The Sea of Galilee is 685 feet below sea level, the lowest freshwater body of water in the world. It sits in the Jordan Rift, a fault zone with steep hills and mountains all around it. The Mediterranean Ocean is only 27 miles to the west.

West winds blow off the Ocean and funnel through passes of the Galilean hill country and down the steep hillsides. These sea breezes help keep the climate in the Jordan Valley temperate, but the air warms over the land. As the warm moist air rises from the Sea it collides with the dry, cool air from the mountain heights to the east and thunderstorms can develop over Galilee.

The harshest storms on Galilee are caused when a low pressure zone to the east causes the winds to blow down from the Golan Heights. The air compresses in the passes of the Trans-Jordan mountains and rushes down onto the Sea which is confined to a relatively small area of 64 square miles. The effect of these winds on the Sea is like turning a hair dryer onto a bowl of water. The water is forced down, but really has no place to go so it pushes up into towering waves. A storm surge like this in March of 1992 sent ten foot waves on the west side of Galilee crashing into downtown Tiberias wreaking havoc with its shopping area and marina.

The storm described in Matthew 8:23-27, Mark 4:35-41, and Luke 8:22-25 was a real storm with great danger. Jesus proved its master. Ever since then, people facing all kinds of storms that threaten to destroy them have found hope in Jesus through the gospel accounts. This week?s message is taken from one of those accounts. I first sent it out five years ago as part of a series on the ?sea stories of Jesus.? Given the traumas of Hurricanes Harvey and Irma, it seems timely to send it out now.

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On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ?Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:35-41).

The day ends and the evening begins with the disciples certain of many things. They are devout men of strong principle and a hunger for God. They are sure they know who Jesus is. They take him on board “just as he is.”

What he is to them is a teacher and story-teller, a sometime miracle worker and an exhausted man. He is a celebrity, someone exciting to be around. It makes them feel good to be useful to him–to sail away with him from the crowd on the shore that envies their closeness to him.

They know their home-waters like the backs of their hands. They know what it takes to sail them and just where the fish feed in them. They are out for a nice cruise this evening, certain that they are in control.

Then their certainties are shredded along with their sail. The storm almost kills them. They are powerless, adrift, just one gust and one wave away from drowning.

Jesus is sound asleep on a cushion in the back of the boat, maddeningly oblivious to the storm of demonic strength that is overpowering them. The disciples wake him up in panic. “Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?”  It’s an odd question. Determining his state of mind about their welfare seems the least of their concerns. Something more direct would be in order like, “Help!” or “Lord, save us!”

It is a sign of our rebel faithlessness that we seek companionship in our misery rather than divine solutions. But our Lord is merciful and responds to our needs even when we can’t find the right words.

He rouses himself and tells the wind to “Stop now!” He says to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” although he may be addressing the clamoring, terrified disciples as well. After all, it was his idea to cross the lake. They aren’t going to drown on his watch, but they don’t know that or trust him yet.

The wind stops and the sea calms all in an instant. They are surprised, but Jesus is disappointed.

He had given them the amazing catch of fish when their best efforts had come up empty. They had seen him feed the 5,000 on nothing more than five loaves and two sardines. He had healed the sick and raised the dead.  Yet, they are still focused on their felt needs, not on what he can do.

He has no sympathy for their lack of trust. He never does. He is ruthless on this point. “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Jesus would rather have our trust than our love, because our salvation depends on him and our trust makes the vital connection to his saving power. Trust and love are so intertwined that this issue is obscured, but the hard fact is that stated by Isaiah —

Surely God is my salvation;

   I will trust, and will not be afraid,

for the Lord God is my strength and my might;

   he has become my salvation.

                 (Isa 12:2)

Our salvation isn’t a personal achievement. It is the complete and singular gift of God and we have to trust that even, and especially, in the midst of the storm.

The disciples are finding out that there is a lot more to their “Teacher” than good stories and food distribution. He has faced down the worst storm that they have ever experienced and they are stunned. They have only one question now and it is the right one — “Who then is this, that even the wind and waves obey him?”

Phobos is the Greek word that Mark’s Gospel uses for how the men felt in the moment before the lake once again perfectly mirrored the stars. Phobos is the root word of “phobia,” an abnormal, intense, illogical fear. It is a pathological terror devastating them to the core of their very being. They were afraid they were going to die and Jesus stood up and overpowered the source of their fear with complete mastery.

Having seen his power in action, the men are now more afraid of Jesus than they were afraid of the storm. “They feared exceedingly,” is the way the King James Version of Mark 4:41 puts it. If you don’t know what it means to fear Jesus more than the storm, you are still wading in the spiritual shadows.

