A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Give thanks to the Lord,
For his mercy endures forever.

Many years ago, I sailed in a regatta on Old Hickory Lake with my great uncle, O.L. Uncle O.L. was a fantastic sailor and was known at Harbour Island Yacht Club, right there in Wilson County, Tenn., where he docked his boat, The Respite, as a resident expert on just about everything.

Growing up I spent many hours on The Respite, but I never really learned to sail. I have no idea why O.L. asked me to crew for him. But he did and I went. It was early spring, and the weather was not warm, in fact it was cold and stormy. Up until that point, I’d been sent down into the cabin during a storm. But this time I was in the cockpit and expected to follow instructions, quickly. And this was not a small storm. We had little visibility once the boats departed from the marina. And the wind kicked in with ferocity. It was a surprise to me that the small lake could be that choppy with whitecaps that looked more like the ocean than little Old Hickory. At many points we were sailing with our gunnels in the water, meaning the boat was keeled so far over that one side of boat was down in the water so we were basically standing on the water. It gave new meaning to walking on water to me for sure. O.L. remained calm; I definitely did not. I don’t remember how we placed in that race; I was simply thankful to get back to harbor.

Jesus and the disciples in today’s Gospel are caught up a bad storm as they were headed across the Sea of Galilee. As the wind and water grew, Jesus serenely slumbered at the stern of the boat. I love the specificity Mark includes – Jesus even had a pillow back there. Eventually the disciples, some of whom had to be experienced fisherman and presumably might have weathered a storm like this before, rouse Jesus from his sleep.

Don’t you care about us? Don’t you care that we are about to drown?

Jesus, with just a few words, calms the storm “Peace! Be still!”

Then Jesus looks at the disciples and asks, “Why are you afraid?”

I think it’s important to note that Jesus does not tell them there is nothing to be afraid of. He asks them why it is that they are afraid.

Not a one of us is immune from experiencing fear.

You all may have heard me describe my well-honed talent of catastrophizing. Catastrophizing is like fear who has had 10 cups of coffee. I can at warp speed come up with the most horrific, disastrous outcomes to just about any situation. It’s part of how I manage fear in my life. It’s my attempt to assert control over a situation I have no control over, and instead of looking for an ending filled with hope, I summon the depths of despair. Is this healthy? Absolutely not. Why do I do this? I have no good answer.

However, fear is not an unreasonable reaction to many things in this life. There is a healthy role for fear. Fear can keep us from going astray and keep us safe from danger. Ask any parent of an active toddler if they wished their child had even an inkling of fear most days.

But fear when it gets catastrophized, fear when it becomes a Goliath in our lives, fear that morphs into anxiety is brutal. This kind of fear can keep us from remembering God’s abundant grace. Paul warned us about accepting God’s grace in vain, warned us to be ever mindful of the grace that is the foundation of our lives. Fear and anxiety are part of our human condition, and many of us suffer mightily from this and need the help of medication and therapy to address it.

The disciples had every reason to be afraid in that boat, and right in that boat the disciples were in the presence of a balm for their fear: Jesus. But in their fear, they only saw him asleep, not caring.

After Jesus asks the disciples what they are afraid of he asks another question.

Have you still no faith?
This is also translated elsewhere as “Don’t you have faith yet?” [Common English Bible]

Part of me wants to spring to the defense of the disciples. We are just in chapter 4 of the Gospel. Jesus has done some miraculous healings and teaching by this point. But how are they to understand at this point? How are they to have faith just yet? How are we to have such faith, just yet?

Frederick Buechner says of faith…
Faith is a way of waiting—never quite knowing, never quite hearing or seeing, because in the darkness we are all but a little lost. There is doubt hard on the heels of every belief, fear hard on the heels of every hope …

Lots of our fears come during the wait. The wait for the phone call back after the fight. The wait for the answer that you’ve got the job. The wait for a response when you first tell someone you love them. The wait for the test results.

In our Old Testament reading today we find Job who has been waiting it out for a long time by the point this passage comes in his story. He has waited on the Lord through many horrific things, the loss of his home and flocks, the death of all his children, and the infliction of boils that he scratches at with a shard of pottery in his misery. And in today’s passage after Job has begged for answers to his questions, begged for understanding, asking the LORD Don’t you care about me? the LORD eventually answers him. The Lord answers him in whirlwind, in a storm.

And the Lord says to Job, “you have questions for me? Well, I have some for you.”

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Did you make the measurements? Did you lay the cornerstone or place the boundaries of the waters?

God’s questioning of Job goes on and on as the scripture continues. Do you make the sun rise? Do you know where the snow is stored? Can you number the clouds?

Each question reminding Job of the omnipotence of God, of the presence of God in every bit of creation, every bit of land and sky and sea, every bit of the stars and galaxies above us. God present with each of us, in every cell in our bodies, in the air we draw in and out to sustain us. Each question pointing Job to see the abundance of God’s grace, grace upon grace.

God, after Job has endured so much, answers with questions that point to the truth that Job was never alone. Job was not alone in his previous prosperity, and he was not alone in his despair. God was there with him.

We are not alone in the boat, we are not alone when all seems lost, we are not alone when our human hearts catastrophize during the wait, we are not alone when the worst thing that could happen does.

The grace of God, the grace of the gift of Jesus, these things are never changing. As sure as the foundations of the earth, as sure as the one who can calm the sea.

My uncle O.L. died in 2012 after a good long sail in this life. In 2014, Harbour Island Yacht Club hosted the first O.L. Shultz, a race in his honor to raise funds for the hospice group who cared for him in his last days. It’s a race that runs in the early spring, an often-stormy time of year there.

The motto of the race is, “We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails.”

May we all continually adjust our sails to be filled with the assurance of God’s grace, which is far beyond our understanding, knowing we are all being brought home to the harbor we are bound for.

Give thanks to the Lord,
For his mercy endures forever.

Amelia McDaniel