“Dad’s Army” is one of my favourite old TV series.  When I realised what today’s Gospel reading was, I could hear Corporal Jones saying, “Don’t panic!”  Not to Captain Manwairing or to me, but to the disciples.  For it seems that’s what they did when their boat began to fill with water on the squally Sea of Galilee.  What their panic reveals is a lack of trust in God’s presence, even though His Son was right there in the boat with them.  Except he was asleep, tired out from a demanding day, which ironically displays how much trust he had in them, to be that comfortable in their presence.    

If you have been to Israel, you’ll know that the Sea of Galilee is a sight to behold.  It’s actually a large fresh-water lake, which is about 14 miles long and 8½ miles wide.  The Jordan River flows into it, fed by springs near Mount Hermon and, in summer, by melting snow.  The Jordan flows out on its journey south to the Dead Sea and on the eastern shore, the Golan heights rise high above it.  To this day, it’s still a productive source of fish, though fish farms help supply the needs of Israel’s growing population.  And because the lake’s fresh water is extensively used for irrigation, there is mounting concern that the level is dropping. 

On a good many days at sundown, a storm whips up Lake Galilee, turning its usually smooth waters to large white caps and swells in just a few minutes.  (It’s a phenomena that I have witnessed and I was amazed at how quickly it can happen.  Fortunately for the group I was with, it was after we’d disembarked from the relative safety of a modern wooden boat named “SS Matthew” (there are no prizes for guessing what the others in the fleet are called!) 

Four of Jesus’ disciples were professional fishermen who likely knew Lake Galilee ‘like the back of their hand’ and had many years of practical experience handling a boat in all weathers.  Yet despite all their preparedness and skill, the storm presented a real danger to their first-century sailing boat.  It was taking water and they feared the worst. 

It’s worth remembering that the power of the sea is often used in the Bible as a symbol of chaos and that ‘the deep’ is often viewed as the home of forces alien to God.  We’re told in the book of Genesis, chapter 1, verse 2, how the Spirit of God tamed the waters at creation, whilst Psalm 89 verse 10 makes use of the old myth that saw the sea as the home of the monster of chaos, Rahab.  The prophet Isaiah (chapter 59, verse 9) associates the same myth with God’s victory over the sea at the Exodus.  Both Moses and Elijah were associated with command over seas and rivers (in Exodus 14 and 2 Kings 2.8). 

So Jesus stilling the storm is a sure sign of his power over it.  It is Jesus, who now reveals God’s total redeeming power over the deep.  Just as the people of old spoke of God stilling the raging of the waves and saving those in danger on the sea, in this instance the disciples saw Jesus doing the same things:  he tamed those natural powers which terrified them.  Now, at last, life could go on in peace. 

In his wider ministry, Jesus had calmed the storms in the lives of those he had healed and those he had delivered from evil, but the disciples hadn’t fully grasped the significance of these calmings. 

This story shows us how slowly and painfully the disciples progressed.  They had left everything to follow him.  For some time, they’d listened to his teaching and witnessed his power to heal.  They’d acknowledged him as their master.  But the storm on Lake Galilee seems to have blown away everything they’d learnt.  “Where is your faith?” asked Jesus.  Sheer panic had driven trust from their hearts. 

It was only when Jesus rebuked the wind and the waves that the disciples were prompted to ask who he is.  Their understanding is gradual.  This isn’t the only time they had failed in faith and understanding.  But the good news is, even though Jesus rebuked them, he persevered with them and continued to entrust his mission to them. 

Apart from anything else we might take away with us this morning, this is very important:  however many times we fail to trust in God and Jesus’ power to save us in the chaos and disorder and storms in our own lives, He is there.  The God we see in Jesus is a stiller of storms; he longs for harmony in the world and peace for us all, in our hearts. 

You may ask, so why isn’t the God who through Jesus stilled the storm more obviously at work in the world today?  It’s a question that’s notoriously hard to answer but our faith does offer us ways forward. 

Storms in our own lives can all too easily undermine our trust in God and make us panic - like Corporal Jones - and the disciples.  But the disciples are rebuked for their lack of faith, they’re not rebuked for calling out in their genuine need.  So when our lives are swamped by chaos or suffering of various kinds, it’s far worse to turn away from God in bitter silence than to cry out in faith (even mingled with anger - God can take it).  We may then know some lessening of the storm about us or it may be that as the storm continues we are drawn deeper into the trusting relationship with God which we see in Jesus, who in this storm lies asleep like a child and trusts the Father through worse storms yet to come.

As we look beyond our own lives to the storms in God’s world, it may help to remember that what we often call ‘miracles’ are also known as ‘signs’.  Signs point to something greater than themselves:  when Jesus healed, fed hungry crowds, or calmed a storm, he was pointing to something greater, a foretaste of God’s kingdom of lasting well-being, justice and peace. 

This is what John, the writer of today’s epistle reading is pointing to.  His visionary writing - his prophetic revelation reveals heavenly secrets, where God’s sovereignty is fully acknowledged in heaven.  God’s rule in heaven is the true reality which must in the end prevail on earth. 

It’s hard to pick our way through all these thrones and precious stones and elders and robes and golden crowns and flaming torches and living creatures full of eyes.  Put simply, John is taken up to heaven where he sees God’s throne as the ultimate reality behind all earthly signs of His presence.  ‘The voice’ is that of the exalted Christ himself.  And here again, there is reference to flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder yet the sea is described as a sea of glass, like crystal - possibly, because it’s seen from above and possibly signifying that it is under God’s rule. 

And here too in this reading is our ultimate song of praise:  “Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come.”  Our earthly worship is modelled after heavenly worship, when we make this proclamation together in our Eucharistic prayer.  We need to worship together to sustain our relationship with the stiller of the storm. 

The whole book of Revelation urges us as believers to ‘overcome’ or ‘conquer’ our current situations in the present and attempts to move us to the New Jerusalem.  Because He is the Creator, God can be expected to renew his whole creation in the end: “See, I am making all things new” (says Revelation 21.5).  In the Spirit, John is told, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true”. 

So in our daily praying for the coming of God’s kingdom, there is both pain and confidence:  pain because of the world’s continuing storms, and the continuing storms in our own lives; yet confidence because in Jesus, God has stilled storms and the world - and we - are in His hands.  Sharing in the prayer of Jesus naturally leads us to sharing in his work of stilling storms and asks God to make us channels of his peace.  He knows we are prone to failure and lack of trust, but he perseveres with us and calls us to cry out to him when we are in need.

Jesus continues to intercede for us on our behalf.  He has charted the treacherous waters of this earthly life before us.  He has weathered the storms:  those predictable and those less predictable.  So let us trust that God is present in every storm and pray that we may be channels of His peace. 
Amen