Against the Wind - Celine Sparks

The following is an article written by Celine Sparks.

I hadn’t seen a sign of life for miles. It was a desolate road trip home; the kind that makes you wonder if you screamed for your life, would there be anyone near enough to hear you?  Then I saw it -- a light in the distance. As I got nearer, it was a fueling station with, I hoped, a bathroom.

There was also a sign on the door, written with a fat-tip marker, that said, “Best cup of coffee in town.”  I missed the town part. I guess these people made coffee a whole lot better than the nearby raccoons and coyotes.

Jesus preached in this kind of desolate place a time or two -- minus the acclaimed coffee. In Mark chapter 6, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now late” (verse 35).

What followed was a miracle no food truck could have rivaled. Jesus satisfied the hunger of 5,000-plus people, in a desolate place far from any restaurants, so much that there were leftovers. John’s account said they had “as much as they wanted” (John 6:11). And he did it all from his starting amount of five loaves of bread and two fish. There’s more than that in a kid’s meal. Oh wait -- this was a kid’s meal (John 6:9).

But what is most intriguing to me is not that there was more food left after the meal than there was to start with --I feel like that happens here every Thanksgiving. It’s not the sheer volume of people -- I’ve been to Walmart when there were threats of snow flurries in Alabama. And even though the fact that they managed to get a crowd like that to sit down in groups -- we have never been able to do that at Vacation Bible School with a crowd about 4900 people smaller -- this is not what I want to highlight either.

What’s even more incredible than all of this is what happens next. Jesus had his disciples board a boat and head to the other side while he dismissed the crowd. He then took this opportunity, being alone, to spend time in prayer. 

Now let’s take up the narrative at Mark 6:47-52: “And when evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and he was alone on the land. And he saw that they were making headway painfully, for the wind was against them. And about the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. He meant to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the sea they thought it was a ghost, and cried out, for they all saw him and were terrified. But immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.” And he got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.

There are three words in here that jump off the page, and impress themselves deep in my soul:  Making headway painfully (verse 48). Every one of us have been there at some point in our lives if we’ve lived long enough. Circumstances become harder than we could foresee, the outlook is bleak and growing bleaker, and yet we are rowing. We are trying with all our might to forge choppy waters. It may be that we are making headway, but it is in sweat, blood, and tears. We’re making it painfully.

A dear friend of mine, one of the Godliest I know, recently amidst other difficult trials, found herself being handcuffed and escorted into prison. I had never been more sure of a person’s innocence. When she was released the next day, she was barred from being with her children until the details could be sorted out. We knew, when the research was done and the facts were gathered, it would be obvious just how preposterous a circus was being created here. I’m not knocking law enforcement or the entire justice system -- I have great esteem for public servants -- but sometimes just one person dragging their feet can tumble the whole dance line. It was weeks before the charges were dropped and the shenanigans were dismissed.

Deep into week three, I said, “Do you feel like you’re making headway painfully?”  She said, “I feel exactly like that.”

I remember talking with another dear friend some time before that, a beautiful mom of six. They were at rope’s end with one child, had dealt with some external threats to their family, and she was just weary. She said, “I can’t find the joy anymore in the day-to-day. I want to bring back the joy.” She was still in the fight, but she was making headway painfully.

Plop! A pile of books fell beside me at a table where I was working. I looked up at a familiar face attached to arms that had just released the books. Arms that were part of a body that was usually working circles around me. There was constantly laughter wherever she was. But this time, she said, “Help me!”  She had screamed at her children the night before -- children she adored, counted as blessings, and thanked God nightly for. But she had so many pressures mounting that the laughter that accompanied her soul was now hanging by a thread. “Help me,” she said. Screaming at her kids again was not an option. She was bent on restoring calm to their disrupted world, but she was making headway painfully.

I’ll say it again. All of us have been there. We’ve grabbed up the paddles, and rowed hard to keep our marriages from plummeting, our tempers from exploding, our children from being sucked up by the world, those dear to us from spiraling into depression. But the waters are choppy, and we make headway painfully. 

