Jesus, the stiller of storms
Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 25 June 2006
Simon Harvey
There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.
The bible readings used in this sermon are Job 38.1-11 and Mark 5.35-41
.
Let me tell you a little modern parable and see if you spot any connections…
They tell a story, of a remote part of the Newfoundland Coast; a treacherous rocky shore on which many ships have been wrecked. Many souls have been lost in those icy seas.
A small and dedicated band of men decided to station a small rescue boat inside one of the narrow inlets. And they kept watch for ships in distress. The small lifeboat was nothing special – it was anything but comfortable –just big enough to stay afloat in the heavy seas. The first night the lifeboat was called upon it for real action, it went back and forth to a stricken vessel, bringing half-drowned sailors to safety on the shore. And that wasn’t the last time either. The crew were few in number, but what they lacked in manpower and equipment, they made up for in bravery and courage. They simply lived to serve and save others.
After a while though, some improvements were suggested. A bigger boat could accommodate people more easily. So one was ordered. It was a little heavier to steer, but it was still quite effective. The lifeboat crew had grown in number and, between rescue operations, they enjoyed each other’s company and tended to their vessel.
In the long evenings, the crew would gather at the lifeboat and talk, play cards and sing. It became a real place of friendship. Later they made more improvements – electric light, comfortable seats, cupboards for provisions. These made it only slightly harder to set sail in an emergency.
Over the months and years, more people found their way into the company of the lifeboat. People came down to join the crew – people who didn’t ever want to set sail into the icy waters themselves. A replacement boat was ordered – one which could accommodate the whole lifeboat community. A toilet was fitted. A cooker was installed. Beds were made so that people could stay overnight. The well-stocked bar was very popular. The big lifeboat could still go out to rescue sailors in peril, but somehow, the people inside didn’t seem to look out as often as they used to.
No one quite remembers the day when the lifeboat became a houseboat. It didn’t seem so much of a big deal at the time. A permanent gangway made access much easier. Heavy mooring ropes kept the boat safe and secure, even if they made a quick launch impossible. Permanent electrical wiring was much more convenient than using the little on-board generator. A solid roof and curtains at the windows shut out the noise of the wind when the gales blew and the heaters kept the inside snug and warm even in the fiercest storm. It was still called a lifeboat, of course. But no one could quite remember the last time the boat set sail.
Now all along that coast, the same thing happened. Today there are lots of comfortable houseboats, some are full, most are half-empty. But there are no real lifeboats to set sail. No boats to set out and find those in distress. no one keeping lookout to seek the lost.
What a tragedy! How could people allow it? Vessels originally designed to set sail into stormy seas to rescue the those calling for help no longer used for their true purpose?
The parallel of course, is for us to work out. The metaphor isn’t a perfect one, but the church is a kind of lifeboat, isn’t it? You’ve got seats in God’s ship. And this is a ship with a purpose; she wasn’t built as a houseboat. Of course, through this ship, the work of saving the lost is God’s work. But we, the church, are called to do our part too. To be available at a moment’s notice, ready to go. What a mission!
Incidentally, the part of the church building you’re sitting in is the nave. It’s the word for ship. (Navis. Navy).
Sadly, many church communities have allowed themselves to settle for a less demanding mission. There’s always the temptation to turn our attention inward, to focus on getting our little ship just the way we like it. To become a comfortable houseboat, safely moored in quiet waters. To neglect the distress calls outside. I wrote a letter for the parish magazine this month which relates to this and I’ve received a lot of encouraging feedback. (more copies for St Paul’s people). My basic point is that church has a purpose – a mission purpose – beyond making us feel better about ourselves. Being part of a Spirit-led church, available for mission, sometimes means that the Christian community is a demanding place to be, not just a club tailor–made for my needs.
It’s thrilling to know that we’re getting close to the start of the refurbishment of this building. It’s not been easy – I know it’s something that’s been talked about and worked on for several years before I came to join you. And a number of people have worked especially hard this last year – and I want to thank them, and in particular Colin Chettle, for bringing us to this point. And I thank God and thank you, for the generosity of gifts that have made it worthwhile.
