Pentecost 4
June 21, 2015
A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the
boat was already being swamped.
--Mark 4:37
When I was a child, I was terrified of storms. I’m
not talking about your run-of-the-mill childhood storm anxiety. I’m talking about full-blown terror. I didn’t even like going outside to play on windy
days! God played a tremendous practical
joke on me by sending me to minister on the Great Plains, and to Oklahoma in
particular. Something about confronting
your fears? Like most children, my
storm anxiety lessened when my parents were around. Something about their calm demeanor in the
face of the storm calmed me down a great deal.
With them, I felt safe. Looking
back, I realize there’s no logic in that – they were as powerless before the
storm as I was!
As an adult, I have lost most of my storm anxiety. Well, except for lightning. It still terrifies me (unless I’m inside,
then I think it is beautiful). But, in
our adult lives, storms come in all shapes and sizes. In addition to sever weather (which can
happen anywhere, not just Oklahoma), there are also storms of ill health,
family crises, broken relationships, financial disasters, violence, crime,
tragedies and a million other things that can threaten to overwhelm us with
their power. Many of these things can be
more subtle and even more terrifying than an F5 tornado. Like
the tornadic winds on the prairie, the storms that rage around our lives leave
us feeling out-of-control, vulnerable, and alone. They can produce anxiety and fear that is so
intense it can paralyze us. They leave
us yearning for someone to walk with us, and assure us that we are not alone in
facing the storms and their damaging winds.
Sometimes, when the storms are raging, we can identify with
the disciples’ irritation that Jesus is sound asleep while they are being
overwhelmed by panic and fear and the crashing waves. Maybe we share a twinge of guilt when Jesus
asks them where their faith has gone. We
wouldn’t mind sharing their wonder and awe when, with a word, Jesus calms the
storm. A little storm-calming wouldn’t
hurt once in a while, would it?
Over the years, I have discovered that Jesus’ storm-calming
presence rarely comes in the dramatic show-stopping way that it does in this
week’s Gospel Lesson. But still, it
comes. It comes more like the reassuring
presence of my parents surrounding me in their bed in the midst of the
terrifying window rattling thunder of my boyhood. It comes in moments of quiet meditation and
prayer, and in the presence of the community of faith – the “Body of Christ” –
in worship, in word and in sacrament. It
comes in the form of a friend -- a brother or sister in Christ -- who listens
to me and reminds me of Immanuel -- God
with us.
Peace,
Bishop Mike
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