Jonah 1:1-17; Romans 8:18-23; St Matthew 8:23-27
In the Name + of JESUS. Amen.
The sea is a treacherous and deadly place. Chaotic and unpredictable, at one moment calm and beautiful, the next moment a storm whips up and the waves threaten to drown us. Once filled with monsters such as Leviathan, that twisting serpent, that great dragon that was in the sea (Is 27:1); and, though freely transnavigable, the sea continues to represent tremendous danger and uncertainty. The sea represents the primordial fear of the unknown. Even experienced divers, rescue or otherwise, know to respect a healthy fear of the sea.
And the disciples were experienced seamen. Many of them had spent their lives on the Sea of Galilee learning the family fishing business. Navigating those deep waters, seeking out the best area to cast the net. Spending the night and making their living on the Sea. It was really a lake. Thirteen miles long and eight miles wide. But it was called a “sea” precisely because of its unpredictable and tumultuous storms like this one. St Matthew calls it a σεισμοσ μεγασ - a mega, earthquake-like squall. And a storm that can swamp a sea worthy boat can drown everyone in it.
But Jesus was asleep! For though He is true God, He is also true Man. And in His divinity He shares in everything in His humanity. He gets tired. He sleeps. He was exhausted from the throng of people crowding around Him as He healed lepers and centurions’ servants. He went out to the lake for some peace and quiet. He retreated from the crowd and into the boat in order to rest. And He is unaffected by the storm and its danger.
But the disciples were afraid. They were terrified. They wake Him and pray, Lord, save us! We are perishing! Don’t you care? St Mark adds.
What about you? Does it seem as if Jesus doesn’t care that you are perishing? Drowning in debt? Swimming in temptation and sin? So inherent in our nature is this fear of the sea, of the chaotic unknown, of hapless drowning, that we have adapted the terminology to our more everyday, landlocked lives. How’s it going? we’re asked. The response: I’m barely keeping my head above water. I’m treading water. I’m bailing out as fast as I can, but I feel like I’m drowning. Staying afloat. I’m swamped.
We are terrified to navigate our lives. We fear the unknown. The chaotic and unpredictable. And in the midst of it all, when our little boat seems as though its going to capsize, where is Jesus? Asleep in the stern! Or at least that’s how we feel.
But you can’t go through life trusting in your feelings. They lie to you. A faith that trusts in its feelings is a false faith.
Judging from their feelings, from their senses, what they could see, the disciples thought they were going to drown. So in the terror evoked from their senses, they cried out to the Lord in weak faith, but faith nonetheless, Lord, save us! We are perishing! They do as the Second Commandment instructs: to call upon the Name of the Lord in every trouble. But they do not keep the commandment whole and undefiled. They do not truly fear, love, and trust in God above all things.
And neither do you. Indeed you call upon the Name of the Lord in your trouble, in your desperation, in your flood of panic. But is it because you fear, love, and trust in Him above all things? Or is it because you have no other options, nowhere else to turn? You’ve tried everything else. Where your heart turns first for hope, for trust and assurance, that is your god. And if it is not the true God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - repent. Return to the Lord your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love; and He relents over disaster (Joel 2:13).
Jesus chided His disciples in love. Not in anger or impatience. He is love. He gently criticized them for having so weak a faith. Why are you afraid, O little faiths? They were of little faith, not of no faith. But little, weak faith. A faith overwhelmed by fear from what they could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel.
And though their feelings deceived them and they were overwhelmed, the essence of faith remained. So it is for you. For their prayer is your prayer: Lord Jesus, save us! We are perishing! That is the prayer of faith that looks to Jesus, the Author and Perfector of faith, the Fountain and Source of saving faith; a hope built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
Jesus’ calmness and assurance, His unwavering trust stands in marked contrast to the disciples’ fear and helplessness. He rebuked the wind and the sea. Scolded them like a small puppy that had just peed on the floor. Jesus is Lord over all the natural world, over all creation. He is the One who subjected creation to the futility of the seasons, to life and death, to thorns and thistles, crop failure and tempests. He subjected all creation in hope, that even creation itself would be set free from its bondage to corruption cause by Adam’s sin, which is yours.
But with His Word Jesus silenced the roar of the sea and the waves. St Matthew says there was a γαληνη μεγαλη a great calm; in contrast to the great storm. As you sang in the Introit: He made the storm to be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Or another psalm, He set the earth on its foundations, so that it should never be moved. You covered it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains. At Your rebuke the fled; at the sound of Your thunder they took flight (Ps 104:5-7). That same psalm goes on to say, Here is the sea, great and wide, which teems with creatures innumerable, living things both small and great. There go the ships, and Leviathan, which you formed to play in it (104:25-26).
