Sleeping Jesus at the Wheel

Fourteen years ago I was chosen to lead a short-term mission trip to Petauke, Zambia in order to aid a church founded by a missionary named Francois. It was a great privilege to go. I only had one problem. I was terrified of the overseas flight.

Prior to this, I had only ridden in an airplane one time. My first flight was to Moscow, Russia for another short-term mission trip in which I participated. That flight had been a nightmare. The entire flight had been full of terrifying turbulence. Throughout the long trip, I remained awake in a state of panic. I had never prayed longer and more sincerely in my entire life. Thus, when I learned that I was in for another long overseas flight I was not looking forward to another sleepless night of panic-filled prayer.

My fear about flying was not a secret. Participants in the mission trip knew how terrified I was of the long journey. I was so nervous I even had my doctor prescribe anti-anxiety pills to help me on the trip. News of my fear reached Francois and instead of offering words of consolation, he soundly rebuked me for my fear with these words: "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" (Mark 4:40)

He told me to repeatedly read Mark 4:35-41 and remember that Jesus was with me on the flight just as he had been with the disciples on the boat. No matter how perilous or turbulent the trip became, I need not fear, because Jesus was with me. Put simply: Remember who is on the boat with you!

At the time, this did little for my fear. It was only later, after numerous flights that my anxiety dissipated. I came to realize that, statistically, I was much safer on a plane than in my own car. But I never forgot Francois' words of rebuke. And no matter how difficult they were to hear at the time, I came to appreciate his courage in challenging my faith.

Storm at Sea

Mark's dramatic story is full of vivid details that allow us to enter into the story - to actually feel the threatening waves breaking against our small boat.

It takes place in the evening, after a full and exhausting day of teaching. Though the day is over, the crowds continue to press upon Jesus. So Jesus calls on his disciples to gather in a boat and cross to the other side in order that they might have a moment of peace. Jesus' disciples readily comply, even though a number of them were fishermen, and thus, knew from experience the danger of sudden storms on the Sea of Galilee. (At least four were fishermen and two - James and John - were skilled in handling boats on this lake.)

In the middle of the night the disciples' peace turns into terror. "A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped" (Mark 4:37). Jesus, however, was oblivious to the storm, for "he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion" (Mark 4:38). In other words, he was asleep like a baby. The disciples, on the other hand, were terrified.

The contrast could not be more striking. Jesus' head is on a pillow while a storm rages. Meanwhile, the disciples frantically seek to keep the ship afloat on the turbulent sea.

Some commentators highlight how Jesus' serene sleep is a picture of complete trust in God's sustaining and protective care. Dawn Wilhelm notes that "Jesus' sleep not only represents his trust in God but also confidence in the disciples' seamanship, a sense of trust and confidence that the disciples seem to lack."[1]

"The disciples, however, do not interpret his untroubled sleep as evidence of his trust in God [or in their seamanship], which will also ensure their welfare. They regard it as a token of his indifference to their safety in their hour of danger."[2] The situation becomes even more terrifying if it is true that Jesus is asleep in the pilot's seat, which the reference to the cushion may suggest.

Carrie Underwood has a song called "Jesus, Take the Wheel" in which she prays to Jesus to take over when she has reached her limit in the face of danger. In Mark's story, Jesus may be at the wheel... and asleep! Anyone who has ever been in the passenger seat of a vehicle when the driver is nodding off knows how terrifying this scenario can be!

Regardless of the details, Jesus is apparently unaware of the disciples' plight. Peeved with his apparent lack of concern the disciples wake Jesus with their cry, "Don't you care that we are perishing?" Byrne writes, "In Mark's account they are not necessarily asking for a miracle, but simply that he help in some way. Though not a sailor, he could at least bail out water or the like!"[3]

Jesus quickly responds with divine authority: "He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, 'Peace! Be still!'" (Mark 4:39a). Jesus' words are few - only two words in Greek, and both in the imperative: "Quiet now! Be calm!" The result leaves the disciples speechless: "Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm" (Mark 4:39b).

Through this action, Jesus assumes an authority that is the exclusive domain of God in the Old Testament. Only God can still the sea (Pss. 65:7, 89:9; 106:9; 107:23-30; Isaiah 51:10). And yet, here, Jesus performs the same action. "The simplicity and brevity of his command to wind and waves express the assurance of one who is in control. The response of the natural elements to his command is evidence of his authority."[4]

We know who Jesus is by what Jesus does. Through his actions, Jesus reveals a fundamental truth about his identity. He is no ordinary man, but one invested with the power and authority that is usually reserved for God alone.

Jesus turns to his open-mouthed disciples and challenges their disbelief evidenced by their fear, "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" (Mark 4:40). At the heart of his questions is an appeal to his disciples to have faith in him.

