is a huge difference between a storm and Jesus. A storm doesn’t love you.[xi] Jesus does.
They need not fear Jesus. Unlike an unfeeling and unthinking storm that swamps us and overwhelms us with no regard at all, Jesus’ power is driven by love and compassion. In the midst of their dread, Jesus wants them to know, and is inviting them to know, that he can be trusted with such raw power. He’s never going to use his power like a storm to dominate, overpower or overwhelm us. Rather, Jesus—in a way we would not do if we wielded such authority—employs his power to seek, serve and to save.
He is incredible and incredibly powerful, but Jesus can also be trusted.
THE INVITATION
I’m saying this, because otherwise, if read in a different light, Jesus’ answer sounds like an angry rebuke, depending upon who reads it. And, to be honest, that seems unfair and heartless.
For starters, this is a dangerous storm.
I’ve never been, but from what I’ve read, the Sea of Galilee is an unpredictable place. Because of its geographical location and distance below sea level, it’s weather patterns can change quickly (even quicker than the UK’s).
All it takes is a certain wind to blow down from the surrounding mountains, and all of a sudden, the calm waters of Galilee are whipped up into a frenzy, with waves reaching up to 10 feet tall—waves that can toss a small boat around like a child’s toy. It’s not only boats that are at risk, either. Apparently, there are signs along the western shore, today, warning drivers of the risk if you park there—you can literally say goodbye to your vehicle if a storm arises.[xiii]
I would not want to be hit by a wave that can move a car!
High, powerful and violent waves are beating against this fishing boat, and water is filling it faster than they can bail it out. They are on the verge of going under.
It’s worth noting, that four of these guys (Simon, Andrew, James and John) are experienced fisherman, who have fished these waters since childhood. If they say, ‘we’re drowning’, then the threat is real.
Maybe, if it were Judas or Levi shouting this out, we would ignore them. Sleep on, Jesus. After all, what do those land-lovers know; it’s just a few waves. It would be like sitting on a plane, next to someone who is afraid of flying and hitting some turbulence. We’d say, ‘hush, everything’s going to be alright.’
But, this is not that. This is more like being on a plane, with the pilot running out of the cockpit screaming, ‘we’re going to crash!’
The danger is real, here. This is not an irrational overreaction on the part of the disciples. The boat is sinking. Death is a real and likely outcome. Not only for this one boat, but also the other boats that have followed this one.
If I was on this small fishing craft in the midst of this storm, I would be ‘bricking it’, to use my native scouse.
I shouldn’t really have to explain this, but fear is a natural response. In some scenarios, it’s life-saving. Sure, when people panic, things can go disastrously wrong—but panic causes more problems than fear itself does. When we’re afraid, adrenaline is released alerting every part of our body; our blood pressure increases, sending extra oxygen to our muscles; our pupils dilate, letting in more light; our senses become hyper-aware of what’s happening.
Our body naturally reacts, preparing us either to run away or to face the problem. If a herd of elephants is charging toward me, fear rightly informs me and “equips” me to get out of the way.[xiv]
It takes training, like that of an ER nurse or military personal to control that fear. Even then, such people don’t prevent fear, they just learn how to respond without panic.
Surely, Jesus gets all of this.
Surely, Jesus can’t be so insensitive to an actual life-threatening scenario.
Surely, Jesus understands the design of our bodies.
Surely, when Jesus says, ‘Where is your faith?’, he is not suggesting that if only we would believe a little harder, then our brain chemistry wouldn’t kick in and we wouldn’t fear at all.
Maybe I’m wrong in suggesting this, but it’s a good thing that the disciples recognised the danger they were in. It’s a good thing the adrenaline kicked in. It’s a good thing they went and woke Jesus up. When times get hard, turn to Jesus—there’s never any lack of faith in such an act.
Sadly, there may exist people who think that we should smile at every problem, or worse, live in denial. Scripture does not ask me to pretend that everything is alright. Rather, the Bible encourages me to pray about all things and to cast all my anxiety onto him.[xv]
I have a lot of anxiety, so Jesus gets a lot cast onto him.
