and your storm arrives…
Look up Mark 4:39–41 on your bible app. This one is for you… The storm came quickly, and it came fierce. The kind of storm that strips any fisherman of his confidence, no matter how many years he’s spent with the sea beneath his feet. In this drama, the disciples weren’t weekend sailors looking for some spare cash – they were men born with salt in their veins, so to speak. Nets in their hands before they could write their names. They had grown up trusting their skill, their strength, their instincts. But that night, with the wind like a Netflix drama, howling like a thousand voices and the sea rising up, thundering and smashing against them, even seasoned fishermen were out of their depth.
And in the stern of the boat, the Son of God slept.
Slept.
You can almost see it. Feel it. Hear it. Rain lashing against their faces, wood creaking under pressure, hearts pounding with fear. Every man doing all he can to steady the boat, yet glancing back over ‘there’, toward the one with head down, who sleeps and the silence from Jesus must have been deafening. They had seen Him heal lepers, cast out demons and speak with authority that made scholars tremble, but now? Well, He sleeps and in their panic, it feels like indifference.
Perhaps you’ve known that silence. Perhaps you can hear it now. Today. When the storm in your life surges, when the future feels like a dark sea with no shoreline in sight, and the One you’ve trusted seems hidden, quiet, unmoved – that’s the moment the disciples faced and maybe that’s you today, even as you read this.
They had not yet grasped who was in the boat with them. Not really. Not fully.
If they had, they might have remembered that the sea itself was His idea, that wind and wave have no will of their own apart from His. Yet fear has a way of shrinking our faith and magnifying the storm. It makes us forget the power in our company. We cry out, “Don’t you care if we perish?” when the truth is, He is the only reason we will not.
Church leaders (as you may be aware) know this too, walking the walk, talking the talk, doing the works of ministry — and yet, when storms come, they discover they’ve been leaning on their own seamanship. Skilled, trained, diligent – and still afraid. That should not be so. Here’s the gospel: it doesn’t end there. What we lack in strength, He makes up in sovereignty. Where we fail to hold fast, He remains unshaken. Never underestimate the gospel.
There is something holy about that moment when they finally shake Him awake. A trembling, desperate hand on His shoulder—who touched Him? Yet unlike the woman with the issue of blood, He does not stop to ask. Her touch was faith reaching for healing. Theirs was fear reaching for survival. Not the same, but still a touch. Still a cry. Still enough. The storm roaring. The boat lurching. Just one touch, one desperate nudge, and the silence of heaven is broken. It was right to wake Him. What we always need—whether in calm or chaos—is Him. Always Him.
And He rises. No scrambling, no grasping for rope or oar. He speaks. That’s all. Words cutting through the howl of the storm like a blade: “Peace! Be still!” And creation bends immediately to His voice. The sudden silence was a roaring, tumultuous cacophony – full of majesty, awe, and power.
That there, is one of the best sentences I have ever written!
That boat ride was never about testing their skill. It was about showing them, up close, who He really is. They thought they were fighting to save Him along with themselves. He was the only one who could save them, and He still is.
If discouragement has wrapped itself around you like that storm, if you feel the silence of heaven while the waves rise higher – know this: He has not abandoned the boat. He may sleep, but He does not slumber as men do. His rest is not neglect, but authority. He is Lord even when He is silent.
The truth is simple though never easy to swallow, you are never the hero of your own story. You cannot calm the storm, but you can reach out, shake Him, cry out His name – and that touch, that prayer, that act of desperate faith, will find Him more than able. When He stands, the storm has no choice but to bow.