I preached this sermon on Mark 4:33-41 at First Presbyterian SF on September 4, 2022.
Jesus is Sleeping in the Boat
When I was a senior in high school, my mom was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer, everybody started praying. Our little church started praying intensely. People were telling their friends and churches all over the country to pray for my mom. At one point, we reckoned hundreds of people all over the world were praying for my mom to be healed. Praying for a miracle, praying for this “storm” to end.
And it never did. I remember her reading this passage and others like it and asking “What about me? Where’s my miracle?” She believed in these stories about Jesus two thousand years ago, but when she looked at her own storm, well, it felt like Jesus was sleeping in her boat.
A lot of us have been in that place. Our metaphorical boat is in the middle of our metaphorical storm, and we cry out to Jesus and…nothing.
For whatever reason, God has chosen to make First Pres a suffering community. Many of us, most of us, are going through long storms. Within our small church, we have storms that are physical, emotional, mental, financial, relational, spiritual, and occupational. Many of us have some sort of deep brokenness in our lives that we desperately want to see changed, and many of us have been crying out to God for years. And we’re still broken. So what do we do when it seems like Jesus is sleeping in our boat?
Tonight, we’re not really going to look at Jesus calming the storm, because honestly, it’s the least interesting thing that’s going on in this passage. Instead, we’re going to focus on the other three miracles in this text. We’re going to look at the miracle of the incarnation, the miracle of faith and the miracle of grace to people who have nothing. We’re going to see how these three miracles of the incarnation, faith, and grace are being applied to the disciples, and how they’re being applied to us each and every day, whether he calms the storm or not. And we’ll find that despite what we may think, Jesus is not sleeping in our boat.
First Miracle: God in the Boat
Let’s start by looking at the first part of Jesus’ response, verse 40: “Why are you so afraid?”
“Why are you so afraid?” What a weird thing for Jesus to say. Let me tell you why the disciples are so afraid: They have years of experience which tells them this is a bad situation. The wind, the waves, the sky, these are all facts that all point to one thing–they are about to drown. Soon, their boat will sink, a wave will push them under the water, and they will asphyxiate as they slowly sink to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee. Those are the facts.
But, somehow, Jesus sees all of these facts, but comes to a completely different conclusion. There’s no need to fear.
So, what are the disciples missing? The disciples think the miracles started when Jesus calmed the storm. But they missed the first miracle. The first miracle actually happens in verse 36: “they took him with them in the boat, just as he was”
This isn’t just a logistical detail before we get to the exciting stuff–this is the miracle of the Incarnation! And it changes everything.
Jesus, the eternal Son of God, the one through whom everything was made, the one who upholds the universe by the word of his power, is in the tiny, ancient, wooden boat on a dangerous sea.
Verse 38 makes the situation even more surprising: “but he was in the stern asleep on the cushion.” The disciples get bummed out about this, but it really is a wondrous miracle itself. The Alpha and the Omega, the Lord of the Cosmos, has put himself in a tiny human body that gets tired and worn out from traveling and public speaking. In order to save us, the infinite one subjects himself to a body that needs a nap.
The disciples get upset at Jesus for this. Instead, they should be falling on their knees in wonder that such a man is in their boat to begin with.
The disciples only see the danger this little boat is in–they don’t see who is in the boat. The God-Man in the boat changes everything–but the disciples don’t even recognize it. Do we?
We’ll briefly talk about three practical ways this miracle of “God in our boat” plays out in how we work, in how we pray, and how we suffer.
First, the miracle of the Incarnation in your work. For software engineers like myself, the incarnation means that when we sit down to code, Jesus is pair programming with us.
If you’re in retail, when you’re dealing with that obnoxious customer–Jesus is right there with you behind the counter.
Nursing, administration, art, homemaking, finance, Jesus is doing that with you. If you’re retired or not working–Jesus is doing that with you too. If you’re doing ministry and getting burned out and tired, Jesus is striving in ministry alongside you. And when your burdens overwhelm you and all you can do is come home and crash on the couch–well, this passage tells us that Jesus was great at naps. Jesus even joins his exhausted servants in their exhausted rest.
