June 23, 2024

On Faith and Fear

I love those marvelous words of FDR spoken at the time our nation was in the Great Depression.  It was 1933.  The Depression worsened in the months preceding Roosevelt’s inauguration on March 4.  Many people have compared recent recessions with the Great Depression, but there really is no comparison.  Factory closings, farm foreclosures, and bank failures increased, while unemployment soared far beyond what we’ve seen in more recent times.  Roosevelt faced the greatest crisis in American history since the Civil War.  In his inaugural address, he said, “First of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself!” Those words are like the man who spoke them – strong, confident, reassuring.

They are not like the words Jesus uttered to his disciples in the boat, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”  Let me explain:

In verse 36 we read, “leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat . . . [and] A great windstorm arose”  Now, I’ve gotten into boats.  I can remember being with friends on a sailboat in two to three foot seas.  That’s not considered much by sailors, but it was plenty enough for me.  I remember the pounding of the boat against the waves as it dove into each trough.  When we changed course and the boat leaned, I thought I was going to lose my lunch.

I’ve never been in a boat in a serious storm.  I’ve heard plenty of stories about it, though.  I’ve heard friends tell of being out on the water with eight foot waves crashing over the bow in the darkness – the kind of seas that make veteran sailors fear for their lives.  I can hardly imagine being in that kind of storm at sea.

So, when I read here in Mark, “A great windstorm arose . . .” I can imagine a great storm.  This is no little heavy wind.  It says here, “the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped!”  Not only were the waves crashing over the bow, but the boat was about to sink!  That’s some storm.

Now get this.  Then it says, “But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion.”  He was asleep?  That’s one of the most amazing things I’ve encountered in scripture.  He was either an astonishingly great and soul-centered man, a narcoleptic, or a complete idiot!

“. . .and they woke him up.”  Now, think about that for a minute.  I have no idea how they did that.  If he could sleep through a raging storm that was tossing the boat around and about to sink it, what in the world could these guys do that would get his attention?

So Jesus wakes up, assesses the situation, quiets the raging seas, and utters this truly baffling phrase, “Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?”

“Why are you afraid?”  You’ve got to be kidding.  It seems rather obvious.  I’ve been in a boat in heavy winds.  I was scared to death when it was nothing like what’s described here.  “Why are you afraid?”

I’ve been frightened.  I was a police officer.  And if you think cops are never afraid, you’re mistaken.  I remember starting to wear a bullet-proof vest under my uniform because there was some nut-case going around shooting police officers.  I can remember high speed chases, trying to arrest a guy who was twice my size and drunk and resisting.  I remember ordering larceny suspects out of a car at gun-point. I remember going home after a long and stressful shift, so caught up in my fears that I had to go check on the children in their beds to make sure they were breathing.

I don’t blame the disciples for their fear.  I’ve been frightened.  I remember huddling in the living room with a transistor radio while hurricane Gloria came rumbling through.  And when it felt like the house was about to be reduced to rubble we went into the bathroom because it seemed like the sturdiest part of the structure.  We crouched there while a sixty foot maple tree in the back yard came crashing to the ground.  I don’t blame the disciples for their fear.

I doubt that you can either.  When the obstacles have seemed so large, and self doubt has crept up on you, so that you wonder what you are doing, or what you are going to do.  When the storms of life, of loss, of tragedy, of failure have moved in to blacken the sky overhead, and the winds of uncertainty have blown and piled up the waves like great walls, and all there seems below is a great, cold, black void, fathoms deep.  You’ve been frightened.

I remember when the sixth grade bully beat me up on the playground.  I told my dad about it.  His advice?  “The next time he comes after you, you just clean his clock – punch his lights out.”   The fact that this kid was nearly twice my size was to have no bearing on the situation.  Somehow, just saying, “don’t be afraid” doesn’t seem like good advice.

And Jesus doesn’t say, “don’t be afraid.”  He doesn’t offer some stirring words like, “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” or even, “fear not, the Lord shall be they confidence.”  He challenges me, and he challenges you with a mind-blowing question: “Why are you afraid?”

That’s the question.  It calls us to truly look at ourselves and come to terms with the source of our fears.  It’s not the sort of word you might hear from most of us preachers when you’re in the midst of a traumatic and painful experience.  We’re trained in seminary to try to hear and empathize with people’s fear and hurt.  It’s not considered the time to challenge them.

And Jesus was perfectly able to empathize with the disciples.  His amazing ability to sleep through a raging storm at sea notwithstanding, Jesus was capable of knowing fear.  He certainly demonstrated that on the night before he was crucified, in the garden of Gethsemane.  He prayed, and sweated, and trembled, and asked to be let out of this terrible situation.  He knew.  He knew what it’s like to live in a terrifying world.  But he still put it to the disciples, “Why are you afraid?”

“Why are you afraid?”  It’s a question that directs us to the very heart of our faith.  The things that we fear are real.  There are more things to fear than just fear itself.  But it can be terribly important to ask ourselves what it is that lives at the deepest heart of our fear.  We might say we fear losing our job, or getting cancer, or having something awful happen to someone we love, or just about anything else.  But if we search diligently enough, we may discover other, deeper fears that fuel the more routine and daily fears.  Are we afraid of death, or are we afraid of what death might be?  Are we afraid of losing income, or are we afraid of losing the routines and titles that give us something to cling to for security?  Are we afraid of global catastrophe, or are we afraid of losing the future, thus rendering the past meaningless?  In the final analysis, most of our deepest fears boil down to the fear of what the universe and our place in it would be if there were no hope, no grace, no divine providence.

I think that’s why Jesus startled the disciples with what sounded like a foolish question.  He was turning the disciples’ experience upside down.  In essence, he was saying, “You think you’re afraid of the storm?  Why are you really afraid?”  I think he challenged the root of their fear because that’s the only point there is to make, and the only way to make it!  Faith is not a magic elixir to make our fears vanish into thin air, but at a deep, existential level, faith is the opposite of our greatest, most profound fear.  Faith is that connection with the heart of the universe that grabs us by the shirt collar and tells us existence is not arbitrary and capricious; it is an expression of divine intention.  And there’s something about that way of approaching life that turns things upside down!

Because of the reality of grace, the world doesn’t always work the way we think it does.  Just when we are at the end of our resources, and we’ve no place left to turn, the answer comes from the least expected place with no warning.  The very thing you think is least likely to happen may well be the Divine plan.  The irresponsible slacker, sleeping in the boat while a storm rages may just be the one who can, astonishingly, quiet the waters.

The world is full of miracles; we are surrounded by miracle-workers, and we usually don’t know it simply because we’re not looking for them.  When you run out of options, another option can be created for you out of thin air.  When you are most alone, you discover the wondrous healing touch of a friend.

You see, either we’re just going through the motions here, or this entire universe, along with each one of us, is resting in ultimately powerful, perfectly loving, and eternally abiding hands.  And that makes all the difference.

To live by faith may not be to walk blithely through our days unaffected by the storms that rage, but it is to wrest from life at least a modicum of the peace that comes from knowing that the world is upside down, that storms can be stilled when that’s the last thing we expect, that the Lord of Life is in charge, even though it seems like there’s no one minding the store.

Every once in a while it’s important to remind ourselves that we are not among those who live without hope, and that our hope is built on a sure foundation.  Whatever disturbs you, whatever dismays you, whatever keeps you awake at night, whatever gnaws at your insides, whatever causes you to worry and fret, whatever your fear, here is my word to you this morning: There may be a surprise in store for you.  So look for it, be patient, be ready.  And maybe ask yourself: “Why are you afraid?”