Living the storm!
Just this (last) week I had my first night with the Sea Cadets and I was invited to consider Sea Sunday with the young folk. The text for Sea Sunday is the story of Jesus sleeping in the storm whilst the disciples desperately try to stay afloat. Finally they crack and wake Jesus with perhaps the most honest rebuke that comes from them. ‘Don’t you care that we are about to drown?’ You know that it must have been bad because no disciple would willingly speak to a rabbi like that. To top it off they are experienced fishermen…
Of course for the young folk we explored how Jesus is always with us and we don’t have to face our storms alone. The next day I had a meeting with my Mission and Care team where I have the dubious honour of being the Convener. Part of me wishes I could sleep in the boat whilst the storm rages around me. However, more than that I want to shake Jesus awake and ask him if he doesn’t care that his Church is drowning? Desperately, along with so many I am bailing the water out, and wondering what next? The winds are buffeting us about and the horizon is lost. The waves are overwhelming and crashing through the boats, relentless it seems.
What puzzles me though is whether the church is still, even 10+ years later trying to empty the water out of the boat? Have we got so used to the storm that we have forgotten to wake Jesus at the end of the boat? Indeed for some the storm is exciting and allows us some modicum of power. Are we more focussed on managing the storm, trying to harness the wind and the waves, believing we are using the power of them for our benefit? We control others through this by making them constantly live in fear of dying - otherwise known as ‘managing decline’. We share those statistics and invite those left to keep using buckets?
What if we don’t want to ask Jesus to still the storm because we are not ready to deal with the consequences? The men were terrified when Jesus calmed the storm and asked ‘who is this man?’ The power God holds should terrifying us yet that shouldn’t stop us from accessing it. Nevertheless I have yet to witness a storm without casualties. In the story, often overlooked, is the fact that other boats followed. They were in the storm too and who knows what happened to them. We can surmise it wasn’t anymore pleasant for them.
We are afraid to face the reality of the storm. There will be damage and loss, broken boats and even loss and grief. The church of God is not without God and his people are safe in his hands. Perhaps we need to accept the fact that faith is meant to get harder - scripture points us towards it constantly.
I wonder what it means to live after the storm…? Storms can change landscapes. Our landscape has changed but if all we focus on is surviving the storm we can’t explore. New parishes will appear, team work and sharing of resources, developing forms of ministry that use our resources to their fullest extent, and dare I say it far more public ways of sharing the good news. The landscape of communication has changed enormously and the opportunities endless. Yet what cannot be beaten, proven in a pandemic, is the personal interactions.
Jesus calmed the environment and then challenged his people’s faith. Let’s put the storm and ourselves in his hands, even it is terrifying, and let God work with us, through us and for us. And that might only happen when we stop worrying about saving our boats (church) and start looking around us for God in the storm.
Put down the buckets and look for God. You might just find a whole new perspective.
Have a great week!
Love Sarah
You can find more at East Kilbride Moncreiff - all the usual channels!
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