This tip is going to discuss the story,
it's told three times in the New Testament,
of the stirring of the storm on the
Sea of Galilee.
Matthew, Mark, Luke all tell the story.
And here is Luke's account of the incident.
It's in Luke chapter 8 and verse 22.
It came to pass on a certain day
that he went into a ship with his
disciples, and he said to them, Let's go
over to the other side of the lake.
And they launched forth.
But as they sailed, he fell asleep.
And there came down a storm of wind
on the lake, and they were filled with
water and were in jeopardy.
And they came to him and awoke him,
saying, Master, master, we perish.
Then he arose and rebuked the wind and
the raging of the water.
And they ceased, and there was a camp.
And he said unto them, Where is your
faith?
And they, being afraid, wondered, saying one to
another, What manner of man is this?
For he commandeth even the winds and the
water, and they obey him.
The Sea of Galilee on which this happened
was well known, and is well known still,
for its storms.
One moment the water can be calm as
a millpond.
In an hour a storm can be raging
that's terrifying and fearsome.
Sometimes, even out of a clear sky, swirling
currents create terrible squalls.
There are many ravines to the northeast of
the upper part of the lake, through which
the winds from the heights of Hauron, the
plateau of Trachonitis, the summit of Mount Hermon,
rush down with such tremendous force that the
little lake of Gennesaret becomes a boiling cauldron.
There's no guarantee that when leaving the one
side in a dead camp, you will cross
the lake without encountering a tremendous storm.
Now that's exactly what happened on this occasion.
Our Lord had been busy all day, and
now evening has come, and he says to
his disciples, Let's cross over to the other
side.
They promptly obeyed.
The multitudes were sent away, some who didn't
want to depart, but wished to keep near
Jesus wherever he was, followed in their own
little boats.
And then the disciples took Jesus, the verb
is very strong, paralambano, meaning to take to
oneself and refuse to be separated.
They took their Lord like that and launched
forth.
There's even a suggestion that they had almost
to take him by force to get him
away from the throng.
Eventually, however, they were ready, and they pushed
off from the shore.
Jesus took his place in the hinder part
of the boat, the place in which any
honored guest would normally be placed, and so
the journey began.
But scarcely were they on their way when
the storm broke.
Jesus, however, was completely unconcerned.
He must have been very weary.
It had been a long day.
Crowds had been around him continually.
He had taught them and healed them, and
this is exhausting and taxing work.
Virtue goes out of any true servant of
God when he ministers God's power and brings
God's message to men.
Naturally, therefore, he fell asleep, and so soundly
that the storm didn't waken him.
What a picture for a great artist, the
boat, the toiling seaman, the lashing storm, and
the sleeping figure of Jesus.
That's the background to this tale of miracle.
What are the lessons?
Well, before getting to the immediate and major
lessons of this miracle, we should first of
all remind ourselves how skilled these men were
when it came to boats.
They had lived their life on the Sea
of Galilee.
They knew its moods and its temper.
They weren't likely to be surprised at anything,
but it would seem that this was a
storm that outstormed anything they had seen before.
The mighty waves broke over the prow and
the gunwales of the boat.
Bale as they might, the waters gained upon
them, and they began to look at one
point in their journey that they were facing
certain death.
And meantime Jesus was sleeping.
Could it really be true?
In the midst of this howling and lashing
gale can the Lord of all life lie
asleep like a little child?
He was in the hinder part of the
ship, asleep on a pillow.
This is his repose amid the seeming cataclysms
of life.
He rests.
He is fully relaxed.
What marvelous gifts must come to a sinless
life!
But the ragonized cry of desperation ultimately woke
him.
Master, carest thou not that we perish?
Then he arose.
What majesty there must have been in that
uprising, for the mighty waters knew their master.
They also knew his voice as it thrilled
out across the howling of the winds.
Peace, be still.
That was all he said.
Nothing more was needed.
The winds ceased, and there was a great
calm.
The wild waves hushed.
The mighty deep sank like a little child
to sleep.
The sullen billows ceased to leap at thy
will.
The storm fell as suddenly as it had
burst.
The peace that remained was shattering in its
stillness.
Fear for themselves turned to amazement regarding this
man, and their next words were to each
other.
What manner of man is this that even
the wind and the sea obey him?
The unpredictable and tempestuous sea that they knew
so well was subject to his voice.
Here is Christ in the boat.
Let's look at him there.
