Sunday, June 28, 2009

Reflection on Mark 4:35-41

The boat is being tossed and turned as it ventures toward the foreign territory of the gentiles. Water is filling the boat from all sides (from above: the rain, from below: the sea), and Jesus is right where we expect him to be, standing at the bow of the boat with arms outstretched, powerfully directing the boat through the storm…creating a part in the sea as Moses did when he stood with arms outstretched and parted the sea, allowing people to cross of dry land…we expect to see Jesus, with arms outstretched, creating a safe zone for the tiny boat.

That is where we expect to see Jesus anyway. Expectations fall a little short in real life though. Maybe we should lower our standards a little. How about Jesus sitting, directing the boat into calm waters using his pinky? No? How about Jesus on the cell phone, texting God the Father for a little help? No? How about Jesus with a bucket? Wrong again. The disciples are about to be destroyed, and Jesus is in the back of the boat taking his beauty rest.

“Don’t you care that we are in the very real process of being destroyed, wave by crashing wave, smashed board by precious board? Don’t you care Jesus, don’t you care?” the disciples scream at the man lounging in the rear.

This question is not an honest question of course. The disciples are not expecting any answer other than “of course, I care, where’s my bucket, sorry I was asleep.” This is a question to manipulate…to get your own way. When a three year old asks, “Papa, I’m hungry, don’t you care?” they really do not expect to hear, “You’re three now, fix your own darn meal!” You do not expect that.

As an aside, the hunger question is not a question you would ask your brother, “Bro, fix me something, don’t you care that I’m hungry?”

“You know what Jira…I couldn’t care less.”

Back to the disciple's question, it is not an honest question. The only answer that Jesus is supposed to provide is, “of course, I care deeply. I am sorry that I sent you on this crazy voyage to a foreign, gentile filled land. It is obvious, now that I see the storm, that God does not want us to go. Let’s get the boat turned around and head home.”

This answer is a good one. It gets us back home. It puts us in our soft beds with a good book in our hands and a good meal in our stomach. It is a safe answer. We love safe answers.

“What’s for supper?”
“Tacos,” that is a safe answer.

“What’s for supper?”
“Hazelnut Pilaf with a green pea masala,” not a safe answer.

“Where are we going Jesus?”
“Back to your hometown to worship,” safe answer.

“Where are we going Jesus?”
“Over to the other side of the lake, to the godless foreign people, to bring them the good news,” not a safe answer.

You see, the honest question is not, “Lord, don’t you care?” We know the answer to that one. Jesus will not remain asleep in the back of the boat. He will wake up. He will be present in our struggles. We know that. The honest question is, “this is really tough, do I have to do it?”

I wonder if the apostle Paul, as he was being stoned and thrown into a prison cell ever asked, “Jesus, this is really tough, do I have to do it?”

I wonder if Martin Luther King Jr., as he read death threats and sat in his Birmingham cell ever wondered, “Jesus, this is really tough, do I have to do it?”

I wonder if Jesus, while he sat in the garden of Gethsemane waiting to be taken to the cross was truly asking, “Father, this is really tough, do I have to do it?”

This question is not answered explicitly. It is never stated, “Yes, you have to.” I think this is because we know the answer before we even ask the question. It is tough going. The trip is fearful and sometimes painful. It is not the comfort of our own bed. Rather, it is setting us loose in a dark basement, our only guide being the words, "Go to the other side."

Speaking of honesty though, the entire venture is not rising water, dark storms, and broken ships. There are the moments when we hear the smooth words, “Peace, be still,” ringing over the waters. There are moments where we can see that the struggle will be worth it in the end.

God is up to something good. There are moments when we see the sick healed, the lost found, the angry reunited, and the broken being put back together. There are moments when we hear the voice of Jesus crying out, “Peace, be still,” and it calms the storm. There are those moments of grace and those moments are enough to keep us headed to the other side. They are enough.

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