Throughout the Old Testament and the New the sea is depicted as the abode of the Devil. Leviathan itself as the personification of evil, of that which is opposed to the Lord Himself. Our Lord challenges Job, Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook or press down his tongue with a cord? (Job 41:1). You can no more overcome the devil and all his works and all his ways any more than you can tame the sea and the wind.
But Christ Jesus can. And He does. He has. What sort of Man is this, that even winds and sea obey Him? He is the GodMan, who has come to be your Jonah. He was hurled into the raging sea of the Father’s anger and fury over your sin. He was drown in the flood of your guilt and shame, though His life was innocent. And He was three days and three night in the belly of the earth, even as Jonah was three days and three night in the belly of the great fish. And as Jonah was vomited out alive onto dry land, so to our Lord Jesus was raised from the dead, released from the grave for it had bitten off more than it could chew.
The Lord may play with Leviathan, He may use the devil as His own, but in the end He puts His heal down atop the head of that dastardly serpent. He muzzles the accusations of His laying tongue with the scarlet cord of His own precious blood and innocent suffering and death.
Leviathan, the devil, cannot have you. The sea of sufferings of this present time cannot drown you. For belong to Christ. You are already drown in His Holy Baptism. Jesus put Himself into Baptism so that when you go into the water you pull up Christ with you. Or rather, He pulls you up with Him, bringing you out of death’s gullet and onto the easterly shore of His resurrection.
For here you sit, beloved, in the Nave of His Church. Nave. As in Navy. Ship. The Church has long been depicted as a boat, an ark, that ferries you across the raging flood of death. Even the architecture preaches this. But in a backward way, I’ve thought. For the nave of the church looks like a boat, but a capsized boat. That is how it appears in this life. The Church is always storm tossed and battered, seeming to run aground and broken on the shores of the culture and the world.
The disciples followed Jesus into the boat. That’s what happens. You follow Jesus into the Ark of His Church, look to Him in faith and trust, and the devil is going to rage against you in a sea of trouble. But where is Christ? He is there, at the Helm. Your Captain and Anchor in the storm. He is your Solid Rock. Stand upon Him. You have the first fruits of the Spirit as you groan inwardly as you await eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of your bodies.
He who calms the storms and troubles of your life, who holds for you in every high and stormy gale, shall indeed tow you unto the safe harbor on the other side of this plane, to the beautiful and pristine shores of His eternal kingdom where you shall enjoy the freedom of the glory of the children of God. Do not fear, O little faiths, the Lord is with thee.
In the Name of the Father and + of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
In the Name + of JESUS. Amen.
The sea is a treacherous and deadly place. Chaotic and unpredictable, at one moment calm and beautiful, the next moment a storm whips up and the waves threaten to drown us. Once filled with monsters such as Leviathan, that twisting serpent, that great dragon that was in the sea (Is 27:1); and, though freely transnavigable, the sea continues to represent tremendous danger and uncertainty. The sea represents the primordial fear of the unknown. Even experienced divers, rescue or otherwise, know to respect a healthy fear of the sea.
And the disciples were experienced seamen. Many of them had spent their lives on the Sea of Galilee learning the family fishing business. Navigating those deep waters, seeking out the best area to cast the net. Spending the night and making their living on the Sea. It was really a lake. Thirteen miles long and eight miles wide. But it was called a “sea” precisely because of its unpredictable and tumultuous storms like this one. St Matthew calls it a σεισμοσ μεγασ - a mega, earthquake-like squall. And a storm that can swamp a sea worthy boat can drown everyone in it.
But Jesus was asleep! For though He is true God, He is also true Man. And in His divinity He shares in everything in His humanity. He gets tired. He sleeps. He was exhausted from the throng of people crowding around Him as He healed lepers and centurions’ servants. He went out to the lake for some peace and quiet. He retreated from the crowd and into the boat in order to rest. And He is unaffected by the storm and its danger.
But the disciples were afraid. They were terrified. They wake Him and pray, Lord, save us! We are perishing! Don’t you care? St Mark adds.
What about you? Does it seem as if Jesus doesn’t care that you are perishing? Drowning in debt? Swimming in temptation and sin? So inherent in our nature is this fear of the sea, of the chaotic unknown, of hapless drowning, that we have adapted the terminology to our more everyday, landlocked lives. How’s it going? we’re asked. The response: I’m barely keeping my head above water. I’m treading water. I’m bailing out as fast as I can, but I feel like I’m drowning. Staying afloat. I’m swamped.
We are terrified to navigate our lives. We fear the unknown. The chaotic and unpredictable. And in the midst of it all, when our little boat seems as though its going to capsize, where is Jesus? Asleep in the stern! Or at least that’s how we feel.
But you can’t go through life trusting in your feelings. They lie to you. A faith that trusts in its feelings is a false faith.
