Jesus in the Storm

Night has fallen. Echoes of new words spoken to myself and so many others ricochet in my head and my heart. How did I get so close to Him? We were surrounded by thousands of faces, too many to count. How, or rather, why did He draw me into this intimate circle? I am here, one of only a handful who go with Him. We all seem to be equally perplexed. Why us…why me… We have no other choice than to follow. Parts of me want to run away, knowing that I don’t deserve to be so close. I’m afraid of being found out, or truly seen and subsequently rejected. But I have to stay. Despite the wavering and the foreboding feeling in my heart, I stay…quiet and listening, I stay.

Evening is here, and Jesus tells us to cross to the other side. We pack our few things, getting into the boat. We push off from our anchored spot. Night is here, and clouds are moving in. But He says to cross, and none of us dare to question Him. We don’t point to the flashing lights on the horizon, or draw attention to the distant thunder. We want to be close, not left behind for second-guessing His words. I, for one, swallow my concerns. I still don’t know Him well enough to show that I’m afraid. Invincible, brave me climbs aboard.

We disperse to our areas. Many of His followers are fisherman who know this boat and sea well. They assume their positions, designating the different shifts each will take. I’ve helped secure the food and other items, and now I sit out of the way with a small group of land-loving travelers. The creaking boat moves us into the darkness. I see Jesus move to the lowest part of the boat. He says a prayer, lays down, and collapses into a motionless sleep. He is obviously exhausted. His face and body betray His weariness, as He sleeps to the rocking of the boat. 

I look out and I see the moon shimmering a pathway across the waves. I remember imagining I could walk on the magical path as a child. I always wondered where it led. I didn’t know then. I still don’t know. I know it leads away from where I am, and possibly – probably – to something better. I see the moon, the waves, and the stars, and I hear the wind, the water, the boat, and murmured conversations being swept away by zephyrs of wind. I’m not sure what magical, shimmering path led me to this haven on the waves, and I don’t know where the path will take me from here. I settle in, oddly at peace in the midst of this uncertainty. I breath in contentment and begin to nod off.

My dreams, however, stir restlessness within my heart. My body and mind follow their lead as my heartbeat quickens, and my thoughts give way to terror. In my dream, I am Jonah, aboard a ship that is taking me away from my worries, fears, and anxieties. I had climbed aboard with the others, hiding far too well the storm within my heart. I told them none of my troubles; I just climbed aboard and fell asleep while the boat drift away. Away from what? I couldn’t even recall. Just away… The boat grows restless, bucking like an animal that desires the tyrannical parasite be expelled from their grasped throne. The hushed conversations surrounding me heighten to cries of fear and panic as the boat threatens to become jetsam with each violent throe. The massive storm is upon us, and in the depths of my heart I know it had come for me. Nature, the gods…whatever it is knows I don’t belong, and it has come to forcibly remove me from my ruse. The sailors, who know the sky and sea well, shout chaotically, “where has this come from?! Are the gods angry with us?!” With dread I stumble forward in the boat. “It’s my fault! It’s me!” I cry, “Cut me off – throw me over – remove me – discard me! I don’t belong here! I’m not good! Get rid of me; I am a hindrance in your way!” There is no time to argue with my crazed rant, so they throw me over: a sacrifice to the fury of the gods. As I flail through the air, I have a sense of fittingness. This is as it should be. I think, as I am sucked toward the black hole of the waves.

The cold water hits my face, rousing me from my sleep. I wake from my dream, shaking Jonah from my identity, only to find my nightmare has crossed the impermeable barrier and become my reality. Terror, fear, chaos…water is filling the boat, the sails are ragged sheets in the wind, and these seasoned fishermen who have weathered decades of storms are frightened to their cores. They are all convinced their time has come. All are in panic, overrun by fear. My heart is cold and choked in terror within my chest. It is me. It’s my fault. My dream had foretold my destiny. I am a hindrance in the way. I must be removed, cut off, thrown overboard. I do not belong! I try to stand and grab hold of one of the mob to reveal that I am the new Jonah – I am the one running from a past I regret, mistakenly hoping for a new future of hope and restoration. I try to tell them to throw me to the sea, but no one listens. I decide to make my way to the edge, to remove myself, saving them all. I gain steps to the rail, only to be kicked violently down by the rebellious tantrum.

I fall backwards, and my face makes memorable contact with a motionless foot – the only still object on this craft of destruction. I see Jesus, asleep. I had forgotten He was even here. He is half-covered in water, undisturbed and at peace in the midst of the chaos. Another slam of the boat throws several of the fishermen down. One of them tumbles down to our low state, and is as startled as I am to find Jesus asleep. “Teacher!” he cries as he grabs Jesus’ cloak with both hands, jerking Him awake to perdition, “don’t you care that we’re dying?!” Jesus’ eyes come awake, and the words of the man register in His ears. His eyes respond, not with fear or even confusion. No, His eyes hold a depth of hurt. Sorrow. Pain. It seems misplaced to me: was He not afraid?

He rises, mysteriously unaffected by the wind, the waves, and the crashing of the boat. With a quiet voice that echoes as though spoken by an army, He says, “Peace! Be still.” In a blink, a heartbeat, a breath…everything changes and is exceedingly calm. We stare. Panting, soaked, half-crazed – we stare. He turns and holds each of our gazes, while the silence rings in our ears. He asks only one question, His eyes standing strong and yet sorrowful: “Why are you afraid?” And He pauses for what seems like eternity while we fumble for our responses. “Have you no faith?”

Lost in disbelief, I try and reconcile emotions, reason and reality. The sea, the wind, and the waves…they have no ears and yet they listen and obey His words! Who is this man?! At a depth that would crush any determined diver, I hear His words penetrate my heart. He looks directly at me, in me, through me, with a glance I cannot place. It is a look one gives a child who is nothing but pure delight. I hear Him, though His mouth does not move: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith? You are not Jonah. Stay with me. I’ve come for you. You belong. Do not run. Peace! Be still.”