Creekside Church Sermon of June 25, 2000 "Who Cares?" Mark 4:35-41	Rev. David Bibbee
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These are the questions we are most apt to ask when we find ourselves in the midst of a crisis, regardless of whether we are religious or not. As Christians, we affirm the declaration in the first verse of Mark's gospel, that Jesus is the Son of God. The challenge is this... If Jesus is Lord, why are there so many problems confronting us? If Jesus loves us so much, why all the hassles? It's perhaps the biggest obstacle Christianity has to overcome...the disparity between the God who is good and all the troubles around which we see.

Before we get to the core concern of this passage, it's important to know something about the times in which Mark was written. It was written during the latter half of the first century...during a time of severe persecution of Christians. To publicly identify with Christ would not result in a particularly easy existence. Those who were first to hear the gospel understood the hostile plot into which the fledgling little church was planted.

Jesus had chosen twelve disciples, and had just finished teaching the people with a string of parables. Little did the disciples know that they soon would become a parable themselves. "Let's go across to the other side," Jesus told them. It was evening when the crew of thirteen set sail. But no one bothered to check the marine forecast from the national weather service. If they had, they would have known about the noreaster headed their way.

Jesus loved these men. There was nothing he wouldn't do for them, so how did he demonstrate his deep affection? By leading them into the teeth of a life-threatening storm. Have you ever been in a little boat in big water during a windstorm? I have. You fight the wind trying to keep the boat perpendicular to the waves. If you get turned sideways the swells can flip the boat. I see the disciples being tossed on the sea like they were in a bathtub toy. The sails were shredded. They were taking on water. Some were writing final farewells to their wives and kids. This pleasure cruise with Jesus was fast becoming a maritime disaster.

And where is Jesus? There he is in the stern, curled up asleep! The disciples are seized by terror while Jesus sleeps like a baby. I would probably be screaming bloody murder with them. "How can you sleep when we're about to go under? Don't you care?"

Over the centuries there have been several Saint Teresas. I recall the story of one of them who had been on a long, difficult mission. While headed toward her next destination, she was walking along a riverbank. She misjudged her step and fell into the river. She was already tired and discouraged. Now she was muddy and soaking wet, and mad. Looking to the sky Theresa cried to God, "If this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!"

We understand. We accept Jesus' invitation to get into the boat. We want to be obedient to him. But then the wind and rain beat upon us. In our attempt to do right, things turn out wrong. "Jesus, I'm only doing what you told me to do. Things were going so well, but now look. I don't understand it, Jesus. Jesus? Jesus? Jesus, why are you sleeping? Do you care about what I'm going through?"

Saying yes to Jesus doesn't offer immunity from hardship. Nowhere does the Bible say that being a Christian is a leisurely cruise on Lake Placid. Read through the gospels and you'll see that stormy weather accompanied Jesus wherever he went. Being a Christian isn't a shield from cancer. It doesn't mean we won't ever find ourselves in the emergency room having to absorb the regrets of a doctor who says, "I'm sorry, but we did everything we possibly could." Today's text isn't just about disciples in peril on the sea. It's about us and the storms we must endure.

While tossed by the wind and waves, we tell each other that Jesus is with us. We say he is present with us through the storms and the stresses of life with a kindly sort of compassion...a kind of spiritual solidarity. But we want more than company until the storm warnings are lifted. The disciples wanted Jesus to do something.

In the disciple's perilous moment, Jesus didn't call them a bunch of crybabies. He didn't belittle the fear they felt, and he was more than concerned...he cared. He pronounced upon the storm the peace and calm that was within himself. "Peace, be still!" he said to the sea, and the raging waters turned smooth as glass. It is a symbolic way of saying that whether the storm we face is cancer, conflict, divorce, or death, Jesus cares enough for every person that he pronounces his peace upon us.

Flannery O'Conner will be remembered as one of the greatest southern writers of the past century. She also had a stormy life. She died in 1964 at the age of 39. The last fourteen years of her life were lived in constant pain from Lupus, Shingles, and bone disintegration. Yet as difficult as her last years were, they were also the most productive for her writing career. Speaking of those last years she said, "I have never been anywhere but sick. In a sense, sickness is a place more instructive than a long trip to Europe. Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing, and I think that those who don't have it miss one of God's mercies."

I don't know if Flannery O'Conner could account for how God enabled her to do it. Like the disciples, she was left wondering whether Christ cared. But she discovered that he did. Her storm didn't defeat her. Instead, she found his grace sufficient.

