Matthew
8:23-27
July 6, 2014
And when he got into the boat, his
disciples followed him. A windstorm arose on the sea, so great that the boat
was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him
up, saying, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” And he said to them, “Why are
you afraid, you of little faith?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the
sea; and there was a dead calm. They were amazed, saying, “What sort of man is
this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?”
I first thought about this sermon series, and about how
living a life with the Spirit was like setting sail, because of this passage.
This passage reminded me that whether we like it or not, much of life is
stormy, and how we weather the storms determines much of what our life becomes.
Just like in nature where storms rush in out of the blue, in life we often have
to face storms, and the question is whether we will face them with faith or
not.
What kind of storms have you had to weather in your life?
Did you grow up in a stormy family? Did you have bad experiences in school or
college? Have you gone through terrible work times or unemployment? Have you
gone through major relational problems—abuse, neglect, strife, or divorce? Have
you gone through terrible grief? Have you been ill or suffered something
debilitating?
All of us wish that we could go through life without
experiencing the storms of life, but the reality is that no one gets out of
life alive. At some point all of us go through something terrible that
overwhelms us and that is difficult to get through. The reality is that storms
are just a part of life.
In many ways the storms that we go through are like the
ones I experienced last Thursday morning. I woke up at 2 am, and a terrible
rain and thunderstorm was raging. It only lasted about fifteen minutes, but in
those fifteen minutes thick trees bent almost to the breaking point, leaves and
sticks pelted our windows, sheets of water cascaded over gutters, and tree limbs
crashed to the ground. The next morning, surveying the damage, one tree had
fallen over covering our back yard, and many branches littered the property and
driveway. Clean up was difficult. I was fortunate that my bother and
brother-in-law were in town for the 4th because they helped me
tremendously. In fact, my brother-in-law ended up overheating my chainsaw
engine (it’s electric) from cutting through so much thick wood. The lesson?
Just as in the storms on Thursday morning, sometimes there’s nothing you can do
about life’s storms but get through them as best you can and clean up
afterwards.
Just like real storms, spiritual, mental, and
life-storms are a reality in life. But this is a hard fact for so many people
to swallow. It’s so common for people to wonder, in the midst of life’s storms,
why they have to suffer them. They become discouraged, thinking that God has made
a promise that if we have faith, then we won’t go through storms. I’m not sure
where this idea comes from, but many people believe that if they have even a
modicum of faith, or attend church on a semi-regular basis, or believe in God,
that God will spare them from having to go through life’s storms.
Many people think like that, asking why, if God is truly
good, God would let us go through these storms. I always wonder if they’ve ever
read the Bible. Have you ever looked at the people of the Bible? Every single
one of them went through storms, whether it was Abraham, Isaac, Joseph, Moses,
the Israelites, Joshua, Gideon, Sampson, David, Elijah, Jeremiah, Isaiah,
Daniel, Ezekial, the disciples, Paul, or even Jesus. What’s apparent from the
Bible is that storms are a part of life. Only one pair of people was asked to
live a life without storms, and they created a storm—Adam and Eve.
Learning to weather storms is a huge part of the life of
faith. So the big question is, what do you do to weather storms? The answer is,
“whatever you have to.” I’m going to take you back to the metaphor of sailing.
When a storm comes upon a ship at sea, there’s often nothing they can do but
batten down the hatches and bring down the sails.
I’m not sure everyone knows what it means to batten down
the hatches. Basically it means to fasten down every portal or doorway to the
lower decks. Failing to do so is dangerous because if too much water gets down
below, the ship becomes too heavy, causing it to sink. Do you remember the 1975
wreck of the ship, Edmund Fitzgerald? Maybe not, but you probably know the 1976
song by Gordon Lightfoot, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” When I heard the
song as a teen, I always thought it was about a ship that wrecked in the 19th
century, but it turned out that the Edmund Fitzgerald was an iron ore cargo
ship that sank in a terrible storm in Lake Superior as it headed to Detroit.
