When the World Is Fraying at the Edges

Have you read recently the story in Mark 4 of the disciples and Jesus being caught in a storm?

I’ve been thinking of it repeatedly over the past few weeks as I try to find words for what is swirling inside and around.

Rembrandt’s Sea of Galilee captures the terror of that moment, overlayed with the absolute serenity of Christ as he slumbers. This is probably why someone stole this particular painting in 1990, refusing to give it back.

It is a stunning encapsulation of Life.

How often are we caught in, or just coming out of, a raging storm of sickness, death, disability, loss of work, loneliness, depression, relationship fall-outs, or political turmoil, desperately wondering why Christ won’t stir Himself to come to our aid?

In the painting, you can feel the panic as the disciples strain against the ropes, their boat precariously balanced atop a white capped wave. The angry sea spray mingles with their own frustration and fear.

Jesus himself had suggested this trip.

As the Son of God, how did he not know a storm was brewing that would make it impossible for them to “cross over to the other side?” He should have been the ultimate weather app!

We can only conclude one of two things: either Jesus could not foresee the coming storm, or He knew it was coming and suggested His disciples get in the boat anyway.

Jesus, as the Son of God, is all-knowing. You don’t qualify for deity if you know almost everything. That’s called a Mom. He knew this storm was coming.

Paul points out in his first letter to the Corinthians that the world was also made through Jesus, which includes the elements involved in the weather patterns.

Yet Jesus still suggests the trip across the lake, then audaciously falls asleep? How is that a good God? Where is the kindness we’ve come to expect from one who tells us that His yoke is easy and His burden light? Slumbering in the bottom of a boat while your creation wreaks havoc on the peace and security of your disciples does not seem very light and easy.

Nowhere in Scripture do I find evidence that God gives directives to frustrate. It’s possible some smaller god would be so petty. From Genesis to Revelation, the Lord asks, commands, and suggests for a sovereign holy purpose. As He draws us toward His will, molding our character to reflect Christ’s, the strands of His-Story are being woven to create a stunning tapestry through the centuries.

The frustration comes from rarely having the distance or perspective to understand the full picture this side of Heaven.

That singing almost-nun Maria von Trapp said it well,

“It will be very interesting one day to follow the pattern of our life as it is spread out like a beautiful tapestry. As long as we live here, we see only the reverse side of the weaving, and very often the pattern, with its threads running wildly, doesn’t seem to make sense. Some day, however, we shall understand.

In looking back over the years we can discover how a red thread goes through the pattern of our life: the Will of God.”

My own life testifies to this. The deep valleys of poverty, losing children, or near-breaking marriage difficulties have been unexpected and very much undesired storms.

Repeatedly, I present carefully color-coded plans, and the Lord, every so graciously, throws them out the window, driving off in a vastly different direction.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of how these supposed detours have lovingly led me from the life I want to the one I need; the life that has softened, seasoned, and deepened me and my faith. Given the choice at the front end, I would have picked exactly *zero* of the valleys and redirects.

But now, on the other side, I am grateful. Oh, so very grateful for the kindness of our God to love me enough to draw me into a deeper relationship with Him. No matter how much the storm or I rage, He stays and whispers to my soul, “Peace. Be still.”

Every storm has a purpose. Even the really horrible ones, like a young father being assassinated in front of hundreds of college students, the child growing up in an abusive and neglectful home, or the young mother leaving behind her children as cancer steals her breath.

Every storm can be used for good if: Christ is in the boat and we choose to bend towards Him, rather than break in bitterness.

Thankfully, Mark does not leave us in his gospel with the storm. And neither does Christ. After being awakened, we learn in Mark 5 that Christ “gently rebuked” the storm. The storm that raged around the boat, yes. But also the one raging in the souls of the disciples, calling into question whether Christ loved them, whether Christ was actually enough.

“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Gulp.

With the waters calm once again, the disciples try to catch their breath and take stock of where they’ve ended up, spiritually and physically. Their minds are reeling at what they’ve just witnessed, but they will have to process that later.

They’ve taken a literal left-turn towards the left bank of the lake, in the Gersenes region, and boy, are they in for a surprise.

When they drag their battered boat and storm-weary bodies to shore, they are welcomed by a raving lunatic whose only apparel seems to be some handcuffs. Lest you think this is a First Century write-up of Fifty Shades of Gray, it’s an exorcism begging to happen. A thousand times over.

This is where my jaw drops, and maybe yours as well. In His great love, Jesus had asked them to get into the boat for the good it would do to their own faith, and for a man possessed by demons, desperate for a miracle.

That storm never figured into their plans, but it put them exactly where Jesus had always planned to go.

Perhaps he knew that none of his disciples would be eager to meet a man possessed by a legion of demons after a long day of ministering to others. Maybe he knew their emotional capacity was already running thin, tenuously thin for a city that would turn them away.

When we look at the sum of our lives to this point, we may be tempted to see it as a series of missed opportunities, left turns into obscurity, and storms that threw us off the very good and well-intentioned plan we had mapped for our lives.

Or can we see that the dreams God placed in our hearts may have been to simply get us in the boat, so he could nudge us a little further than what we would have thought possible?

But not just for us.

He nudges us into the boat and through the storm because of the people on the other side waiting for Hope. Hope that comes through our Stories, evidence of the faithfulness, the kindness, the patience, and the goodness of a God who creates and calms storms.

Praying peace and courage in whatever storm rages around you-

Jo x

P.S. If you made it this far, you get this bonus picture to inspire you. You’re welcome.