Scripture text: Mark 4:35-41
There is storm blowing all around us. The waves are tossing us about, spilling over into the boat. We see the lightning. We hear the thunder. We’re being thrown against the rails, battered about. We’re tired and there’s no end in sight.
And Jesus is asleep on the cushion.
The storm has many names. It takes many forms. This week was a perfect conglomeration of awfulness, like everything that is wrong in our society bundled up into one horrific event. Another mass shooting. Another incident of brutality against the African-American community. Another act of terror on American soil. At a church, where people were gathered for worship. In a room we church people call a “sanctuary,” death came calling.
And Jesus is asleep on the cushion.
We can add this latest nightmare to the long list of things we see every night on the news. Child molesters, murders, ISIS ascendant in the Middle-East, plagues in Africa, corruption in Washington, economic instability in our markets, you name it. The future looks bleak. There’s a storm in our world today.
And Jesus is asleep on the cushion.
And then there’s our own lives. Our own struggles: illness, family difficulties, job troubles. Too little money. Too little time. Too much stress. The storm is close to home.
And Jesus is asleep on the cushion.
It’s easy for us to want to be like the disciples in that boat: full of fear and astonished and infuriated that their Lord is so apathetic, so oblivious, to their plight that he dares to sleep through this crisis. Panic has set in! They’re all going to die! We’re all going to die!
People will tell you that the worst thing one can do in the midst of crisis is panic. And yet, that is precisely what the disciples are doing and it is precisely what we have been doing. For almost 15 years, pretty much since 9/11, our nation, our society, has been gripped with fear. We are paranoid about terrorism. We are afraid of changing demographics; white people are becoming a minority. The institutional church is dying. We are afraid of crime. We are afraid of disease. We are afraid of our own government. And the news media does not help, having long since figured out that peddling fear is good for business.
And because we are afraid, we are making things worse.
Ask any of the police who now stand accused of these various incidents of brutality why they did what they did, and they will likely tell you they were afraid for their lives. But why would they, unless we are being taught and told that we are supposed to be afraid of people of color? The shooter in North Carolina killed those people because he was afraid that “black people were taking over the world.” But why would he believe such a thing unless we are being taught and told that we are supposed to fear such a thing? Listen to the rhetoric surrounding the gay marriage debate and you’ll hear all kinds of talk about how it will destroy the institution of marriage. There’s no evidence of that, but why would we believe such things unless we’re being told that it’s something to be afraid of?
But what is Jesus telling us? Not much, since he’s asleep on the cushion. But what a powerful statement that is.
He’s sleeping in this story not because he doesn’t care. He’s sleeping in this story not because he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s asleep because he’s not afraid.
When he’s woken, Jesus responds with astonishment to the disciples. Did they not get it? Did they not realize his being asleep said everything they needed to know? Did they not get that they were really in no danger? He commands the storm to stop almost as an afterthought, as if to just simply appease the disciples pointless fear. Then he turns to them and chides them. “Oh, ye of little faith.” Did you really think this is where it ends? Did you really think we would die here? The Son of Man did not come to drown in a storm, but to give his life as a ransom for the world. Don’t you get it?
I think Jesus is trying to tell us the same thing. Do we really think this is where it ends? Do we really think that everything is falling apart around us? Are we truly afraid of this when there’s nothing to be afraid of?
It’s funny. I was laughing at myself the other night. I was a night of insomnia, not uncommon with some of the medications I’m on. But what was running through my head made me laugh. There was this old promotional cassette tape that I used to have, basically a mixtape of various one-off Christian songs. And those songs were running through my head, keeping me awake. Most of those songs I’d not listen to in 20 years or more. but there they were.
But you know something, there was one among them that fits and maybe through that bit of insomnia craziness, the Holy Spirit was trying to tell me something. There was a song on that tape by the old Christian group First Call called “The Future.” And its chorus went
“I may not know what the future holds
But I know who holds the future
I may listen to a thousand tongues
But I only hear one whisper
If I act upon that voice of love
Then I know I am a seeker
I can't see much past the present
But I know who holds the future”
The world is always going to have a bit of craziness to it. There will always be the rumble of thunder as the storm of sin does its best to frighten us. But Jesus is asleep on the cushion and with good reason. There is nothing to fear. God still reigns. He is the one who holds the future. The story doesn’t end here. It ends in glory. It ends in triumph. It ends in life and love and peace and justice. Christ’s whisper, or if you will, his snore, is reminding us of that. There is nothing to fear. God is still in charge. Amen.
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