They’re not really sure why it sank, but there’s a theory
that one of the hatches might not have been battened down quite securely,
either by accident or because of a flaw in the hatch. Water may have filled the
hull, causing the ship to become too heavy, especially in the front. If so,
there’s a good chance that a 30 foot wave from behind pushed the stern of the
ship upward, forcing the heavy bow downward into the bottom of the lake, 30
feet below. When a storm comes, you have to batten down the hatches to keep
from sinking.
Once a storm hits, you do you best to get through
it. But it’s not enough to just lower the sails and batten down the hatches. You
need to be ready before the storms come. Our associate pastor, Connie Frierson,
spoke about this a few years ago in a very profound sermon. She made a comment
that I’ve cited a few times since then. Connie has gone through a number of
very bad life storms. Her father died when she was 13. She cared for her mother
in hospice. And her beloved husband, Allen, died suddenly of a heart attack about
six years ago. His death, as sudden as it was, became even more tragic when the
Allegheny County coroner’s office called Connie a month or so afterwards to
talk with her. They told her that Allen’s death had been difficult for them
because of the condition of his body. Allen had been a fitness and health nut,
and they said that his organs, even though he was 54, were those of a 25
year-old. At the same time, they said that his heart was the heart of a 90
year-old. He had a congenital condition. But because his body was in such good
shape, he probably never realized that he had had several heart attacks. As you
can imagine, Allen’s sudden death was traumatic for everyone who knew him,
especially for Connie and her family.
I still remember something Connie said in her sermon,
reflecting on dealing with the grief of Allen’s death. She said, “don’t wait
till tragedy hits to work on your faith. Work on your faith before it happens. That
way your faith is there to get you through.” Connie didn’t really ask the
question, why would a good God let this happen. Instead she relied on God to
help her get through what had happened. That’s battening down the hatches and
bringing down the sails before storms hit.
A man named Horatio Spafford understood how faith
gets us through storms. You probably don’t know Spafford, but you certainly
know his work. Spafford was a prominent Chicago attorney in the mid-19th
century. As a senior partner in one of the most prestigious firms in Chicago,
he made a tremendous amount of money. He invested that money in property all
around the city of Chicago, which was undergoing tremendous growth at the time.
He also had been a man of great faith, devoting himself to Scripture reading,
prayer, and service.
Then in 1870 his life started taking a turn for the worse.
His four year-old son died of scarlet fever. Then in 1871 the great fire of
Chicago burned half the city, and with it Spafford’s investments. By 1973 he
had recovered enough financially that he decided to take a trip with his family
to England, both to get a change of scenery, and also to hear the famous
preacher, Dwight L. Moody, preach in England. Spafford had some extra work to
do, so he sent his family out ahead of him, following three days later. The
ship carrying his wife and four daughters was hit by an iron sailing vessel,
causing it to sink and resulting in 226 deaths. His wife sent a telegram to him
that tragically said, “Saved. Alone.” His four daughters had died. How do you deal
with this kind of tragedy? Spafford dealt with it by penning his famous hymn,
“It Is Well:”
When peace, like a river,
attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea
billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast
taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with
my soul.
(Refrain:) It is well (it
is well),
with my soul (with my
soul),
It is well, it is well with
my soul.
Though Satan should buffet,
though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance
control,
That Christ hath regarded
my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood
for my soul.
(Refrain)
My sin, oh the bliss of
this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the
whole,
Is nailed to His cross, and
I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the
Lord, O my soul!
(Refrain)
And Lord haste the day,
when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back
as a scroll;
The trump shall resound,
and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my
soul.
(Refrain)
Spafford had worked on his faith before the storms hit,
and it allowed him to weather the storms. After the sinking, he and his wife
had three more children. Eventually they moved to Jerusalem and started an
effort to reach out to people struggling through the storms of life. The American
Press dubbed them “The Overcomers.” Their group spent the rest of their lives
reaching out to struggling Christians, Jews, and Muslims in an attempt to bring
God’s love and grace to people struggling through their own personal storms.
Storms are an inevitable part of life. The Christian life isn’t about living in a way that prevents us
from being hit by storms. It’s about having a faith and life that are able to
get us through the storms.
Amen.