And Jesus sees it (verse 48). He sees the struggles of his followers. It’s just a comforting thought that He knows.

So here was Jesus walking toward the boat, and the text tells me something incredibly interesting, if not troubling. He meant to pass by them (verse 48).

What?  In the midst of a storm where his disciples are struggling in pain, He meant to pass by them?  I don’t know entirely what to think of it. I can’t read the mind of God other than what He gives me to read, but I can decipher this. When they cried out to Him, it changed His course.

You could argue that they didn’t cry out to him, because the text tells us they thought it was a ghost. One thing we can agree on is, they did cry out (verse 49). I find in the most tragic of emergencies, when people cry out, they cry out to God. I mean, people that are not even Christians pray like they are when fear grabs them by the pants. I just have a feeling these men, who were followers of Christ, were praying when they cried out, even though they didn’t know that they were looking at the very one they were crying out to.

If we are making headway painfully, we must cry out to the Lord. The one who was walking on water here, was the one who had just spent time alone and apart with His Father God on the mountain. The ones who had run ahead of that step were now struggling.

They thought he was a ghost (verse 49). Let it be a lesson to us that when we’re in the middle of a storm, we don’t see so clearly. Yes, there were rough waters; yes, the wind was against them; and yes, it was in the darkest of night. But there was not a ghost!  Sometimes, we think our circumstances are so bad that we make them worse. In the middle of the darkest of storms, let’s intentionally look for the positive, because it is certainly there, instead of imagining things that have not even occurred. That’s called worry, and it never helped us get a decent night’s sleep.

The most meaningful thing to me is that he heard that cry, and responded. He always will. Psalm 34:17 says, “When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles.” Praise God.

His words to them were, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (verse 50). They were words we find often in the scriptures. God the Son and God the Father want us to know They are with us. “Do not be afraid” is among the most disregarded scriptural guidance. We sometimes act as though there is honor in fear.

We will say that the world we live in is “scary.”  We mean that it is evil, but we cannot be afraid of evil because, if we are Christians, God is there with us. “It is I. Do not be afraid.”  What we find over and over in scriptures is that those who are opposed to God, who seem to be a threat to all that is good, are inwardly filled with fear. It’s not who we are.

Turn a few pages over, still in the book of Mark. The chief priests and scribes are looking for a way to destroy Jesus (11:18). Why? “For they feared him.” In the Old Testament saga of David and Saul, the more Saul turned away from God and became militantly set on destroying David, the more we read about his fear, even though he was in the top position of earthly power.

These are only two examples among hundreds in the scriptures. Is it any wonder that it was most likely David himself who penned, “I will not be afraid of many thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around” (Psalm 3:6)?  If we’re fearful, we’ve sat down on the wrong side of the gym!

God’s action to back up his words, “It is I. Do not be afraid,” is almost too amazing to comprehend. But let’s look. The very next words are, “And He got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased” (verse 51).

When we are crying out for help, when we are making headway painfully, Jesus says, “Scoot over. I’m getting in there with you.”  They were utterly astounded (verse 51). So am I.

One more thing. They were astounded now. “For they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened” (verse 52). Isn’t that the way we are?  Still. After a couple of thousand years, we’re still the same humans.

As long as God’s providing for us incredibly, as long as we have a fish sandwich with leftovers, we shrug and move on to the next level of Candy Crush or Bejeweled or Best Fiends or whatever’s on our important agenda. How is it that we forget to be impressed when we are eating from every food group and sleeping under insulated roofing? Our hearts are hardened.

But oh, when the wind comes; when we are making headway painfully; when we just about see ghosts and cry out for help, we begin to get it. We begin to focus on the one who whispers, “It is I; do not be afraid.” We scoot over and make room in the boat.

And knowing Who is sitting next to us, how can we help but be astounded?

Celine Sparks