Judging from their feelings, from their senses, what they could see, the disciples thought they were going to drown. So in the terror evoked from their senses, they cried out to the Lord in weak faith, but faith nonetheless, Lord, save us! We are perishing! They do as the Second Commandment instructs: to call upon the Name of the Lord in every trouble. But they do not keep the commandment whole and undefiled. They do not truly fear, love, and trust in God above all things.
And neither do you. Indeed you call upon the Name of the Lord in your trouble, in your desperation, in your flood of panic. But is it because you fear, love, and trust in Him above all things? Or is it because you have no other options, nowhere else to turn? You’ve tried everything else. Where your heart turns first for hope, for trust and assurance, that is your god. And if it is not the true God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - repent. Return to the Lord your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love; and He relents over disaster (Joel 2:13).
Jesus chided His disciples in love. Not in anger or impatience. He is love. He gently criticized them for having so weak a faith. Why are you afraid, O little faiths? They were of little faith, not of no faith. But little, weak faith. A faith overwhelmed by fear from what they could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel.
And though their feelings deceived them and they were overwhelmed, the essence of faith remained. So it is for you. For their prayer is your prayer: Lord Jesus, save us! We are perishing! That is the prayer of faith that looks to Jesus, the Author and Perfector of faith, the Fountain and Source of saving faith; a hope built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
Jesus’ calmness and assurance, His unwavering trust stands in marked contrast to the disciples’ fear and helplessness. He rebuked the wind and the sea. Scolded them like a small puppy that had just peed on the floor. Jesus is Lord over all the natural world, over all creation. He is the One who subjected creation to the futility of the seasons, to life and death, to thorns and thistles, crop failure and tempests. He subjected all creation in hope, that even creation itself would be set free from its bondage to corruption cause by Adam’s sin, which is yours.
But with His Word Jesus silenced the roar of the sea and the waves. St Matthew says there was a γαληνη μεγαλη a great calm; in contrast to the great storm. As you sang in the Introit: He made the storm to be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Or another psalm, He set the earth on its foundations, so that it should never be moved. You covered it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains. At Your rebuke the fled; at the sound of Your thunder they took flight (Ps 104:5-7). That same psalm goes on to say, Here is the sea, great and wide, which teems with creatures innumerable, living things both small and great. There go the ships, and Leviathan, which you formed to play in it (104:25-26).
Throughout the Old Testament and the New the sea is depicted as the abode of the Devil. Leviathan itself as the personification of evil, of that which is opposed to the Lord Himself. Our Lord challenges Job, Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook or press down his tongue with a cord? (Job 41:1). You can no more overcome the devil and all his works and all his ways any more than you can tame the sea and the wind.
But Christ Jesus can. And He does. He has. What sort of Man is this, that even winds and sea obey Him? He is the GodMan, who has come to be your Jonah. He was hurled into the raging sea of the Father’s anger and fury over your sin. He was drown in the flood of your guilt and shame, though His life was innocent. And He was three days and three night in the belly of the earth, even as Jonah was three days and three night in the belly of the great fish. And as Jonah was vomited out alive onto dry land, so to our Lord Jesus was raised from the dead, released from the grave for it had bitten off more than it could chew.
The Lord may play with Leviathan, He may use the devil as His own, but in the end He puts His heal down atop the head of that dastardly serpent. He muzzles the accusations of His laying tongue with the scarlet cord of His own precious blood and innocent suffering and death.
Leviathan, the devil, cannot have you. The sea of sufferings of this present time cannot drown you. For belong to Christ. You are already drown in His Holy Baptism. Jesus put Himself into Baptism so that when you go into the water you pull up Christ with you. Or rather, He pulls you up with Him, bringing you out of death’s gullet and onto the easterly shore of His resurrection.
For here you sit, beloved, in the Nave of His Church. Nave. As in Navy. Ship. The Church has long been depicted as a boat, an ark, that ferries you across the raging flood of death. Even the architecture preaches this. But in a backward way, I’ve thought. For the nave of the church looks like a boat, but a capsized boat. That is how it appears in this life. The Church is always storm tossed and battered, seeming to run aground and broken on the shores of the culture and the world.
The disciples followed Jesus into the boat. That’s what happens. You follow Jesus into the Ark of His Church, look to Him in faith and trust, and the devil is going to rage against you in a sea of trouble. But where is Christ? He is there, at the Helm. Your Captain and Anchor in the storm. He is your Solid Rock. Stand upon Him. You have the first fruits of the Spirit as you groan inwardly as you await eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of your bodies.
He who calms the storms and troubles of your life, who holds for you in every high and stormy gale, shall indeed tow you unto the safe harbor on the other side of this plane, to the beautiful and pristine shores of His eternal kingdom where you shall enjoy the freedom of the glory of the children of God. Do not fear, O little faiths, the Lord is with thee.
In the Name of the Father and + of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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