I want us to think about why we’re doing this work, and what it will mean to us. It’s important to do this, not just for ourselves, but for the mission of St Paul’s Church; for God’s mission. I believe that this project is not primarily about making this building more cosy for us, but making it more effective for mission. I believe that it’s about making us more ship-shape for the true purpose of St Paul’s Church.
A refurbished St Paul’s will help us in our worship and in the glorifying of God. It will also help us serve those hundreds of people who use our buildings each week, more effectively, more hospitably.
But there will be little point in our refurbished building, if we content ourselves with the achievement of refurbishment alone. To simply stop at transforming this building will be a failure, unless we are prepared to set sail in faith, so to speak. Lifeboats are for sailing in stormy seas, not for safe moorings – they are built for action. Churches are for mission in a complicated world, for seeking the growing Kingdom of God, for loving service to neighbours, for evangelism and proclamation of the good news of a loving God. Renewing our building for mission must also involve renewing our commitment to being available for challenging mission.
Mark tells us about the time Jesus taught huge crowds on the sea shore. So many people, that Jesus got into a boat and taught the crowds. For the disciples, it was a wonderful day with Jesus. All day long he taught in parables, and when he and the disciples were alone in private, he explained everything clearly.
At the end of that long day, evening came, and as the sky began to darken, Jesus said to his friends, “let’s cross to the other side of the lake”.
Peter, James, John and Andrew were literally in their element. These four fishermen all knew their business. Perhaps their minds had been stretched by all this wonderful teaching. How brilliant that they could now relax and do what they were experts at – sailing a boat for Jesus. Can you imagine Jesus asking you to do something that you’re good at, something well inside your comfort-zone?
So off they set, eastwards into the darkness, Jesus settling down to sleep…
I wonder what looks these disciples exchanged as the waters became choppy. When Matthew the tax-collector and Simon the freedom-fighter asked about the strengthening wind did the fishermen reassure them? When did the expert sailors begin to get nervous? Did they think of turning back to shore? Did they try to find their way to safer, calmer seas?
And when the waves came slopping over the sides, with the boat pitching up and down, with the water inside beginning to rise and panic beginning to spread, who decided to go to the stern to wake Jesus?
“Rabbi! Don’t you care that we’re going to drown? Don’t you fear for our lives?”
Those poor disciples. Still trying to work out who this rabbi Jesus truly is. And today they seem to have their answer. He’s the teacher who asks them to follow him into the storm, where they fear even for their lives. Isn’t it all Jesus’ fault? He chose them and called them, now it seems to he wants to drown them.
The disciples in this passage are modelling for us what sincere but feeble faith looks like. Faith that’s happy to follow Jesus in the sunny, successful parts of his mission can suddenly melt away in the dark and in the storm. In Mark’s gospel, the disciples are never described as having faith. Jesus is thrilled at the faith of the woman with bleeding, the friends of the paralysed man lowered through the roof, the father of the demon-possessed boy. But he never commends his followers for their faith in Mark’s gospel.
It’s as if Mark holds up a mirror for us. As we reflect on the disciples in his gospel, we see ourselves in our weaker moments. Keen to follow Jesus, but all too afraid.
We hear the story of the storm on the lake and we suspect that we might have tried to sail the ship into safer waters, to ignore Jesus’ call to cross to the other side and tie up on the shore because he can’t have been serious and because we know best. Or, when we’re at our wits’ end, to scream to God (who seems to be asleep) “don’t you care about us?”
Jesus, in Mark’s gospel, seems to have chosen disciples who don’t feel up to the task when it really matters. Yet he still believes in them. He still believes in you and me.
Jesus stands up and commands the wind and waves. “Peace! Be still!” The miracle happens, even for these faithless disciples. Jesus is Lord over all. Perhaps if they’d trusted his call, they’d have survived after all. Perhaps Jesus calmed the storm, not to save their lives, but to deal with their fears.
I believe that Jesus’ call to the disciples to push out from the shore, to set sail into less certain waters, is especially relevant to our church right now. I believe that God is calling us to be more mission-minded, more outward-looking, more deliberate and purposeful in the business of evangelism and more serious about living our lives more and more as mature and committed followers of Jesus.