Whatever it is that you do, Jesus is doing it with you. This means that your work is holy, no matter how “secular” you think it is, no matter how mundane you think it is. Are you bringing the full impact of Jesus’ presence into your workplace? This week, as you go about doing what you do, think about how Jesus is doing that with you. Think about how that changes everything you do in your workplace.
The incarnation also transforms our prayer lives. What did the disciples do when they were about to die in the boat? There was no elaborate ritual, they didn’t clean themselves up or try to think holy thoughts until they felt good enough–no! They turn around and say, “Hey Jesus, give me a hand!” Even though we don’t have access to Jesus in the flesh, we have that same level of intimacy with him when we are suffering. And even while the storm is still raging, even when all the facts seem to say that God is absent or asleep, the miracle of the incarnation tells us that actually, God is so near, so available when we pray. Call to Him! He is right there, right there in your boat.
Finally, the incarnation also completely changes the trajectory of our sufferings. Romans 6 says that “If we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” The logic goes like this: Jesus came in the flesh, suffered and died on the cross. We are in the flesh, and we suffer as well. This means we’re united to Christ as our suffering mixes up with Jesus’ suffering. And since we’re all mixed up with Jesus through our suffering, that means we get all mixed up in his resurrection life as well.
No matter how dark of a road your suffering takes you on, Jesus is not only suffering with you, but guaranteeing you his own resurrection life, partially on this earth, and fully when we enter glory. Because Jesus is dying in the boat with us now, we get to live in heaven with him in eternity.
The constant miracle in the Christian life is that the Word has been made flesh and is dwelling in you through his Spirit. No matter who you are or what you have done, if you are in Christ, that miracle of incarnation is happening to you each and every moment. That miracle is happening right now! Even if it’s not dramatic. Even if you don’t feel it. Don’t miss this miracle like the disciples did! And whether or not He stops the storm, the author of life is in your boat breathing new life into you from the inside out. Always.
When you’re in the midst of the storm and it feels like Jesus is sleeping, remember how Jesus has turned everything upside down with his presence. You can look at the data around you–the terror of the storm, the pain, the uncertainty, the tragedy. These things are all real. But here’s the only fact that really matters: Jesus is Lord of the Cosmos, Lord of the spiritual world, Lord of sickness and health and sovereign over everything. And He is in your boat.
Why are you so afraid?
Second Miracle: The Creation of Faith
If you’ve been through significant suffering, you’ll know that all these words can ring hollow after a while. This is the situation my mom was in. She knew Jesus was in some sense “in her boat,” but it didn’t seem to be making a difference. Is God really with you when He’s not making any changes in your situation after so many years?
When the cancer gets worse or your earnest prayer keeps going unanswered, the head knowledge that Jesus is “with you” isn’t going to cut it. What we need in those times is a deeply rooted faith that can honestly reckon with the harsh realities of life, but still cling to Jesus, even when everything else is falling apart. Faith is the key to not just knowing about Jesus’ incarnational reality, but fully living in it in the midst of suffering. Faith is what takes the doctrine of the Incarnation from your head, and plants it deep in your heart.
This leads us to the second miracle in the text: the creation of deep faith.
Let’s look at verse 40 again. After Jesus asks the disciples why they’re afraid in a life-or-death situation, he asks, “Have you still no faith?” Think about that. These guys have been hanging out with Jesus, hearing him teach, watching him heal. Verse 34 says they’re getting private lessons from Jesus. Their heads are filled with knowledge about Jesus. And yet Jesus says they don’t have an ounce of faith.
They need God Himself to create faith in them! They need a miracle to take their head knowledge about Jesus and turn that into real, living faith.
One of the primary characteristics of deep faith is that it doesn’t make any sense. My favorite author G.K. Chesterton says that hope and faith are always unreasonable. He says: “Hope means hoping when things are hopeless, or it is no virtue at all. And faith means believing the incredible, or it is no virtue at all.” He continues, “Only when it ceases to be reasonable does it begin to be useful.” In other words, hope and faith don’t mean anything unless there is no good reason to have hope or faith. Faith is only useful if it’s completely and utterly un-reasonable.
