Sermon, Sun 24 June: 'That sinking feeling'

Rembrandt's 'The Storm on the Sea of Galilee'

This week's 'Food for the journey' during the week:
Read through the Gospel passage slowly. Sit a while with Rembrandt's painting 

and perhaps imagine what being on the boat was like. Where are you in the picture?
What might you say to Jesus in the midst of the storm?

If it's helpful, use the prayer at the bottom of the sermon to assist your personal reflections.

READINGS: Ps 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Cor 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41

SERMON 

Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth, and the thoughts of all our hearts, 

be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

I may have mentioned at some point before, the custom in some parts the United States 

of churches putting the titles of sermons on their noticeboards outside. 

One such church, advertising morning and evening worship, had this rather ‘interesting’ 

combination of sermon titles:

Morning worship: ‘Jesus in the boat’

Evening worship: ...‘Looking for Jesus’ 

Oh, dear.

I did wonder if the Galilean Navy might be involved in that particular search – 

but the sign did serve as a useful lesson: 

to be careful when thinking up sermon titles!

Our readings today, in different ways, feature storms.

Listen to the words of the Psalmist –

and as you do, think just how closely they mirror our Gospel reading.

The Psalmist says:

Some went out on the sea in ships;

    They saw the works of the Lord,

    his wonderful deeds in the deep.

For he spoke and stirred up a tempest

    that lifted high the waves.

They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths; -

you can almost see the great rolling waves there, yes? –

    in their peril their courage melted away.

They reeled and staggered like drunkards;

    they were at their wits’ end.

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

    and he brought them out of their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper;

    the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

    and he guided them to their desired haven.

You can see the parallels between the Psalm and the account 

of the disciples in the boat on the Sea of Galilee.

When I was thinking about these readings, my mind wandered to the movie ‘Jaws’ –

bear with me!

There’s a scene towards the end of the movie when the Sherriff and his side-kick 

head out on a boat with a hardened, very experienced fisherman: a professional shark hunter. 

They’re determined to catch and kill the Great White shark that has been menacing 

the small beach community. Off they go, out to sea. 

Barrels of shark bait are thrown overboard to attract the great sharp-toothed beastie. 

It’s not long until the shark shows up.

And when it does, they’re all awe-struck – this shark is enormous.

And the Sherriff, looking at this freakishly huge shark, 

utters one of the great, iconic lines of the film, saying:

‘I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.’

After a lot of suspense and some pretty terrifying and gruesome scenes in the ensuing battle, 

eventually the monster is killed – 

having managed to eat the skipper and destroy the boat in the process.

Let me tell you, as someone who grew up in and around boats, 

after seeing that wretched movie it took me a very long time not to get twitchy 

every time I went out on the water. 

The fear was real!

‘We’re gonna need a bigger boat...’ 

I wonder, if the disciples, in the midst of the freakishly big storm that had 

come suddenly upon them, well...I wonder if any of them might have had the same thought? 

These guys are experienced sailors: 

they know the conditions like the back of their hand;

they know their way around a boat;

but suddenly they’re all at sea: literally and metaphorically.

There they are, in the midst of a great storm – 

as our text says ‘a furious storm’ –

a tempest so mighty that it lifted high the waves and caused their tiny boat to be caught up 

in waves so high that they felt as if they were being carried to the heavens ...

and, what goes up, must come down:

so from the heights, they found themselves being hurled to what seemed the very 

depths of the sea. 

Terrifying.

They find themselves battling the elements

find themselves battling for their very lives.

As with the Psalm:

in their peril, their courage melted away;

they reeled and staggered like drunkards;

they were at their wits’ end.

Fear.

As you read the account, you can almost smell it.

It was the end of what had probably been 

quite a long day.

Jesus had been teaching –

telling stories about the kingdom of God –

using simple, every day examples to connect with the crowds who followed him 

wherever he went.

The kingdom was like ...scattering seeds and letting them grow as they would;

The kingdom was like the tiny mustard seed: 

how resilient it was, and how it seemed to sprout everywhere...

There were other stories, too, about lamps on stands.

By evening, it was time for a change. 

Rather than waiting until the dawn, Jesus says to the disciples:

‘let us go to the other side.’

Nothing in our gospel account gives us any indication why Jesus seems to be in such a hurry:

it’s safer to travel by day, he could wait overnight;

and, he goes ‘just as he is’ – no extra supplies, no change of clothes.