Because I’ve had this feeling about a renewal of our purpose for several months, I booked myself onto a residential course on Church Growth. I spent most of the week before last there. And it was good to recognise many of the strengths of St Paul’s in what was discussed. But I also came back with a greater resolve than I had before. A resolve to do what I can with you to make this church even more ship-shape, not so that we can stay in our comfort zone, but so that we can go where Jesus calls.
There are people in our town who are searching and seeking. Yes, of course the vast majority are satsified with fairly comfortable lives. But a smaller number don’t want to settle for ‘fairly comfortable’. Sometimes it’s illness or bereavement that makes them ask the question, “what more is there than this?” Jesus and, later on the apostles, proclaim the truth that there is a life truly worth living – a life lived with God. They proclaim widely, to thousands. And just a few are interested. Jesus is always interested in the individual.
Sometimes we find it hard to set sail into the mission field because we feel we should save the whole world, and we doubt that we can. We shouldn’t and we can’t – that’s God’s job. Jesus only wanted his disciples to take him to the other side of the lake – where they found just one man to help – the Gerasene man who was out of his mind. Jesus healed him and asked him to tell his neighbours and friends what had happened. Then Jesus returned. It wasn’t a large-scale mission.
Sometimes, it seems to me, Jesus would take us into risky moments, all for the sake of just one soul. Like a shepherd who risked his 99 sheep to find the lost one.
So let’s get our church always ready for action. Let’s get it trimmed for mission, not just for comfort. Let’s be prepared to look at our services, our housegroups, our personal commitment to growing more like Jesus. I’ll be looking for ways of us working together on these issues over the coming months. And if we hear Jesus call us to push out and sail from the safe shore, let’s be the crew that’s ready to slip the moorings and make the adventure happen. Amen.
Sunday 25 June 2006
Simon Harvey
There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.
I believe that Jesus’ call to the disciples to push out from the shore, to set sail into less certain waters, is especially relevant to our church right now. I believe that God is calling us to be more mission-minded, more outward-looking, more deliberate and purposeful in the business of evangelism and more serious about living our lives more and more as mature and committed followers of Jesus.
The bible readings used in this sermon are Job 38.1-11 and Mark 5.35-41
.
Let me tell you a little modern parable and see if you spot any connections…
They tell a story, of a remote part of the Newfoundland Coast; a treacherous rocky shore on which many ships have been wrecked. Many souls have been lost in those icy seas.
A small and dedicated band of men decided to station a small rescue boat inside one of the narrow inlets. And they kept watch for ships in distress. The small lifeboat was nothing special – it was anything but comfortable –just big enough to stay afloat in the heavy seas. The first night the lifeboat was called upon it for real action, it went back and forth to a stricken vessel, bringing half-drowned sailors to safety on the shore. And that wasn’t the last time either. The crew were few in number, but what they lacked in manpower and equipment, they made up for in bravery and courage. They simply lived to serve and save others.
After a while though, some improvements were suggested. A bigger boat could accommodate people more easily. So one was ordered. It was a little heavier to steer, but it was still quite effective. The lifeboat crew had grown in number and, between rescue operations, they enjoyed each other’s company and tended to their vessel.
In the long evenings, the crew would gather at the lifeboat and talk, play cards and sing. It became a real place of friendship. Later they made more improvements – electric light, comfortable seats, cupboards for provisions. These made it only slightly harder to set sail in an emergency.
Over the months and years, more people found their way into the company of the lifeboat. People came down to join the crew – people who didn’t ever want to set sail into the icy waters themselves. A replacement boat was ordered – one which could accommodate the whole lifeboat community. A toilet was fitted. A cooker was installed. Beds were made so that people could stay overnight. The well-stocked bar was very popular. The big lifeboat could still go out to rescue sailors in peril, but somehow, the people inside didn’t seem to look out as often as they used to.