They took him with them, even as he
was.
I suppose this means that they had no
extra blankets or clothing with which to make
a rough bed for him on board.
They knew that he had asked them to
cross to the other side, and they obeyed.
This measure of faith they have.
They have learned to do what he asks
them to do.
And so they climb into the boat, get
the gear and the tackle ready, and launch
from shore.
For them, I am sure, the greatest joy
and assurance was that Jesus was with them.
But the little reckoned on a storm of
this magnitude.
It happened, however, even with Jesus in the
boat by their side.
And here, possibly, lies at least one of
the lessons of this miracle.
Knowledge of Christ is no guarantee that you
are going to escape from trouble.
Christ was with them, and yet storm came.
And this can happen to us all.
Behind what happened here is the fact that
God sees to it that we are given
opportunities to try our consecration, whether it be
true or not.
No man can be holy to the Lord
unless he is wholly consecrated to the Lord.
And no man can know whether he is
really consecrated to the Lord except by tribulation,
testing, and trial.
This is the acid test, and it's a
hard one.
But he who would escape this test is
giving evidence that he does not wholly know
the strategy of God in working out his
salvation in fullness and glory.
Our Lord himself was tested.
He was tested in the wilderness by the
devil.
He was made perfect, we are told, through
suffering.
And it will be the same for all
the servants of Jesus who intend to demonstrate
the reality of their commitment and the certainty
of their consecration.
When James writes of this, he uses some
superlative words.
He says, Count it all joy, my brethren,
when you fall into manifold trials, knowing that
the trial of your faith worketh patience.
But let patience have her perfect work, that
you may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.
James 1 verses 2 to 4 in the
revised version.
Notice the use of the words manifold trials,
or as the authorized King James version has
it, manifold temptations.
Out of the surroundings which you have been
conducive to peace, comfort, and outward prosperity, we
find ourselves in the midst of a wild
tempest.
We move suddenly from quiet to disquiet, from
trust to terror, from safety to destruction.
Manifold trials are the unavoidable lot of every
believer.
This is something that many a Christian learns
slowly, all too slowly.
Indeed, some pass through life and refuse to
learn the lesson at all, grumbling against God
when he brings his thunders against them.
They haven't learned that it's possible to have
Christ in the boat with you, and yet
run into the teeth of a gale.
In such an hour, it's very easy to
be terrified.
We become terrified by circumstances where we find
ourselves.
We go out as missionaries of the cross
and find ourselves in a hostile land with
little or no response.
Our home, which ought to be a place
of quiet rest, sometimes becomes instead a place
where we vent our feelings of frustration on
each other.
We haven't learned the art of moving through
the rough and the difficult with confidence in
our hearts, and yet this is what Christ
wants us to do.
This certainly is the meaning of his question
to the disciples at the end of this
story.
How is it?
How is it that you have no faith?
In Matthew, Christ says, Why are ye fearful?
Mark carries it a little further, saying, Why
are you so fearful?
Our Lord was really surprised at their fear.
He couldn't understand their terror.
And if, as we pass through difficulties and
we give way to self-pity or to
fear of evil men or evil spirits, Christ
will certainly be surprised.
He will come to our aid.
You can be sure of that, even though
he is disappointed with our little faith.
David the Psalmist in Psalm 46 says, God
is our refuge and our strength in straits
of present aid.
Therefore, although the earth be moved, we will
not be afraid.
That's the confidence of David as expressed in
that great psalm.
And there's a climax further on in the
psalm where it says, God in the midst
of her doth dwell, nothing shall her remove.
The Lord to her a helper will, and
that right early prove.
The main thing is to have Christ in
the boat.
Even though trials come and even though we
may be greatly terrified because of them, if
Christ is with us, if Jesus is there
by our side, no harm will befall.
For he has said, I will never leave
you nor forsake you.
So we can boldly say, The Lord is
my helper, and I shall not fear.
Hebrews 13 verses 5 and 6.
Now we see here also in this story
the power of fervent prayer.
The power of fervent prayer.
He was in the hinder part of the
ship asleep on a pillow, and they awake
him and say to him, Master, carest thou
not that we perish?
Now this is a very audacious question.
Indeed, as Matthew Henry says, it seemeth almost
harsh to address the master thus.
Yet they awoke him and pled with him,
their eyes, their terror-stricken faces, evidence of
their anguish.
Carest thou not that we perish?
It was a hard thing to say.