You have to experience this for yourself to be sure, but it is the moment of conversion when you become more afraid of Jesus than the storm that threatens to destroy you. Jesus doesn’t mince words on this: “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt 10:28). The power of forgiveness and eternal life is possessed by Jesus and that’s why he, and he alone, is worth the kind of fear that is really awe and reverence (Ps 130:3-4).

We have a lot of sweet illusions about Jesus. He tells us to cross the sea. He comes to us just as we are and climbs in your boat just as he is. We sail out with the other boats. We’re proud to be in his company–Jesus and us sailing off together into the sunset and he’s picked our boat, not theirs! “It doesn’t get any better than this–we’re taking Jesus for a ride,” we think. We even pride ourselves that we’ve got everything under control so Jesus can sleep.

Then the wind changes and blows with a relentless keening that robs us of rational thought. The waves turn rough and hit us again and again and then recoil and crash into us from the other direction with no let up. Our carefully constructed little vessel begins to break up and take on water. “Hello, we’re sinking here” we think. “We’re dying!”

We wonder, “How can he be our sailing buddy when he is asleep in the back of the boat while we are bailing hard and not keeping up?” Mustering up whatever we may remember from the lessons we learned by rote, we call out in desperation, even anger, “Teacher, don’t you care that I’m drowning?”

He’ll calm the storm for our comfort, though it’s not really necessary. We forget that Jesus told us the destination and said that we would go across together. It’s our perception, not his reality that has us scared, but he’ll hold us and make the bad thing go away like a mother holds and comforts her child who is screaming with night terrors.

But we’re adults and the ease with which Jesus takes control scares us because we realize that we are truly powerless and we are never again going to be able to wrap ourselves in the security blanket of illusion. He does what is necessary, but he asks hard questions –“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Faith of course brings it all down to Jesus. “Who then is this?” we ask, wrestling with our egos to accept the Prince of Peace when we don’t know how he works that peace in the midst of the storm. If we could only know the details of how, when, where, and why, we could control the outcome. All we get, though, is a Who that we can’t control, let alone understand.

You may think it’s enough to have Jesus in your boat, but are wondering why you are still wet, wind-blown and cold and your boat is sinking? “Don’t you care?” you ask Jesus.

“Why are you afraid?” he asks you back, with a maddening question answering a question.

It is only later when the adrenaline subsides and your body stops quivering that you realize that Jesus does care because the storm is gone, you are alive, and HE made the difference. Paul says that “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus! (Phil 4:7). Jesus is our peace.

See, it isn’t the boat that you are in that is going to save you. It is the Christ Jesus in you that makes all the difference. And in case you are wondering, you get in Christ Jesus by believing in Christ Jesus as your Lord and Savior.

Where are you looking for the difference in your life? Put yourself in the story. Are you seeking your significance in the acceptance of the crowd waiting on the shore? In the number of boats that follow you out? In the fellowship of those sailing out with you?

Do you require a clear sky and a calm sea before you venture out at Jesus’ call? Are you putting your hope in a bigger boat or a water-tight hull of your own construction? Are you setting your course by the weather reports or by trusting your instincts to read the signs in the sky? Is Jesus disappointing you because your little boat seems to be sinking and he doesn’t seem to care? Do you fear the storm more than you believe Jesus’ instruction to cross the sea?

Think about these questions because the story of Jesus calming the storm isn’t about safe answers. It’s a story about questions.

“Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?”

“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

“Who is this that even the wind and the waves obey him?”

Honestly seek the Answer to all three questions and you will safely enter the harbor of the Kingdom of God.

“O taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are those who take refuge in him” (Ps. 34:8).

Please note that the content and viewpoints of Mr. Hansen are his own and are not necessarily those of the C.S. Lewis Foundation. We have not edited his writing in any substantial way and have permission from him to post his content.

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Kent Hansen is a Christian attorney, author and speaker. He practices corporate law and is the managing attorney of the firm of Clayson, Mann, Yaeger & Hansen in Corona, California. Kent also serves as the general counsel of Loma Linda University and Medical Center in Loma Linda, California.

Finding God’s grace revealed in the ordinary experiences of life, spiritual renewal in Christ and prayer are Kent’s passions. He has written two books, Grace at 30,000 Feet and Other Unexpected Places published by Review & Herald in 2002 and Cleansing Fire, Healing Streams: Experiencing God’s Love Through Prayer, published by Pacific Press in spring 2007. Many of his stories and essays about God’s encompassing love have been published in magazines and journals. Kent is often found on the hiking trails of the southern California mountains, following major league baseball, playing the piano or writing his weekly email devotional, “A Word of Grace for Your Monday” that is read by men and women from Alaska to Zimbabwe.