During the past four years I have learned how stormy life can be. I've experienced what it's like to be hit by the wind and waves. I didn't know what being faithful to God's call to lead this church through the changes necessary to face the future would mean. I didn't foresee nor was I prepared for the controversy, the conflict, and the accusations which members directed at each other and at me. I have been deeply saddened by the departure of those who decided they could no longer be part of our church because of disagreement over decisions and new directions. I heard myself saying, "Jesus, don't you care that we're perishing?"

His answer continues to be, "Yes." He said, "I never said it would be easy, only that it would be worth it." I believe that Christ not only cares for us in our present circumstances, but that he cares enough to do something about it. His action is evident in the sacrificial commitments which you have been inspired to make. It is evident by the fact that even though some of you are not in complete agreement with directions chosen, you remain committed to this body. You understand that issues are not our bond. Christ is. Though the sailing has been rough, you realize that we're in the boat together.

"We Walk by Faith" wasn't just a clever title for a capital campaign. It is our walk of life as Christians. It doesn't mean we won't get sidetracked or not need to regain our bearings. It doesn't mean there won't be mistakes or failures or there won't be times we need to ask for forgiveness of each other and God. Whether conditions are serene or stormy, the key for us is persistence.

Charlie Hough is a professional baseball player. He has pitched for several American League teams. The signature pitch which brought Charlie Hough fame is the knuckle ball. When this pitch is thrown correctly, it doesn't rotate. When the pitch is thrown well, no one can hit Charlie. When it is not, batters hold a clinic at his expense. Sports Illustrated did an interview with Charlie Hough in which he said, "If someone hits the knuckle ball five hundred feet, I throw the next one the same way and it will do something different." He said, "You are not in charge of what it does, you are only in charge of letting it go."

How does that old line go...? "Into every life a little rain must fall." What an understatement! Into every life the wind and waves and thunder and lightening will come. It's not a sign that Christ could care less. It's an occasion to demonstrate that He couldn't care more. What is required of us is that we not abandon ship; that we have faith in the Lord who calmed the winds and waves and will calm our storms as well; that we remain steadfast and hold the course and remember the importance of persistence because our lives are not our own. We are not in charge of what happens. We are in charge of letting our lives go.

The disciples cried to Jesus for help. He woke from a peaceful sleep, and he did. He spoke a word of peace to the sea, and turbulence turned to tranquility. There was no more need to fear. So why then were the disciples still afraid? Why no calm after the storm? What if the unexpected happens? What if God should intervene in some profound, unambiguous way? We cry for help, but much of the time we are determined to cope on our own. You know...God helps those who help themselves...that sort of thing. "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" Jesus said. Well, as a matter of fact, we don't, but are trying.

It comes down to meaning what we say...to really want what we pray for. Even as we pray for deliverance from the storm, we pray for deliverance from our self-control and self-imposed limitations we put upon what God can and cannot be and what, through him, we can or cannot do. It comes down to believing that God not only cares, but shows it by action. It comes down to matching our profession in God's provision with perseverance in response to the storms and failures we all will face.

Joseph Scriven was a man in love. His beloved Sarah was constantly on his mind. She was the first thought in the morning and the last at night. They were so enthralled with one another they could spend an entire day together with no agenda. Joseph was content to spend hours just looking into her eyes. He was absolutely devoted to her, so it was no surprise when Joseph and Sarah announced their engagement. Everyone who knew them in their hometown of Dublin, Ireland were happy for them. But days before their wedding Sarah went swimming with some friends. She dove into the lake, cracked her head on a submerged rock, and drowned.

Joseph was devastated. Nothing meant anything to him anymore. He slipped into a deep, deep depression. He would not eat. He stopped talking with his friends. He stopped going to church. One day, weak with despair, he walked to the meadow to an old hickory tree where he and Sarah had spent wonderful hours together. He fell to his knees and prayed, "Help me, dear God, to overcome my sorrow, trust the promise of eternity, and honor Sarah by restoring myself." With that he fell asleep.

When he woke he scribbled his thoughts on a piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. Several years passed when his mother discovered that wad of paper. After reading it, she sent it to a publisher; and because she did, we have become the benefactors of Joseph Scriven's prayer:

What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer.

Are we weak and heavy laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious savior, still our refuge,
Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Storms within and without are a given. Jesus said that, "In this world we will have much tribulation." But that is not all he said, for out of his great love he has also told us, "Be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world."

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