Sleeping in the Boat

There’s a story told in Matthew 8, Mark 4, and Luke 8 about Jesus sleeping in the boat as a storm thrashed at the gunnels.

Seasoned fishermen—which many of the disciples were—wouldn’t have balked at rough seas. They knew how to stabilize their footing at the same time they either cast or drew in their nets. Their terror of the waves came from great experience with windy weather. This storm, they recognized, had the power to capsize a boat—especially one that was slowly filling with water.

How could Jesus, so attuned to the God who ruled the seas, not be alert to the danger they faced?

They shook him, screaming, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!”

Jesus rose and gave the wind a good talking to. Then he turned to the waves and said, “Peace, y’all. Be still!” In the calm that followed, he turned wearily toward his disciples. “Boys, where is your faith?”

Here’s the question: what kind of faith was he expecting from them?

Was he disappointed the disciples didn’t tell the tempest to settle down themselves? After all, he’d given them some training in using authority.

Or was he disheartened they’d let the storm worry them in the first place?

Their fears were based in reality—they’d been through storms and history told them this was a doozy. What they failed to take into account was Jesus’ absolute certainty that his next assignment lay on the other shore.

Jesus didn’t seem to care about the weather’s distractions because God had called him to cross over. The winds might blow, but his aim was fixed over there–where a man was suffering under a tempest created by a legion of demons. Jesus had these few moments during the passage to rest. And here were the disciples wasting their adrenaline on a fight he hadn’t asked them to wage.

I wish I’d thought of this when I was moving to a new state. Our little Toyota station wagon was the storm-tossed boat I was driving from New Mexico to Oregon. My husband had gone ahead to our promised land to secure a new job for him and a new home for us.

I was following—sole skipper at the helm, with our two young children and a dog as passengers. It was a four-day voyage and Bill had the route mapped out with port stops reserved at hotels along the way. All I had to do was drive.

And then the wind began to blow.

The first day, our “boat” decided the only gear it liked was reverse. I cudgeled it forward anyhow until I could tack my way to a garage. In a few hours, we were off again—late, but moving ahead. The next day I woke up to a warning light on the dash and on we lurched to another mechanic. The late starts strained my already tight nerves. We were supposed to pull into port early each day, so I’d have time to de-frazzle before bed. But that wasn’t going to happen.

As we set off on the third day, the waters rose in sync with my engine’s temperature gauge. The hills rolled like golden waves and, as our little craft scaled each one, the gauge went to red. I tried coasting on the downward slopes, hoping to give the poor thing a rest. Whether it helped or not, I don’t know, but ours seemed to be the only vessel crossing the lonely countryside that day.

I fussed and worried about what I’d do if our dinghy wore out and we had to pull over in the 90-plus-degree conditions. Jesus seemed to be fast asleep in the back of my boat, while the wind and the waves were lashing about unrestrained.

I prayed silently (lest the children hear me). Desperately. I fisted Jesus’ robe in the clenched fingers holding the steering wheel. I tried shaking him awake. “Lord, save us!” I cried in my heart, “We’re perishing!”

Did he look at me the way he did at the disciples–wondering why I was fretting so? After all, I knew God had called us to make this move. Oregon was on the “other side” of the voyage. The waters were rough. Yes. But what if we’d had to pull into port at an unscheduled location to wait for Bill to come get us? We’d be delayed, but not destroyed.

“Dear girl, where is your faith?”

How much better it would have been, had I relaxed and laughed my way through the trip—ridden the waves with Jesus’ calm assurance. We were following his call, so if Jesus was at rest, I need only place my pillow beside his.

Has God called you to cross to the other side of something? Is the storm rising against you? See if God is asking you to deal with the storm. If not, grab a pillow and rest with him until you get there.