Due to potentially damaging weather this afternoon and evening, the children’s musical and pre-show events in the Leawood Sanctuary have been cancelled and will be rescheduled.
Scheduled programming has resumed for Thursday, February 13 at all Resurrection locations.
Later that day, when evening came, Jesus said to them, “Let’s cross over to the other side of the lake.” They left the crowd and took him in the boat just as he was. Other boats followed along. Gale-force winds arose, and waves crashed against the boat so that the boat was swamped. But Jesus was in the rear of the boat, sleeping on a pillow. They woke him up and said, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re drowning?” He got up and gave orders to the wind, and he said to the lake, “Silence! Be still!” The wind settled down and there was a great calm. Jesus asked them, “Why are you frightened? Don’t you have faith yet?” Overcome with awe, they said to each other, “Who then is this? Even the wind and the sea obey him!”
In Sunday’s prayer tip, we read this same account from the book of Matthew. Mark tells us the same story from the perspective of a different writer. Jesus had spent the day teaching from a boat, and by evening he was worn out enough to fall asleep on a cushion while a storm filled the boat with water around him. These were experienced fishermen. They knew the difference between rough water and a storm that kills, and this one told them they were going to die. So, they woke him, not gently, and their question had an edge of accusation in it. “Don’t you care?” He got up, spoke two words to the wind and the sea, and the whole lake went still.
The disciples asked two different questions that night. Before the storm ended, their question was about Jesus’ character. “Don’t you care?” After the storm ended, their question was about his identity. “Who then is this?” N.T. Wright, writing on this passage, pointed out that the Psalms had already described a God who could “rule the raging of the sea,” calming what no human power could touch.* They disciples were watching someone speak with the same authority the Psalms had reserved for God alone. Jesus, asleep in the boat, was not a sign he had stopped caring. It was a sign of how tired an ordinary human body gets. But also, Jesus shows us who he is, a few seconds later, silencing a storm with just two words.
Most of us have had our own version of that question. Something falls apart, we pray, and nothing seems to change, so we start to wonder, quietly or out loud, “Doesn’t God care?” The disciples’ story doesn’t promise that God will never experience storms. It shows a promise upon which we can rely. Jesus is in the boat with you before the wind ever changes. He might not calm your storm the moment you want him to, but he is there with you all the same.
Lord Jesus, when my storm feels bigger than my faith, meet me the way you met the disciples in that boat. Forgive me for the times I’ve mistaken your quiet for your absence. Remind me that you are never caught off guard by what frightens me, even when you seem to be asleep. Grow in me a trust that doesn’t wait for the water to still before it believes you’re near. Amen.
Emily Stirewalt serves as the Silver Link Pastor at Resurrection
When I think of a time in my life where it has seemed as though Jesus was asleep during a storm, foster parenting comes to mind. The first foray into parenting my spouse and I experienced was in March 2019. We said yes to a newborn baby boy who had been exposed to drugs in utero, and he came with a 19-month-old sister and 3.5-year-old brother. We did not know until we arrived at Children’s Division that all three would be in diapers. It was a whirlwind of car seat installations. Amazon registries from our incredible village and the longest possible bedtime routines imaginable. We found our rhythm by summer and after sixteen months of caring for these three precious children, their parents did what they needed to do to reunify with their children. It was the best possible situation and outcome for the children and what we had committed to as foster parents. And my heart shattered into a million pieces watching them drive away with the case worker. We said goodbye and have never seen them since.
I was certain we would never be able to be parents of any sort again. After years of struggling to conceive naturally, IVF seemed out of the question financially and emotionally. And I was not sure I could get “too attached” ever again. It was a storm to rival so many others in life. If you have ever yearned to be a parent and have had challenges coming into that role, you also know how hard the feelings of loss and inadequacy are in that storm life can offer.
We have two hard prayed for children now-both miracles in their own story rainbows in our storm. They remind me every day that God will make a way, even when the storm seems relentless.
* N.T. Wright, Mark for Everyone (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004).