When the disciples get into the boat, they have a very reasonable faith–or as Jesus says, no faith at all. Imagine if someone had said to Peter as he climbed into the boat, “Hey man, you sure about the weather? How much do you trust this Jesus guy?” I imagine Peter rolling his eyes. “Pfft. You do know that I was one of the first people he called, right? I’ve probably seen him heal three hundred people at this point. Yeah, I trust him all right. I trust him more than anybody!”
And then the storm comes and their reasonable faith is met with an unreasonable situation. They might say on shore, “Jesus loves me, this I know”, but out on the water that turns into accusation: “don’t you care that we’re dying?” The crisis of the storm exposes their faith for what it actually is: an empty intellectual abstraction. But praise God! God loves them too much to let their faith be just an intellectual abstraction.
In this moment of failure, real faith is being formed in them. Later on in the disciple’s lives, they’re going to be on another boat in another storm. Jesus will come walking on the water, and Peter will get out the boat and walk towards him. Peter has real, unreasonable faith in that storm because he saw Jesus come through in this storm. Peter’s baby faith in that later storm only exists because Jesus was sleeping in this one.
Eventually, nearly everyone in this boat is going to be martyred for their faith in Jesus. Their faith is going to be so strong and so unreasonable that the reality of their pain and torture is nothing compared to the glorious reality of their savior. That unshakeable faith didn’t just pop out of nowhere. It started right here, in this boat. Even as the disciples accuse Jesus of not caring, he is miraculously creating in them an unreasonable faith.
Even the disciples who spent a long time walking with Jesus need a miracle for them to have faith. Even Christians who have spent a long time walking with Jesus need a miracle for us to have faith. And that miracle is often delivered in the shape of a storm.
It’s easy to believe God is good when things are good. It’s easy to believe that God is love when you feel loved and secure. Storms put all of that to the test. And, that’s the point! Reasonable situations create faith that is only reasonable. Unreasonable situations create faith that is real.
Martyn Lloyd-Jones says that we usually think about faith like a thermostat: You dial in your preferred faith level and then when things start to get hard, your faith automatically kicks in. No, he says. Faith is like a muscle. It needs to be trained.
You can’t grow your muscles just by reading about nutrition and exercise. You don’t get fit just by thinking about it. Trust me–I’ve thought an awful lot about getting fit. If you want bigger muscles, if you want to be in better shape, you need to actually exercise. You need to use your muscles if you want them to grow.
Faith is the same way. You’re not going to grow your faith just by reading theology or trying to be Godly. No, faith needs to be built. It needs to be trained and exercised and used. It needs to be tested and tried, because that’s the only way it grows. Tests of our faith create faith.
Christian, Jesus loves you too much to let your faith be just an intellectual abstraction! Do you want a deep faith and an unshakeable hope? These things don’t just magically appear when you become a Christian. Faith and hope are forged in storms.
So as you call out to Jesus to stop the storm and it feels like he’s sleeping in the boat…He is not asleep. He’s not ignoring you. Far from it! Jesus is creating the faith in you that He created in the disciples. Jesus is actually training in you an unreasonable, unshakeable faith that’s accepted not only by your head, but your heart. And as God pushes you to the brink of hopelessness, He is creating hope itself.
Third Miracle: Grace to People who Have Nothing
So, we’ve looked at the miracle of the Incarnation, we’ve looked at the miracle of God creating and strengthening faith. The final wondrous thing Jesus does in this passage that isn’t calming the storm is a demonstration of incredible grace. And the way he demonstrates this miraculous grace…is by taking everything away.
When Jesus gets in the boat and tells the disciples to go to the other side, they have something to offer him. He’s not a sailor, but they are! He doesn’t have a boat, but they do! Leave the preaching and the miracles to Jesus, the sea is the disciple’s wheelhouse.
But then, the storm strips the disciples of anything they thought they could offer Jesus. Before the storm, they were experienced sailors who could at the very least manage Jesus’ charter boat. The storm proves that, in actuality, they have nothing. They had one thing they could give to Jesus, and they blew it.
And here’s the miracle: Jesus saves them anyways. They tried to do something for Jesus, and they failed. And Jesus saves them anyways. Their faith is zero. And Jesus saves them anyways. Humanly speaking, they are complete failures at being Jesus’ chauffeurs, much less his disciples. And Jesus saves them anyways.
