Rev. Dr. James Goodlet…Biblical Odyssey: The Storm and the Sleep

Sunday Worship - FPC LaGrange - July 19th, 2026

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:03

Well, there's an interesting phenomenon that I've noticed over the years. And if I'm being honest about it, I can relate to it. If you talk to somebody who's going to say Europe or Asia or Australia or Africa, you might hear them say, I've heard people say, I've said it myself, I'm really excited about the trip. I'm just not as excited about that flight. And you say, why? Why not? And some of them will say, Well, it's just so long to get there, it takes me forever. But what I've heard quite often is this response. I just don't like crossing the ocean. Have you heard that before? Or have you said that? Do you feel that? Whoa. I can relate to it. If you think about it logically, I guess it doesn't really make a lot of sense. If I'm breaking this down correctly, the thought or the fear is that if the plane were to go down, you'd rather it be over land than over water. Because at least when you're over land, if I'm teasing this out correctly, when you're over land, you have options. You might be able to bail out to a runway. Or you might be able to bail out to an interstate or a field somewhere. There's an escape hatch when it comes to land. Water? Not so much. If you have a problem over the water, you can't just take it left and go to Fiji or Iceland. And yes, I'm sure that the pilots who attend this church are saying, oh, precious James, you're so naive. Or the flight attendants or the people in airport infrastructure, whatever it is y'all do, are probably thinking, that's nice. But from an average passenger's perspective, it feels as though once you're over water, you're committed. And you are on your own. Now, logically, again, if you're going to go down, it doesn't really matter if it's water or land, it's going to hurt. But I think there's something about flying over that deep blue expanse of nothing that makes people anxious. Because once you're over it, it feels like, it feels like you're out of control. And you entertain your worst fears. If you go down and you're in the ocean, you have nothing above you, and then you have God knows what lurking beneath. And I think it ultimately boils down to something very simple, very primal, and very relatable. Water can be terrifying. We can connect to the fear then that the disciples were feeling, that a storm closes in on opening on open water. One of our kids said that when a storm closes in like that and you are on the water, panic sets in, and that is exactly right. If you've ever been on a body of water and you're trying to outrun a storm, you understand the sheer lack of control that you can sense in your bones as the lightning starts to crash around you. Any power that we thought that we had is erased when water starts to move and rise. Because we know in our heart of hearts, water always wins. And yet, even still, he slept. Now think about that story. I mean, it probably I looked absurd telling it to the kids. But think about the story itself. On the surface of it, that story, it seems absolutely ridiculous. You have sheer chaos that is happening on that boat. The boat, the mates, everybody is rowing, trying to save their lives. There's a huge windstorm. The waves are crashing against the boat. They're right in the middle of this body of water, and there he was the whole time on the stern, the boat, in the middle of everything, sleeping. He apparently doesn't have any care in the world. He is completely at ease with the circumstances. Even though this is a group of very seasoned fisherfolk, they have been on the water a lot. A lot, a lot. It was their livelihood. They know when things are bad. And for them, this storm was bad. Bad enough that they felt like that their fishing skills were nothing against the power of this storm. And yet there he was, right in the middle of it all. And he thought, you know what, this is a great time to catch a few winks. I feel like I've heard over the years this story. You've heard this story before, probably. If not, you're leveling with me on how absurd it actually seems on the surface of it. But I've heard this story interpreted a certain way. And I've done it myself over the years. It goes something like this: well, that no matter what storm it is that we face in our lives, don't be afraid. Just don't be afraid. If you're afraid, then you have no faith. So don't do it. In fact, Jesus, it's translated a little bit differently, but Jesus in the Greek in verse 40 actually calls them cowards. That's extreme. Cowards. Stand strong, have faith, the lesson seems to be, and God will calm your storms. That is the interpretation I've heard about this story over the years. But I'm going to be honest with you, I think that's a little bit harsh. What can we honestly expect? When the storms are raging around you, do we really expect not to feel a little bit of fear? Are we supposed to think that when the waves are crashing all against our boat, that we will be saved if we pray? See, I wonder if there's something different going on in this story. I wonder if the ultimate fear in this story is that while the storm rages on, Jesus is asleep. While the storm rages on, our cries fall on deaf ears. While the storm rages on, God is utterly unconscious and unaware of our cry for help. Or that God isn't even there. That's the fear. If you hadn't heard this before or noticed it before, look up.