After all that they have come to know
about their Lord since first they began to
follow him, is it not unthinkable that they
could imagine him allowing them to die?
Of course it is.
But there are times when the cares and
burdens of life are so great, we scarcely
know what to say or do.
I think the disciples are in this kind
of condition at this point.
They went to him nonetheless, and this is
the all-important fact.
They cried to him.
They knew that left to their own devices
there was nothing more that they could do,
and so they cried, beseeching him to have
mercy, to show his pity, and to exercise
his power.
This might be called wits and prayer.
It's not the best kind of prayer, but
it's still prayer.
It certainly was fervent prayer.
They awoke him.
They realized that he was their only hope.
Unless he did something unique, the situation was
hopeless.
Wits and prayer?
Yes, okay, but better that than no prayer
at all.
You and I have to learn to pray.
Our Lord has taught us that men ought
always to pray and not to faint.
Luke 18, verse 1.
Our Lord prayed, and that in itself is
significant.
He had every form of strength which men
associate with masculine life.
Strength of body, strength of mind, marvelous strength
of affection, amazing powers of patience, calm, undaunted
when assailed by foes.
And yet, this man prayed.
He prayed in the hour of temptation.
When the horizon darkened with omens of rejection,
he prayed.
He entered the garden of Gethsemane, and there
he prayed.
He prayed before he chose his disciples.
The night previous, he did not sleep, but
spent it in communion with God his Father.
Our Lord prayed when he was surrounded by
the possibility and the perils of success.
When men wanted to come and make him
a king, we are told he departed into
a solitary place and there prayed.
Can we live the life of Christ without
emulating his example?
I am certain that this is an utter
impossibility.
Not to pray is to shut out heaven.
To cease to pray is to close the
ventilators of your soul and shut out air
and light.
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, uttered or
unexpressed, the motion of a hidden fire that
trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the path that leads to God.
Prayer is a token of our commitment to
the work and will of God the Father,
whose we are and whom we serve.
We must pray, moment by moment, in every
place, for all mankind and to the glory
of God.
What God wills to accomplish on earth needs
prayer as its indispensable condition.
Three powers are ours to use in prayer,
amid the darkness and testing of any hard
or bitter situation, and they are mighty.
The blood of Jesus, that's one.
Two, the name of Jesus, and three, the
word of God.
As you pray, take these three great and
wonderful facts and plead them before the throne
of God in heavenly alliance with the Holy
Spirit.
We can take these unique powers and by
them dispel the powers of darkness, but the
measure of our surrender to Christ is the
measure of our power in prayer.
Prayer, may I say, is the greatest antidote
to fear.
In that boat, all through that storm-filled
night, there was fear.
It was only when they went to Jesus
and made known to Him their eager, anxious
cry that fear was dispelled, because He arose
and rebuked the waves, and there was a
great peace.
And in this tense, neurotic world in which
we live our fevered lives, there is one
place where we may be delivered from the
burden of anxiety, care, or fear.
It is the blood-stained mercy seat.
It is the throne of God.
Let our prayer continually be, Lord, teach me
to pray.
And then as I read this story, I
see the lordship of Christ.
The earliest creed that the Christian church confessed
was a very simple one, two words, Christos
Kurios, which means Christ is Lord.
And it's this confession that we should learn
with deeper understanding from this miracle of the
stilling of the storm and Galilee.
For Christ is the cosmic Christ.
This one who is sleeping in the hinder
part of the boat is the one by
whom everything was made.
It's hard to believe, I know, but it's
the heart of the gospel.
The good news that erupted into the world
on the first Christmas was that the one
by whom all things were made had come
to dwell among men.
He laid the glory of heaven behind him,
and he entered our planet, not in the
way in which we normally do, but through
the sovereign intervention of the Holy Spirit in
the life of a pure virgin.
Thus he came.
He is the one by whom all things
were made.
He's the creator Christ.
He is, according to the tremendous songs that
sing their way through the book of Revelation,
the kingly Christ.
He goes forth conquering, and to conquer, his
is the triumph, and his the crown.
And you know, it's this triumph that we
see at this point of his ministry.
Roused suddenly from sleep, he isn't flustered or
upset.
All we read is, he arose and rebuked
the wind.
Let not the wind any longer roar.
Let not the sea any longer rage.
Both wind and sea rebuked almost as though
they were separate persons.
And this same triumph he brings to us
in the glory of his lordship.