In this storm, the disciples are being trained in the doctrine of Grace Alone. Their faith is starting to be transferred from their own abilities and works and to Jesus’ abilities and works. They’re learning that they have nothing to offer–and Jesus has everything to offer.
Gospel faith can really come alive in prolonged storms. I was complaining to Chris sometime last year. I was telling him “I thought that suffering for so long was supposed to make me better. ‘Suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope’ But it doesn’t feel like that. Through this storm, I feel like I have less hope, less character, and less faith than ever before” I’ll never forget his gentle, tender pastoral response: “AMEN BROTHER!”
What did he mean by that? He meant that as I was being united to Christ in suffering, I was finally starting to understand grace. In the storm I was complaining about then (which is still raging), God took away my wife’s health, our flexibility, our energy. God even took away our ministry to college students. My faith was shaken and steadfast and patient man I thought I was, well that turned out to be a sham. Everything I thought was good about myself, everything I thought I had to offer Jesus–he took that away.
Chris was rejoicing because I had finally realized that I had nothing to offer. No goodness, no virtue, not even a strong faith. And yet…Jesus saved me anyways. The storm cracked open the gospel for me in a way that a life of ease and comfort never could.
Martin Luther said “It is impossible for a person not to be puffed up by his good works unless he has first been deflated and destroyed by suffering.” Do you feel deflated and destroyed by your storm? Then amen, brothers and sisters! That is the Gospel at work in you, taking your head knowledge of the Gospel and turning it into heart knowledge. Do you feel like at this point in your storm, you have nothing left? Then amen! He is mercifully taking away everything else that you have hope in, so that your only hope would be in Him.
Conclusion
Five years into my mom’s cancer, it spread to her brain. At church the next Sunday, she gets down on her knees and begs God to heal her.
And God speaks. Finally, after five years of suffering, God audibly and unmistakably answers her when she asks for healing. But He says, “No.”
God told her “I’m not going to heal you…but I’m going to be with you.” Or, in the language we’ve been using today, “I’m not going to stop the storm, but I’m in your boat, and we’re going down together. “
Jesus didn’t miraculously calm my mom’s storm. But like I said at the beginning, calming the storm is actually the least interesting miracle on display here. She didn’t get that miracle, but she sure got access to the others we talked about tonight: the incarnation, the creation and deepening of faith, and grace to people who have nothing.
She experienced the joys of the Incarnation: Jesus was right next to her in the chemo infusion room and holding her tight in the radiation chamber. Napping with her when the brain fog got too much.
Her faith was sharpened and flourished as God gave her the eyes to see past her death and into Jesus’ glory.
And as cancer took everything away, she received grace after grace as she was forced to rely on Jesus and Jesus alone. At one point early on, she had hope that Jesus would calm her storm. Now, she only had hope in Jesus Himself.
My mom had access to all the miracles that the disciples did. And so do we.
When we cry out to God for years and years and our storm isn’t being stopped, Jesus isn’t sleeping in your boat–He is living in you and even dies with you so that you can live with him forever.
Jesus isn’t sleeping in your boat–He is creating faith…even in a postmodern San Franciscan like you! He’s growing and training you in an unreasonable faith that this city desperately needs.
Jesus isn’t sleeping in your boat–He is teaching you to look past yourself, to look past the storm, and see Him and Him alone.
Maybe he’s not giving you the miracle you want, but He’s giving you His very self.
One day, Jesus will return. He will make all things new. And the victorious Jesus will say to all creation “Peace, be still!” and every storm in the cosmos will stop dead in its tracks.
But until then, “we look not to the things that are seen, but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”
Christian, where is your hope? Is your hope that you will see your prayers answered? Or is your hope in the One Who Hears them? Where is your faith? Is your faith that you will see Jesus will calm your storm? Or is your faith in Jesus?
Brothers and sisters, don’t just put your hope in the storm ending. Yes, pray for that! Plead for God to act on this side of eternity! But don’t put your hope in your problems being solved. Put your hope in the one who is in your boat. Put your hope in the one who loves you too much to let your faith be just an intellectual abstraction. Put your hope in the one who is worth all the suffering.