No one quite remembers the day when the lifeboat became a houseboat. It didn’t seem so much of a big deal at the time. A permanent gangway made access much easier. Heavy mooring ropes kept the boat safe and secure, even if they made a quick launch impossible. Permanent electrical wiring was much more convenient than using the little on-board generator. A solid roof and curtains at the windows shut out the noise of the wind when the gales blew and the heaters kept the inside snug and warm even in the fiercest storm. It was still called a lifeboat, of course. But no one could quite remember the last time the boat set sail.
Now all along that coast, the same thing happened. Today there are lots of comfortable houseboats, some are full, most are half-empty. But there are no real lifeboats to set sail. No boats to set out and find those in distress. no one keeping lookout to seek the lost.
What a tragedy! How could people allow it? Vessels originally designed to set sail into stormy seas to rescue the those calling for help no longer used for their true purpose?
The parallel of course, is for us to work out. The metaphor isn’t a perfect one, but the church is a kind of lifeboat, isn’t it? You’ve got seats in God’s ship. And this is a ship with a purpose; she wasn’t built as a houseboat. Of course, through this ship, the work of saving the lost is God’s work. But we, the church, are called to do our part too. To be available at a moment’s notice, ready to go. What a mission!
Incidentally, the part of the church building you’re sitting in is the nave. It’s the word for ship. (Navis. Navy).
Sadly, many church communities have allowed themselves to settle for a less demanding mission. There’s always the temptation to turn our attention inward, to focus on getting our little ship just the way we like it. To become a comfortable houseboat, safely moored in quiet waters. To neglect the distress calls outside. I wrote a letter for the parish magazine this month which relates to this and I’ve received a lot of encouraging feedback. (more copies for St Paul’s people). My basic point is that church has a purpose – a mission purpose – beyond making us feel better about ourselves. Being part of a Spirit-led church, available for mission, sometimes means that the Christian community is a demanding place to be, not just a club tailor–made for my needs.
It’s thrilling to know that we’re getting close to the start of the refurbishment of this building. It’s not been easy – I know it’s something that’s been talked about and worked on for several years before I came to join you. And a number of people have worked especially hard this last year – and I want to thank them, and in particular Colin Chettle, for bringing us to this point. And I thank God and thank you, for the generosity of gifts that have made it worthwhile.
I want us to think about why we’re doing this work, and what it will mean to us. It’s important to do this, not just for ourselves, but for the mission of St Paul’s Church; for God’s mission. I believe that this project is not primarily about making this building more cosy for us, but making it more effective for mission. I believe that it’s about making us more ship-shape for the true purpose of St Paul’s Church.
A refurbished St Paul’s will help us in our worship and in the glorifying of God. It will also help us serve those hundreds of people who use our buildings each week, more effectively, more hospitably.
But there will be little point in our refurbished building, if we content ourselves with the achievement of refurbishment alone. To simply stop at transforming this building will be a failure, unless we are prepared to set sail in faith, so to speak. Lifeboats are for sailing in stormy seas, not for safe moorings – they are built for action. Churches are for mission in a complicated world, for seeking the growing Kingdom of God, for loving service to neighbours, for evangelism and proclamation of the good news of a loving God. Renewing our building for mission must also involve renewing our commitment to being available for challenging mission.
Mark tells us about the time Jesus taught huge crowds on the sea shore. So many people, that Jesus got into a boat and taught the crowds. For the disciples, it was a wonderful day with Jesus. All day long he taught in parables, and when he and the disciples were alone in private, he explained everything clearly.
At the end of that long day, evening came, and as the sky began to darken, Jesus said to his friends, “let’s cross to the other side of the lake”.
Peter, James, John and Andrew were literally in their element. These four fishermen all knew their business. Perhaps their minds had been stretched by all this wonderful teaching. How brilliant that they could now relax and do what they were experts at – sailing a boat for Jesus. Can you imagine Jesus asking you to do something that you’re good at, something well inside your comfort-zone?
So off they set, eastwards into the darkness, Jesus settling down to sleep…
I wonder what looks these disciples exchanged as the waters became choppy. When Matthew the tax-collector and Simon the freedom-fighter asked about the strengthening wind did the fishermen reassure them? When did the expert sailors begin to get nervous? Did they think of turning back to shore? Did they try to find their way to safer, calmer seas?