SPEAKER_00 8:58

What does that look like? The roof. It looks like a boat. It looks like the hole of a boat.

SPEAKER_01 9:14

That's intentional. We sang to open our worship service the naval hymn. As in knave, which is what this area of the sanctuary, we call that word the narthex. Back there, that room, the most churchy word ever, narthex. But this is called the knave, as in navy, as in boat, because churches are intentionally architected in a way that it is made to look like the hole of a boat. Because we are, as it were, the vessels ferrying the people of God through life. That you'll never look at that the same way again if you hadn't thought of that before. But there's one issue I have with that image, which I get it. But there's only one problem I have with this. It's facing the wrong way. The boat, the hole, is overturned. We are taking on water in this image. You could interpret this like we are a sinking ship, a shipwrecked vessel, crying out to the heavens for God to overturn and save us. And sometimes we wonder in our heart of hearts if those cries fall on deaf or sleeping ears. And that brings me back to an interesting part of the story. It's so minute, it's so tiny, little elements, but it's unique to Mark's telling of this story. And it says this they left the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat just as he was, all that, okay, fine. And then it says this other boats were with him. Other boats were with him. Which means that there were other boats out there that were facing the same storm. There were other boats out there seeking to navigate that same existential crisis. Everybody in Jesus' boat, they were navigating other boats, other people were questioning and wondering whether or not they were going to survive the storm, whether God heard them, whether God was actually capable of subduing the storm. And it made me think, well, maybe that means that we who think we are alone, when it comes to enduring the storms of life, we who think we are alone when it comes to asking questions of a God whom we fear is sleeping, we who think we are alone because we're the only boat in the water are not. There are other vessels out there struggling just as we are. And this is what's the beauty of the Christian message. God isn't removed, God isn't out there. God isn't distant from us while we are fighting in the storm, but God is actually in the boat with us. God is with us, and we are not the only boat on the water. And what Jesus wants most for us, what Jesus hopes that we will realize amid everything, what Jesus wants to relieve from our shoulders ultimately is fear. And it's not to say that we won't be afraid, it's not to say that we never do get afraid, it's not to say that we don't experience fear, but what Jesus wants to make very clear is that fear, like water, does not always win. It will not capsize this vessel, it will not overturn and sink this ship. It's why I believe he was asleep, not because he was completely aloof to their problems, not because he was ignoring them altogether, but because he was demonstrating his utter and sincere belief that nothing could ever rock his boat, not any storm, not any wave, and certainly not fear, and he wants the same for us. Not only as individuals, but as the body of Christ on a body of water. I know it's easier said than done. I know fear I know it all too well.

SPEAKER_00 14:52

You do too.

SPEAKER_01 14:58

We know the storms in our own lives that we fear will sink us. The storm of culture wars, the storms of cancer, the disease, the storm of polar polarization, the storms of a changing world, the storms of addiction, the storm of anxiety and depression, the storm of am I going to meet the bottom line on the budget sheet? The storm of decreasing influence as a people of faith. These storms are real, and we really experience fear because of them. But I'm telling you that we are not the only boat on the water. And I don't believe that Jesus is merely sleeping on the stern while these storms rage on. But he knows that they cannot and will not overtake us, and that this vessel, this vessel, will survive. Death has no power here. There is no sinking ship. The waters will subside. And the question is not, will we or won't we be afraid? The question is, what are we going to do with that fear? Will we let it capsize us or will we close our eyes and rest in the sure and certain knowledge that God is with you and us in the storm? We cannot allow fear to chart our course. Water can be terrifying. But sometimes it takes a crossing to see what's on the other side.