Like the disciples, my prayers may even come off in the same tone as the disciples, ‘Don’t you even care!’ If (read when) they do, I’m only following a precedent set out in scripture. Job in his distress feels like God can’t be found.[xvi] The psalmists often talk about this sense of God being hidden, or of dragging his feet. ‘How long, O Lord.’[xvii] In times of trouble, my words probably lack any reverence and finesse to them—I’m not saying that’s appropriate. Sometimes, I can only manage a puny ‘help.’ But, like Jesus in this story, God hears, nonetheless.
We’re taught that God is a good father, who knows and cares about us. God’s not insensitive and hard-hearted. God appropriately responds, like all good parents do, to our cries. Sometimes (but certainly not at all times), God stills the storm. Most of the time, God has the harder task of stilling me.
Sadly, there may even be people who think that if we only had more ‘faith’, if we only believed ‘harder’, then we would never encounter any storms or problems at all. This is far from true.
It’s only the ‘prosperity gospel’ and modern self-help scams about positive thinking that suggest that if we had ‘real’ faith, or if we only think positive thoughts, then we will only ever attract good things to us and ours. But life doesn’t work that way. I’m sorry to break that to you. To think this way is not faith at all, but superstition. And, I should add, a tad narcissistic, for thinking that the world revolves around ‘me’.
The harsh reality is all people go through storms, and for all sorts of reasons. Bad things happen to all people.[xviii]
Bad things even happened to the best and most incredible of all people. Jesus was crucified, after all, not pampered to death.
As Charles Spurgeon once said it, ‘Our life, like April weather, is made up of sunshine and showers’.
Or, as C. S. Lewis once described it when he went through some very dark times; the presence of problems and pain does not mean that we have been forsaken and singled out for some untrodden path, or that encountering problems means we have drifted away from God’s trail. Rather, it just means we are on the main road, along with everyone else—the same road Jesus himself chose to tread.[xix]
I don’t think Jesus is questioning any of this when he asks his disciples, ‘Why are you afraid?’ or ‘Where is your faith?’ Forgive me for not being the best pastor ever, but from my perspective, faith is not the absence of questions, or fears, or problems. Faith is a loyal persistence through all of those things.
So I don’t read these words as an accusation from Jesus. Rather, they’re an invitation to his disciples, and to us.
An invitation to continue to trust.
An invitation to reflect on what it means to be with God—especially when being with God doesn’t mean an easier, storm-free existence.
An invitation to lean into a power and a love we cannot begin to comprehend nor control.
An invitation not to fear Him and cower away, but to trust Him and draw close.
It is an invitation to remember and cling to the truth that nothing can separate us from God’s love. That even when the love of Christ does not separate us from the storm, we are called to trust in the fact that the storm cannot, shall not, will not separate us from the love of God shown to us in Christ Jesus.[xx]
Because, the thing is, just like in this story, when storms come (and they will), and we feel tossed about, Jesus is with us, being tossed about, too.[xxi] When the body suffers, the head does, too.
I have no idea about what you are facing right now, and neither can I begin to guess at how it feels. I can offer no trite cliches or maxims, and I would not dare to do so.
However, please know this: Jesus is incredible. He is powerful, but he’s not a bully or a tyrant. He’s a saviour. The saviour, even. He is not insensitive, or hard-hearted toward us. Rather, he enters into our sufferings with us and invites us to draw near.
God is not the storm.
God is with us in the storm.
And this is good news.
‘Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’
– Romans 8:35-39
‘But the Lord was not in the wind… or the earthquake… or the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.’
–1 Kings 19:11-12
ENDNOTES
[i] Weather With You, written by Neil Finn and Tim Finn, track 5 on the Crowded House album, Woodface (1991)
[ii] C. H. Spurgeon, Christ Asleep in the Vessel¸ Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Volume 19, July 13, 1873
[iii] Matthew 8:23-27; Luke 8:22-25
[iv] Mark 2:12
[v] As per endnote III, in my first post in this series, THE ABYSS, suddenly/immediately is one of Mark’s favourite words and is a purposeful choice for him.
[vi] William Hendriksen, New Testament Commentary, Mark (The Banner of Truth Trust, Edinburgh, 1975), p.179
[vii] For example see, Job 38:8-11; Psalm 65:7; 89:9-10; 93:3-4; 104:6-9; 107:25-30; Isaiah 27:1;
[viii] Timothy Keller, King’s Cross: The Story of the World in the Life of Jesus (Hodder & Stoughton, An Hachette UK Company, London, 2011), p. 53
[ix] As per Timothy Keller, Ibid, p. 54
[x] Of all the superhero portrayals of recent years, I think Zack Snyder’s vision of Superman, in his DC universe (sadly now cancelled), showed this concept well; with some of humanity idolising Superman, while others saw him as a threat to humanity (Batman, among them). Though I’ve not watched it, Amazon’s The Boys, also shows such animosity.
