Fourth Sunday After Epiphany Service
Sermon—Epiphany 4/St. Matthew 8:23-27
And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”
There’s a hymn in our book entitled, Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me. That hymn’s third verse is the one I keep thinking about. The verse says,
God oft gives me days of gladness;
Shall I grieve If He give Seasons too, of sadness?
God is good and tempers ever All my ill [meaning: He doesn’t let it overwhelm me],
And He will Wholly leave me never.
That verse reminds us that even “being in the boat with Jesus”—even being His followers doesn’t mean we only experience peace and joy in this world. We do have those things too—God oft gives [us] days of gladness (as the hymn writer says); but many of the Bible’s passages note the suffering of believers. “A disciple is not above his teacher,” Jesus once said to His followers. “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul [the devil, that is], how much more will they malign [speak evil about] those of his household (Matt.10:24,25).” He also said, Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple (Luke 14:27). This world is a corrupted and troubled world (we along with it, as we confessed earlier); and someone who wants to be with Jesus is signing up for many different kinds of additional trouble that might come from being His follower.
Jesus’ disciples, out in a boat with Him on the occasion of our text, certainly felt themselves to be in what the hymn writer describes as a season of sadness (though it takes place in minutes). They had felt secure; now—the next moment, in absolute distress. The way the text says it reminds us how quickly troubles come, right?—And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea. Sometimes these things come upon us so quickly that we find ourselves wondering, how did I get here? We have felt relaxed, in control. And then, suddenly we wonder how (and if) we will ever get back those feelings.
The disciples were feeling very desperate. And on top of it all, we’re told, [Jesus] was asleep. Matthew’s account of the incident continues like this: And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.”
Who could blame them, right? I don’t even like to imagine what that felt like; the spray of rain in their faces—blown by the heavy wind, waves throwing the boat around and even coming over the side, that feeling of being tossed up and down (did they feel like on a roller coaster when you’re being dropped down and your stomach has that really turbulent sensation?—most likely). When we’re in a situation like the disciples were in, we might be inclined to say something to God, similar to what they said: Save me! It might even be something more accusatory, like: Aren’t you there?! Don’t you know what I’m going through? Don’t you care? That’s kind of what the disciples were saying to Jesus. How can you sleep at a time like this? And, of course, Jesus just gets up and calms the seas.
And it’s interesting; that opens up a whole ‘nother can of worms, right? Because, then it occurs to us: He was in control of this the whole time. He’s the God-man. He isn’t helpless in the face of these things like we are (that’s a big part of the point of this whole account; in the Epiphany Season this text is an example of Jesus demonstrating His Divinity—that He’s God as well as man). And then we might be inclined to wonder: why, then? Why does He let these things happen? Why does He let me go through this [think about things you’ve gone through]? Why does He let me agonize, and wonder, and despair when He has the ability to just get up and calm the seas? Why?!
And His response to the disciples demonstrates that He wanted better from them. He wanted them to exhibit an awareness of who they were in the boat with. They’d seen Him turn water to wine, heal people with diseases and paralysis, cast out evil spirits. They’d heard His authoritative preaching in the Sermon on the Mount. You of little faith, He says to them. He says that they shouldn’t have been afraid. But isn’t their little faith understandable in such a difficult situation? After all, their very lives felt like they were on the line. Doesn’t seem like Jesus sees it that way, though, does it? He would like to have talked about them like He talked about the centurion in last week’s text. Remember, about that man He said, Not even in Israel have I found such faith (Luke 7:9). On the contrary, You of little faith, He says.
You’re thinking of yourself, now: would I have done any different? Would Jesus have had occasion to say any different about me? I have had my moments. I’ve seen some of life’s circumstances as merely that: meaninglessly tragic, apparently without anyone able to be in control of the situation (and if we step back to think about it, that even means…God). I have been of little faith. It could even be said I’ve been of no faith. We leave that for a moment.
So, again, why does God let these things happen to us? Why does He let us suffer so much? Has to be a reason for it, doesn’t there? The hymn writer is implying it in that verse. God gives us seasons of sadness (difficulty, danger, struggle, even fears and terrors) for our good. We will never cease in this life to need to put our trust in Him; and we need to be exercised in doing that. We’re trusting Him for an awful lot, after all. It isn’t just to save us when we get into tough situations in this life, into seasons of sadness. We’re trusting Him as the One Who brings us safely from this life into the next life in His kingdom. We’re trusting Him as the one Who makes the corrupted, fallen thing that we are into what is renewed and acceptable in His kingdom. That’s serious business. St. Peter is addressing it in this verse: Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. 13 But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed (1 Peter 4:12,13).
The disciples were undergoing a severe trial in the boat that day. And if we apply the words of the hymn we see an interesting perspective.
God is good and tempers ever All my ill,
And He will Wholly leave me never.
The disciples were imagining that everything had gone haywire, that no-one could be in control of what was happening (Who could control the wind and the sea? This was just something that happens. How could anyone be in charge of that?). And now they were out in it [think about their experience out there, and about experiences you’ve had that it reminds you of]. Certainly, they must be going to perish. And that’s what they said to Jesus. And in the end, what they say to one another indicates that they had no expectation that Jesus had that kind of power either. “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” So, what did they think they were waking Jesus to do? Maybe He would pitch in as an extra hand in steering the apparently doomed vessel. That was their instinct; if they’d had half a minute to think about it they might have thought it was pointless, and let Him go on sleeping.
But the point of our text is that they weren’t in the boat with just anyone here. This one “sawing logs” in the stern of the ship was in control of the winds and sea. Nothing could happen to them apart from His will. That was kind of important information for them to know. They needed to know through experience that He was the one to put their trust in. They needed to know from being brought to the edge, overlooking the cliff and being dangled off of it, that Jesus is the One Who can save them. The difficult experience was necessary, you see. They wouldn’t learn this lesson in calm seas. They wouldn’t learn it if they had hope that they themselves could solve it. No, it had to be unsolvable. That’s where Jesus can reach out His hand to us and bring us to Himself.
That’s how you should see these things when they appear in your life as well. Does it feel like you’re at the edge of a cliff, that you’re overlooking it and being dangled off of it? What hope do you have? Can you remedy it yourself? No reason to be terrified if you can; but, you’re terrified. In those moments, you’re with the disciples in the raging sea, aren’t you? You’re in the midst of a turbulent horror that seems solution-less. But it isn’t just something that happens. Someone is in control of it. Someone is in charge. Jesus is God as well as man. There isn’t anything He can’t do to help you in any situation. He trains you through trials to trust Him in life’s things so that you will especially trust Him in the matter of eternal life. And why shouldn’t you trust Him in that? His trust in the Father never wavered in the most distressing trials like yours has. He’s the man Whose faith was never little. His perfect faith stands in the place of yours that has failed. And this one Who calms the wind and seas has calmed God’s anger at your sins with His perfect sacrifice on the cross. In Him, you’re forgiven of faithlessness and of every other sin. He’s the one to put your trust in.
Prayer: Lord God, heavenly Father, who in Your good and fatherly wisdom subject Your children here on earth to the cross, sending various tempests upon us to curb our sin and train us in faith, hope, and prayer: we beseech You to have mercy on us, hear our prayer in every trial and need, and provide Your gracious help, that we may acknowledge Your grace and fatherly assistance, and with all the saints forever praise and bless You, who with the Son and the Holy Spirit are the only everlasting and almighty God. Amen.