A Gospel Gleaning -- Mark 4:35-41

In the dark of the midnight, have I oft hid my face;
While the storm howled above me, there was no hiding place.
Amidst the crash of the thunder, Precious Lord, hear my cry;
Keep me safe til the storm passes by.

Til the storm passes over,
Til the thunder sounds no more;
Til the clouds roll forever from the sky;
Hold me fast, let me stand
In the hollow of thy hand.
Keep me safe til the storm passes by.

I grew up listening to the lyrics to this classic Southern Gospel song -- often sung with the sort of grit and determination that is forged in the hardships of life. Over the years I heard people sing this song as they dealt with the loss of a child, the loss of a parent, the loss of a relationship, the loss of a job or upon the receipt of some particularly difficult news about the singer's own health. I heard men sing it. I heard women sing it. I heard teenagers sing it. I heard it sung solo and in groups. I heard people belt it out in anger and I heard people squeak it out in grief.

When I read the disciples' fear-filled question in this week's Gospel story, "Master, don't you care that we are perishing?", I can't help but remember the 20th century disciples of my childhood church as they sung their faith and their fear and implored God to "keep them safe" until their particular storm had passed.

All these years later, now that my own faith has been stretched by the living of life, I read this story from Mark with a different set of eyes. I wonder if Jesus' command was primarily addressed, not to the storm, but to the anxious disciples? In the grip of their fear, they couldn't think clearly. They couldn't see clearly. They couldn't respond to the situation around them appropriately. They were paralyzed. All they could do was fixate on their impending demise. They forgot who they had in the boat with them.

"Peace, be still!" Jesus barks out over the howl of the wind and the crash of the waves. The disciples hear these words and remember they are following One who speaks with authority. The storm overhears Jesus' words and evaporates into thin air.

We are given no guarantees in life. Walking the way of Jesus isn't an insurance policy against tragedy or troubles or pain. The winds of distress will whip us about. The thunder of loss will shake us to our core. The waves of grief will at times innundate us. But our faith isn't dependent upon smooth sailing -- rather it is fixed upon the One who speaks in such a way that "even the wind and seas obey him."

When the long night has ended, and the storm comes no more;
May I stand in thy presence on that Bright and Peaceful Shore.
In a land where the tempest never comes, Lord, may I
Dwell with thee when the storm passes by!