When our hearts are like the troubled sea
and cannot rest, when our passions are up,
very unruly, let us give ear to this
word of Christ with which he rebukes the
wind and the sea, be silent.
Be silent, be dumb, be still, and know
that I am God.
This is the triumph of Christ that we
may know in every hour of trouble.
He has promised it.
He will never disappoint.
When thou passest through the waters, I will
be with thee, and the rivers will not
overflow thee.
Let's claim this promise.
Let's learn to think not confusedly nor unadvisedly,
for he who has said these things to
us is the King of kings and the
Lord of lords.
Sometimes we experience what the Apostle Paul experienced.
Without were fighting, he says, and within were
fears.
2 Corinthians 7.5. When that happens, let
us put Christ to the test and request
of him to demonstrate his lordship when he
speaks.
There will be great peace, peace, perfect peace,
in this dark world of sin.
The blood of Jesus whispers peace within.
Peace, perfect peace, by thronging Judas' breast.
To do the will of Jesus, this is
rest.
Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging round.
On Jesus' bosom not but calm is found.
Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown.
Jesus we know, and he is on the
throne.
It is enough.
Our sorrows soon shall cease, and Jesus call
us to heaven's perfect peace.
This is the lordship of Christ, and we
should always put him to the test.
In this great story of the sealing of
the storm, I see the disciples in the
school of obedience.
Does it seem strange that these disciples should
be taken into a great storm and a
lake in order to enter a school of
obedience?
It may.
Yet I feel sure that part of the
great reason why Jesus took them there and
permitted that howling gale to sweep down upon
them was that they might know that they
were in the place where he wanted them
to be.
After all, it was he who had said,
let us cross over to the other side.
And when they thought of that, they realized
that they had gone right into the teeth
of the tempest at the command of their
master.
It's very remarkable that whenever the example of
Christ is presented to us in the scriptures
as a guide for ourselves, it's always his
sufferings that are lifted up in illustration.
How shall I follow Christ?
Look.
Behold the man of Calvary.
It's there we see best, best of all,
how we may follow.
Let me illustrate this with some scripture.
Let this mine be in use, says Paul,
which was also in Christ Jesus.
All the features which he here sets before
us are those of renunciation, suffering carved on
every step that Jesus took until he reached
the lowest and became obedient unto death, even
the death of the cross, Philippians 2, 5
-8.
To suffer patiently for is, Peter says, acceptable
with God.
For even hereunto were you called, because Christ
also suffered for us, leaving an example that
we should follow in his steps, 1 Peter
2, 20 and 21.
For as much then, says the same writer,
as Christ has suffered for us in the
flesh, arm yourselves likewise with the same mind.
And beloved, think it not strange concerning the
fiery trial that is to try you, as
though some strange thing happened unto you, but
rejoice inasmuch as you are partakers of Christ's
own sufferings, 1 Peter 1, 4, verses 1,
12 and 13.
All of this is freely open before us
in order that we might fully understood that
the school of obedience inevitably is a school
of suffering.
And the disciples learned that, that night on
the lake, when the storm came up, and
their master slept.
In many another storm we too may learn
the hard and testing lessons that our Lord
would teach us, but in it all, I
tell you, he will be precious, glorious, and
divine.
To sum up, let me do so.
In some very beautiful words of poetry, sometimes
when all life's lessons have been learned, and
sun and stars forevermore have set, the things
which our weak judgments here have spurned, the
things over which we grieved with ashes wet,
will flash before us out of life's dark
night, as stars shine most in deeper tints
of blue.
And we shall see that all God's plans
are right, and how what seemed reproof was
love most true.
And you shall shortly know that length and
breath is not the sweetest gift God sends
his friend, and that sometimes the sable pall
of death conceals the fairest boon his love
can send.
If we could push ajar the gates of
life, and stand within unto all God's working
sea, we could interpret all this doubt and
strife, and for each mystery could find a
key.
And if through patient toil we reach the
land where tired feet with sandals loosed may
rest, where we shall clearly see and understand,
I know that we shall say, God knew
the best.
The one who spoke the word of power
was true God and true man.
The disciples marveled.
What manner of man is this, that even
the wind and the waves obey him?
But this too they've learned in the school
of obedience.
Jesus Christ is Lord, and to know him
as Lord is to know the joy and
the wonder of life eternal, life everlasting, life
abundant, life which is heaven, life, the very
life of God himself.