The disciples are left scratching their heads, the fear of the storm relieved. But their fear about Jesus is reawakened: "And they were filled with great awe (lit. fear) and said to one another, 'Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?'" (Mark 4:41). Their question expresses awe at the depths in Jesus they do not understand. They have just seen Jesus do the impossible. They have witnessed him transform a great storm (Mark 4:37) into a great calm (Mark 4:39). They do not ask how Jesus accomplished this divine feat but who it is that stands before them as the lord of wind and sea. "The fear of the disciples, however, does not alleviate after the storm quiets down. Instead, their fear intensifies as it shifts to the person with them in the boat, who has just shown his divine control over the sea."[5]

We, the reader, are left to ponder the same question that captivates the disciples: Who is Jesus? Furthermore, we are left to examine ourselves in light of Jesus' questions: "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" Put simply: Will we trust Jesus? "Jesus has mastery over the sea, the place of chaos and evil, as God does. If the disciples only understood that they had set to sea with one who has such power, they would confess that all their fears were groundless."[6]

We're in the Same Boat

Throughout sacred scripture, the sea is a metaphor for the evil and chaotic forces that surround us - forces over which we have no control. Unlike dry land, the sea is a place without a foundation. We can gain no footing in the sea, but rather, are tossed about by its waves that threaten to overwhelm and engulf us.

For example, in Psalm 69, the psalmist picture his desperate situation using the metaphor of being lost at sea in the midst of a perilous storm:

Save me, O God,
   for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire,
   where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
   and the flood sweeps over me...
rescue me
   from sinking in the mire;
let me be delivered from my enemies
   and from the deep waters.
Do not let the flood sweep over me,
   or the deep swallow me up,
   or the Pit close its mouth over me. (Psalm 69:1-2, 14-15)

One of the unique signs of God's might is that "God rules the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them" (Psalm 89:8-9). The earthquakes and storms of life cannot thwart the power of God's redemption:

God is our refuge and strength,
   a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
   though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
though its waters roar and foam,
   though the mountains tremble with its tumult. (Psalm 46:1-3; cf. 107:23-32)

The faithful know the promise of God:

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
   and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
   and the flame shall not consume you. (Isaiah 43:2)

One natural reaction to the rising waters and crashing waves of affliction is fear. When storms suddenly arise in our lives, we all too quickly assume, like the disciples, that God must not care for us. If God did, we assume, there wouldn't be a storm in the first place. We cry out to God, "Don't you care?" We forget who is in the boat with us - who he is, how we cares for us, and what he can do. Ultimately, we are not at the mercy of the sea, but in the merciful care of our God.

When storms suddenly arise, we must remind ourselves of this story: "The stilling of the storm continues to reassure the church in every time of persecution and distress that Jesus Christ is Lord, that he is ruler of nature and history, and that he is present with his disciples in their anxiety."[7] Williamson continues,

The text is also significant for individual Christians. In times of tumult and grave danger, a natural human reaction is to wonder whether or not there is a God, and if so, whether God is even aware of my problem. We cry out to God in the midst of our storms, "Don't you care?" We try to wake God up to take care of us. At such times the text speaks to our condition. It pictures Jesus in the boat with his disciples, present with us and concerned for us even when we do not perceive his care.[8]

When we encounter storms, Jesus asks us, "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" Each storm is an invitation to trust Jesus, to remember his care. We need not accuse Jesus of apathy - "Don't you care?" - but rather must remind ourselves that Jesus is with us, and therefore, "though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will not fear, for you are with us."

The opposite of faith is not doubt or even unbelief, but rather, fear. "Whenever we are threatened by forces beyond our control, fear and faith compete for our allegiance."[9] For this reason, no command is repeated more often in the Bible than the simple command, "Fear not."

We should not be surprised that it is the storms of life that actually prove our faith. "Reading Mark helps one learn to trust in a Savior who does not deliver us from storms but through the storms. Christianity is not a refuge from the uncertainties and insecurities of the world."[10] Instead, our faith is a refuge in the midst of the uncertainties and insecurities of the world.

It is the storms of life that reveal more of Jesus' care and concern for us, and thus, more of our need to trust him: "The place of chaos can be the point of theophany. It is in the period of liminality and transition, in the stormy sea crossings of life, when we may be most fearful and frantic, that Jesus reveals himself most clearly as who he IS. And that, it seems to me, is very good news."[11]

Our greatest fear should not be that storms suddenly arise in our lives. This is inevitable. We all face situations beyond our control, times when fear arises and our faith is challenged. But there is one thing we need not fear - Jesus' indifference to our plight! Even though it may appear that Jesus is oblivious to our needs - that he is asleep at the wheel - we know that he remains in the boat with us and he will see us to the other side.

"He is there with us, the very presence of God promising to share our most perilous journeys."[12]

Jesus is with us, no matter how stormy the ride. Even when we do not perceive his care. Even when we accuse him of apathy: "Don't you care?"

Francois was right: Remember who is on the boat with you!

© Richard J. Vincent, 2009