A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm [Mark 4:37-39].
As noted by not a few NT scholars, there is a close relationship between the parables of Jesus and his miracles, particularly within the Gospel of Mark. Parables lead us on to miracles. Miracles show us what the parables mean.
That special relationship is seen particularly when we compare the parable found in last week’s Gospel lesson—the parable of the growing seed [Mark 4:26-34] and the miracle found in the lesson for this week—Mark 4: 35-41 [Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year B].
Last week’s parable was one of absence. Jesus tells us that the sower puts a seed in the ground, only then to wait.
Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how [Mark 4:27].
In this week’s lesson, Jesus acts out His parable. He has deposited a seed—His Gospel and the faith that springs from it—in and among the disciples. Like the mustard seed itself, the seed of faith that He has sown is small. And now, as expressed in His parable, the Sower waits. Having finished preaching to the assembly on the shore, having imbued His Gospel in His disciples, Jesus gets in the small boat and, in keeping with His parable, goes to sleep.
And then, as the Lord sleeps—and trusts—a storm emerges. In the face of the storm, His disciples do what we would have done. They worry and fret. They/We find it difficult—no, impossible—to wait for the seed to mature. They/We dare not sleep in the stern of the ship while the storm rages on. Something is wrong! Something needs to be fixed. And It needs to be fixed before we perish.
That Jesus is sleeping in the back of the boat makes things worse, of course, at least from the disciples’ perspective. “Does He not care?” Having heard a parable that implores them to wait, to be patient, to trust, they impatiently, fearfully, wake Him.
When Jesus awakes, their faith is restored. Their Lord, who seemed to have been absent (patiently waiting for the seed of faith to mature), is present again. He speaks to the waves and the wind and they (both the storm and the disciples) are calmed. What just a few minutes earlier had been awe and wonder (and fear) at the power of the wind and waves is now a different kind of awe and wonder. Jesus speaks and the world around Him obeys!
Jesus, the one who has been sleeping in the rear of the boat, shows them a world of reversals. He speaks of small seeds—the mustard seed—and large results: large shrubbery that shelters the birds. But more, Jesus lives that same sort of reversal.
At the beginning of Mark 4, in order to be heard by the large crowd, Jesus gets into a boat, so that his voice will carry over the water and the beach. Now, in the same boat, on the same day, His voice is sufficiently powerful so as to calm both the wind and the sea.
It isn’t, of course, the quantity of His voice that is important; it is its quality. The seed that is smallest produces the largest of the shrubs. The voice that formerly had difficulty being heard now commands the rolling wind and the churning sea.
And so, the commanding Voice that rebukes the wind and waves turns to us, saying, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” [Mark 4:40].
We examine our broken lives and confess that indeed, we are afraid. All too often, we invert our own parables, for in the full stretch of things, we turn common life’s worries into enormous crises. We worry about the world that we think we have so carefully constructed. The storm cascades around us and we are frightened.
Regarding the possible career move, we wonder, “Should I go hither or yon?”
Regarding that new relationship, the young couple debates, “Should we take ‘the next step,’ living together contingently, without actual promises made to each other before God and witnesses? It sure would make a potential breakup easier later.” The couple ignores the fact that the Sower loves to plant seeds among young people, that the strength of their relationship depends not upon their infatuation with each other, but with their devotion to Him.
The middle-aged couple shares their mutual concern: “Money’s tight, inflation is high. Is a tithe really necessary? We might need it later.”
That couple’s parents wonder, “Will our retirement account die before us?” They pray for guidance and yet, the Sower seems to be sleeping in the stern of the boat. He seems assured that the seed once planted will bear fruit. The elderly couple longs for some assurance.
Out on the sea, as we move through our lives, we experience a hiccup in our career, or in our marriage, or in our faith, and we wonder, “Is Christ asleep in the back of the boat? Jesus, can we get a little guidance here, if You’re not too busy?”
Or we wonder, “Has God forgotten me in my sorrow—in my loneliness, in my bewilderment? Does God not realize that I’m floundering?”
Christ sleeps in the back of our boat while our craft is about to sink, or so we think. We dare not sleep along side of Him. We need action. Must we wait for Him to act? The seed (of faith) hasn’t (yet) turned to harvest; the sower is asleep at the switch.
And yet, when awakened, our Lord asks, “What are you worried about?”
For the disciples of old, the miracles of Jesus appear to supply them with faith. But again, might things be reversed? Might miracles instead be God’s response to faith? Or, might Christ be leading us onward to a faith that trusts even when there is no miracle.
I posit that the parables and miracles of Jesus are intricately connected, each shedding light on the other. While miracles can undoubtedly bolster our faith, true faith is not dependent on their occurrence. The parable of the growing seed teaches us the importance of patience and trust in God’s timing, even when He seems absent or unresponsive.
As we navigate the storms of life, let us remember that God’s ways are not always our ways, and His actions may not align with our expectations. Yet, we are called to have faith—a deep, abiding trust in His love, presence, and ultimate plan for our lives.
Miracles, though possible, are not guaranteed. Our faith must be rooted in something deeper: the assurance that God is with us, even when we cannot see or feel His presence. Like the disciples in the boat, we may be tempted to fear and doubt, but Christ calls us to a higher standard of faith.
So let us cling to the promise that the seed of faith, once planted, will grow and flourish in due time. May we find comfort in the knowledge that our Savior is with us always, even when He seems to be sleeping in the stern of the boat. For in the end, it is not the absence or presence of miracles that defines our faith, but our unwavering trust in the One who calms the wind and the waves with a single word.
Very thoughtful, Tom. I forwarded it to a bunch of folks who are presently shouting at the guy in the stern….
Ah, Bill. Great to hear from you. I’m pleased that you liked it. Take care.
Yes, thank you, Tom. It calls to mind for me also the principle in Judaism that it is not right for people to require a miracle of God–to pray for one, yes, but to demand one, no–on the principle of Deut 6:16, “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.”
Chris, excellent point about Deuteronomy’s “Don’t test God.” Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Tom. I still regard our study group every Wednesday morning very valuable to me at this time in my life. So thankful for the Technology available to Us so we can meet online, which is so wonderful at this time as we age. Thank you again for your time and your willingness to share. Praying for our group every day. Catch up with you next Wednesday. Be safe, my love To Jane.
Thanks, June. Wednesdays and Sundays are my two favorite days of the week. Our almost 8 years of Bible study have been a real highlight for me. You’re a vital part of that discussion. Take care. Jane sends her love.
Tom
Tom,
Thank you for this week’s message; you have added so much richness to this passage, which was the beginning of my faith journey. The minister at First Presbyterian Church of Laurinburg, the Rev. Robin Debnam, provided me with this passage when I expressed the feebleness of my faith at the time of my pre-marriage counseling session back in 1983. Thanks be to God!
Thanks, Ralph. I can certainly see why this passage would have been chosen. It has multiple layers of nuance. It’s marvelous how passages of scripture speak to us on multiple levels, within multiple contexts, and at multiple moments in our lives. Take care. The four of us need to plan a dinner soon.