[xi] Timothy Keller King’s Cross: The Story of the World in the Life of Jesus (Hodder & Stoughton, An Hachette UK Company, London, 2011), p. 54
[xii] Admittedly, Matthew breaks with the sequence that Mark and Luke use to retell the story, and the ‘fear’ question comes before the calming of the wind and waves. This is intentional for another reason for Matthew. I’m not totally dismissing the idea that the disciples demonstrated some lack of faith in God’s purposes and agenda. I’ve preached on this myself in the past, using a comparison with the story of Jonah and it’s similarities to this account. To be sure, maybe the disciples, like the sailors in Jonah’s storm, saw Jesus’ decision to cross to the other shoreline (which was gentile area) as having been a break with God’s agenda. Maybe they presumed that they shouldn’t have been going that way at all, and hence, their waking up of Jesus and compelling him to do something was akin to them thinking he should ‘repent’ of this course of action, or worse still, wishing him out of the boat, like Jonah. I suggest this, because although the disciples rouse Jesus, it isn’t clear what they expected him to do to ‘save them’ (to use Matthew’s language). Surely, they could not have expected him to stop the storm by speaking to it; otherwise, their awed response at the end makes no sense at all. I think Matthew moves Jesus’ question to stress the importance of trust in Jesus’ agenda and mission—an important emphasis and lesson from this story, not only in Matthew, but also Mark and Luke. Matthew, it should be noted, also removes the phobeō response of the disciples, choosing instead to emphasize their thaumazō (wonder) at Jesus’ power. All this is to say, that Matthew has a specific purpose and lesson to draw out for his audience: that following Christ will entail storms and that His agenda is to be trusted as well as his character.
[xiii] Tom Wright notes the car park signs in, Mark for Everyone (SPCK, London, 2012), p. 51
[xiv] I’m aware that fears and phobias can have a dark side. I’m also aware that people can manipulate others with and via fear. None of this is good, at all. However, fear itself is neither ‘good’ nor ‘bad’ in and of itself. Rather, it’s what is done with it.
[xv] Philippians 4:6; 1 Peter 5:7; Psalm 55:2
[xvi] Job 23:8-9
[xvii] Psalm 10:1; 13:1; 44:24.
[xviii] Of course, some will want to talk about the ‘benefits’ of storms. So, although I have no desire for storms in my life, I also have to admit that certain storms (not all) have grown me, pruned me, and matured me. Storms have had an extraordinary way of reminding me of what is important and what is not. Storms burst the illusion that I am in control, and they expose my idols. This is not to say that they are “good”, and nor am I suggesting that we should be chasing or creating storms. But they are a part of this life and they provide opportunities that calmer waters do not. On another note, some storms have left me weaker and bereft. As a gut reaction, I want to dismiss these altogether as being beneficial at all. However, in those weaknesses, when I look back, God’s strength has been evident.
[xix] C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcom, Chiefly on Prayer (Fontana Books, 1966), p.47. In the same conversation, Lewis also points out that, ‘It is saints, not common people, who experience the ‘dark night’…The ‘hiddenness’ of God perhaps presses most painfully on those who are in another way nearest to Him, and therefore God Himself, made man, will of all men be by God most forsaken?’
[xx] To borrow the words of Lutheran pastor (ix), Nadia Bolz-weber: https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2012-05/sunday-june-24-2012
[xxi] As Spurgeon put it, ‘If there be nothing more, the presence of the Lord ought to be enough to cheer us. Our heavenly Father knows our need. To be banished from the presence of God would be hell; but however tossed with tempest our vessel may be, we cannot despair so long as the Lord is our companion.
Remember, again, that although Christ was asleep, he was tossed about as much as the disciples were, and in the same peril. They might well say, “Carest thou not that we perish?” putting him with themselves, for they would have gone down together, both he and they. If we are persecuted, Jesus is persecuted. If we suffer, the head suffers in the members. Our cause is his cause. This should encourage us.’ (Ibid ii)
TRISTAN SHERWIN 
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