‘Let us go to the other side.’

And so they make ready.

On this side of the sea Jesus and the disciples are on home ground – 

they know the area, the culture, share the same religion.

To go to the other side, meant to go to Gentile territory.

Going to the other side meant change and moving out of their comfort zone.

Heading out from the shore,

they find that they've moved very much out of their comfort zone

before they even reached the other side.

But wait a minute.

Even in these early days of Jesus’ ministry,

the disciples have seen him perform miracles.

When the storms of life are raging –

or the Sea of Galilee –

Jesus is, in fact, standing by them.

Sure, he’s asleep.

But he’s there.

And perhaps because he’s able to sleep in the wild and furious storm, 

surely, they should take heart from that –

have a little faith –

even if it’s as small as a mustard seed.

But... it is still early days:

They’re getting to know him, getting to see what he can do – 

which is amazing, but, they don’t as yet really know him.

And because they don’t, there, in the storm,

rather than take comfort that Jesus is with them, they panic.

Rather than asking: ‘Teacher, can you fix this?’

instead, they accuse him of not caring:

‘Don’t you care if we drown?’

Faced with two choices – fear, or faith –

they let fear swamp them just as much as the waves are swamping the boat.

We heard the story: Jesus stills the storm –

from great storm, to great calm.

But instead of being afraid of the storm, the disciples are now afraid of Jesus:

‘Who is this – even the wind and waves obey him?’

Simply put: he is the Son of the One who, in the words of the Psalmist

‘stilled the storm to a whisper;

    the waves of the sea were hushed.’

They learn a little more about this rabbi they’ve been following –

he can do healings, they’ve seen that,

but his power goes beyond that of mere humans:

it extends to power over creation.

They won’t just need a bigger boat to weather storms –

they’re gonna need a bigger view of God.

Fear or faith?

‘Both fear and faith make sense only in relation to something that is unknown, challenging, difficult, or threatening. I mean, it’s just those kinds of things that make us afraid. 

And, when you stop to think about it, it’s just those same kinds of things that summon faith to face them. Indeed, in the face of things that are unknown, challenging, difficult, or threatening, it almost seems like there is a clear choice in front of us – fear or faith.’ David Lose

Following Jesus doesn’t mean difficult things won’t happen: 

we see that clearly in this gospel story, and throughout the gospels –

indeed, we see it expressed very clearly in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, 

where he talks of being caught up in other kinds of storms:

not the being on a boat in the sea kind, but being caught up in the storms of life 

that had come about due to following Jesus:

‘we live on; beaten and not yet killed, sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; 

poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, yet possessing everything.’

Perhaps it’s not so much of an either /or:

maybe ‘faith doesn’t so much banish fear as it does make it possible to cope with it...

maybe it’s not whether you’re afraid, but how you respond.'

And, having faith is about having trust:

trust grows in relation to the more you learn – the more you know about someone.

For the disciples, it will be a long, ongoing journey of getting to know Jesus.

They’ll make mistakes; 

they’ll misunderstand;

they may even think him mad at times,

and yet, in the end, as they discover him to be the Lord of life

they’ll find in him the longed-for Messiah:

the One who will not just rescue them from the storm,

but who will rescue the whole of humanity,

and they’ll understand that to follow him is perhaps to feel the fear, and do it anyway,

and hang on to his words to be at peace when the storms are all about them.

So, too, for us:

as we learn more of the One we follow and call ‘Lord’

so we learn to trust, even in the storms – especially in the storms –

it’s a long, ongoing journey:

it takes a whole life-time.

You might want to fasten your seat-belts for the ride that may just take you ‘to the other side’ 

– places you’ve never been, 

places outside your comfort zone.

But Jesus is here in the boat with us all the way – 

and, as his followers, we journey with him, and with each other: 

for, we’re all if us in this faith adventure together.

Let’s pray:

When dangers invade our sense of safety

and we wonder if our Redeemer cares,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

When we face job loss and financial downturns,

and our sense of security is shaky,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

When we experience distress, and conflict,

that feels like it will tear us apart,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

When our lives feel chaotic and desolate

because of illness or sorrow,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

Help us to know, O God, 

that the one who calmed the dangerous sea is present with us, cares for us, 

and can calm the stormy waters of our lives. 

Help us to trust more fully

 and more deeply in you. 

We pray in the name of Jesus, 

who invites us to be at peace. Amen.