And when the waves came slopping over the sides, with the boat pitching up and down, with the water inside beginning to rise and panic beginning to spread, who decided to go to the stern to wake Jesus?
“Rabbi! Don’t you care that we’re going to drown? Don’t you fear for our lives?”
Those poor disciples. Still trying to work out who this rabbi Jesus truly is. And today they seem to have their answer. He’s the teacher who asks them to follow him into the storm, where they fear even for their lives. Isn’t it all Jesus’ fault? He chose them and called them, now it seems to he wants to drown them.
The disciples in this passage are modelling for us what sincere but feeble faith looks like. Faith that’s happy to follow Jesus in the sunny, successful parts of his mission can suddenly melt away in the dark and in the storm. In Mark’s gospel, the disciples are never described as having faith. Jesus is thrilled at the faith of the woman with bleeding, the friends of the paralysed man lowered through the roof, the father of the demon-possessed boy. But he never commends his followers for their faith in Mark’s gospel.
It’s as if Mark holds up a mirror for us. As we reflect on the disciples in his gospel, we see ourselves in our weaker moments. Keen to follow Jesus, but all too afraid.
We hear the story of the storm on the lake and we suspect that we might have tried to sail the ship into safer waters, to ignore Jesus’ call to cross to the other side and tie up on the shore because he can’t have been serious and because we know best. Or, when we’re at our wits’ end, to scream to God (who seems to be asleep) “don’t you care about us?”
Jesus, in Mark’s gospel, seems to have chosen disciples who don’t feel up to the task when it really matters. Yet he still believes in them. He still believes in you and me.
Jesus stands up and commands the wind and waves. “Peace! Be still!” The miracle happens, even for these faithless disciples. Jesus is Lord over all. Perhaps if they’d trusted his call, they’d have survived after all. Perhaps Jesus calmed the storm, not to save their lives, but to deal with their fears.
I believe that Jesus’ call to the disciples to push out from the shore, to set sail into less certain waters, is especially relevant to our church right now. I believe that God is calling us to be more mission-minded, more outward-looking, more deliberate and purposeful in the business of evangelism and more serious about living our lives more and more as mature and committed followers of Jesus.
Because I’ve had this feeling about a renewal of our purpose for several months, I booked myself onto a residential course on Church Growth. I spent most of the week before last there. And it was good to recognise many of the strengths of St Paul’s in what was discussed. But I also came back with a greater resolve than I had before. A resolve to do what I can with you to make this church even more ship-shape, not so that we can stay in our comfort zone, but so that we can go where Jesus calls.
There are people in our town who are searching and seeking. Yes, of course the vast majority are satsified with fairly comfortable lives. But a smaller number don’t want to settle for ‘fairly comfortable’. Sometimes it’s illness or bereavement that makes them ask the question, “what more is there than this?” Jesus and, later on the apostles, proclaim the truth that there is a life truly worth living – a life lived with God. They proclaim widely, to thousands. And just a few are interested. Jesus is always interested in the individual.
Sometimes we find it hard to set sail into the mission field because we feel we should save the whole world, and we doubt that we can. We shouldn’t and we can’t – that’s God’s job. Jesus only wanted his disciples to take him to the other side of the lake – where they found just one man to help – the Gerasene man who was out of his mind. Jesus healed him and asked him to tell his neighbours and friends what had happened. Then Jesus returned. It wasn’t a large-scale mission.
Sometimes, it seems to me, Jesus would take us into risky moments, all for the sake of just one soul. Like a shepherd who risked his 99 sheep to find the lost one.
So let’s get our church always ready for action. Let’s get it trimmed for mission, not just for comfort. Let’s be prepared to look at our services, our housegroups, our personal commitment to growing more like Jesus. I’ll be looking for ways of us working together on these issues over the coming months. And if we hear Jesus call us to push out and sail from the safe shore, let’s be the crew that’s ready to slip the moorings and make the adventure happen. Amen.
