Don't You Care?
Read Mark 4:35-41.
"Don't you care?" That's the question that rings throughout the centuries. The storm is raging and the boat is sinking...and Jesus is asleep. He's comfortably snoozing and snoring in the back of the boat. Ridiculous! Doesn't he know what is happening? Doesn't he care?
You've asked that question. The bills are stacking up and you feel as if you'll never get out of the financial storm. You look around and see no help, no extra finances, coming from anywhere. So you look up, maybe for the first time in a long time. "Jesus, don't you care?"
It's one thing after the other. No one in the family can seem to get well. You're beginning to think that Job had an easier life than you do. As soon as you get out of the hospital, she goes in. You consider asking the hospital social worker if you can get a "two-for-one" deal. And then the dog gets sick and the car breaks down. "Can't I catch a break?" you ask no one in particular. "Jesus, don't you care?"
He walked out the door yesterday. You thought by today he'd be back, but it looks like he was serious when he said he didn't want to be married anymore. You had convinced yourself that the struggles were "just a phase," that it would pass, that counseling wasn't necessary because "everyone goes through things like this." And while that last statement might be true, you're beginning to realize he didn't know or perhaps believe that. The anger of the day before has faded into the broken heart of today. "Jesus," you cry, "don't you care?"
The bullying never stops. You've considered running away, but you figure it won't be any better anywhere else. Your youth pastor tells you it will get better, that Jesus will walk with you through it. You know that's true, but it would also be nice to have someone "with skin on" who stood beside you as well. "Doesn't anyone care?"
You've asked that question, the same question the disciples asked in the back of the boat. Actually, it wouldn't have been an asking as much as a demanding. A yelling, so as to be heard over the wind and the waves. "Don't you care?" Well, do you, Jesus? Do you? Does anyone?
He never answers. Not with words. Instead, he gets up and still the storm. And sometimes he will still do that in our lives. He will calm the storm. And other times, he will calm his child instead, enabling us to make it through the storm. Either way, he speaks into our lives, "Peace, be still." And the storms have no choice but to obey him. The question for us is, then, whether or not we will accept his peace as our way of living—or will we still live as if the storm will overwhelm us? Because it will not, as long as Jesus is in the boat with us.
Don't you care?
Yes, he does. He did then and he does now. And he always will.
(p.s. I'll have much more to say on this passage on Sunday, May 21 at Mount Pleasant UMC!)
"Don't you care?" That's the question that rings throughout the centuries. The storm is raging and the boat is sinking...and Jesus is asleep. He's comfortably snoozing and snoring in the back of the boat. Ridiculous! Doesn't he know what is happening? Doesn't he care?
You've asked that question. The bills are stacking up and you feel as if you'll never get out of the financial storm. You look around and see no help, no extra finances, coming from anywhere. So you look up, maybe for the first time in a long time. "Jesus, don't you care?"
It's one thing after the other. No one in the family can seem to get well. You're beginning to think that Job had an easier life than you do. As soon as you get out of the hospital, she goes in. You consider asking the hospital social worker if you can get a "two-for-one" deal. And then the dog gets sick and the car breaks down. "Can't I catch a break?" you ask no one in particular. "Jesus, don't you care?"
He walked out the door yesterday. You thought by today he'd be back, but it looks like he was serious when he said he didn't want to be married anymore. You had convinced yourself that the struggles were "just a phase," that it would pass, that counseling wasn't necessary because "everyone goes through things like this." And while that last statement might be true, you're beginning to realize he didn't know or perhaps believe that. The anger of the day before has faded into the broken heart of today. "Jesus," you cry, "don't you care?"
The bullying never stops. You've considered running away, but you figure it won't be any better anywhere else. Your youth pastor tells you it will get better, that Jesus will walk with you through it. You know that's true, but it would also be nice to have someone "with skin on" who stood beside you as well. "Doesn't anyone care?"
You've asked that question, the same question the disciples asked in the back of the boat. Actually, it wouldn't have been an asking as much as a demanding. A yelling, so as to be heard over the wind and the waves. "Don't you care?" Well, do you, Jesus? Do you? Does anyone?
He never answers. Not with words. Instead, he gets up and still the storm. And sometimes he will still do that in our lives. He will calm the storm. And other times, he will calm his child instead, enabling us to make it through the storm. Either way, he speaks into our lives, "Peace, be still." And the storms have no choice but to obey him. The question for us is, then, whether or not we will accept his peace as our way of living—or will we still live as if the storm will overwhelm us? Because it will not, as long as Jesus is in the boat with us.
Don't you care?
Yes, he does. He did then and he does now. And he always will.
(p.s. I'll have much more to say on this passage on Sunday, May 21 at Mount Pleasant UMC!)
Comments
Post a Comment