Original Meaning

THE SECOND NATURE miracle in Luke’s Gospel develops his Christological concerns.1 Note especially the closing query: “Who is this?” There is irony in this Christological disclosure, since professional fishermen turn to a teacher of God’s truth for rescue on the seas. The irony of their desperation and its resolution reveals that Jesus is no ordinary teacher.

The event’s setting involves a crossing of the Sea of Galilee. This sea is located some seven hundred feet below sea level and has hills surrounding it. The eastern side has a particularly steep set of hills. It is not unusual for a cold wind to shoot through the gaps and collide with warm air over the lake in a weather pattern that any meteorologist would recognize as dangerous.

As Jesus rests, such a weather cycle occurs. Before the disciples have time to react, a whirlwind emerges, and they find themselves at risk in the boat. Waves sweep over the edge and threaten to capsize them. Sensing the danger, the disciples cry out to Jesus of their pending doom. Can he do anything? Jesus turns and rebukes the wind, and immediately there is calm. Then he asks them a crucial question, “Where is your faith?” Do they not trust God to see them and care for their best interest? The dialogue stops here, so that the event can be an object of reflection.

Luke goes on to record the disciples’ reactions: fear and amazement. They ask a central question: “Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.” The question is crucial because the Old Testament makes it clear who has authority over nature: God does (Pss. 104:3; 107:23–30; cf. also Wis. 14:3–5). Although other biblical stories have major figures imploring God or describe God’s people experiencing protection from the presence of severe weather, Jesus works directly here.2 Luke purposefully wants the question of Jesus’ identity and uniqueness to be kept before his reader. The disciples are beginning to appreciate just how unique he is.

Bridging Contexts

THE MAJOR FOCUS in this passage comes in the disciple’s struggle of faith and in their discussion on Jesus’ authority. We too can have the same desperate feeling they did. Especially in the midst of events beyond our control, we often feel that God is somehow not aware or not watching—that he is asleep at the wheel and needs rousing to care for us. Jesus asks the disciples to reflect on God’s care. They do not need to panic; rather, they need to understand that God does care for them and is watching over them.

The disciples need to be made aware that their teacher has authority that extends into the operation of the cosmos (cf. Paul’s words in Col. 1:15–20). The sovereignty of Jesus makes him far more than a prophet or ethicist. Confessing Jesus as Lord means that he is in control of nature with all its power. In our world where nature is often personified as its own cosmic force with an independent identity, the reminder of who really is the force behind creation is important.

In bridging contexts, our sense of helplessness need not be limited to finding ourselves at risk in settings of nature. The storms of today can arrive in a rush of circumstances beyond our control. The point of connection is not in the precise situation the disciples face in the boat, but in the feelings of helplessness they have about where Jesus has led them. Events in our lives sometimes leave us feeling at risk, whether it be in a job situation that calls us to take a stand, in the severe illness of a loved one, in an unexpected tragedy, or in the breakdown of a relationship. Any of these can be a storm in which we doubt God’s goodness. We may feel God has left us to fend for ourselves.

A modern, frank biographical sketch of such a restless journey comes from Dr. Larry Crabb.3 He tells the painful story of losing his brother suddenly in a plane crash on March 3, 1991. He chronicles the stages of his reaction as he discovers a new depth in his relationship with God. He notes five steps in his walk with God: I need you; I hate you; I hate me; I will survive; here’s how I will survive. Before light comes in the journey, darkness is usually there. At the foundation is trusting in God and not doubting him. God has never promised our lives would be empty of pain, disappointment, or storms. Anyone who tells you otherwise is not teaching about a true walk with God. What God does promise are resources to journey through the raging waters. Like the disciples who cry out in 8:22–25 and like Larry Crabb, stillness comes after the fierce storm.

Contemporary Significance

THIS PASSAGE IS a call for a deeper, trusting faith, even in the midst of circumstances beyond our control. There is no telling how often some of the disciples, as former fishermen, had been on the lake in the midst of a storm. Yet it was clear that they were powerless to deal with such forces. Though their faith was weak, they did the right thing in turning to Jesus for help. Only their cry that they were perishing was in error. Had they understood God’s care, they would have realized that divine care never takes a break, even when it leads into rough waters. Jesus’ call for faith is also a call to reassurance that God is aware of whatever storms we are going through and is watching over us.

One of the great hymns of the faith was written in response to such a storm. In the nineteenth century, Horatio G. Spafford lost his four daughters when an ocean liner sank in the Atlantic; only his wife survived, sending a cable to her husband: “Saved alone.”4 Here was a storm that seemingly overwhelmed him. But what did this saint write as he contemplated what had happened? The first stanza tells us much, as does the chorus to this well-known hymn.

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.

Parishioners are usually unaware of the dire circumstances under which these words were written. Here is one man who learned to trust God in the midst of the storm.

The second question in the text deals with further reflection on the identity of Jesus. Luke tells the story of Jesus from the earth up. He starts with a portrait of Jesus as teacher, prophet, and king before he develops Jesus’ more transcendent qualities. Such an approach allows Luke’s readers to grow a step at a time in their appreciation of who this person is. Our rush to preach the exalted Jesus and our knowledge of the rest of the story often causes us to lose sight of how gradually Luke tells his story. Nonetheless, this text is crucial in building a bridge towards a more heavenly understanding of our Savior. Those in our world who wish to relegate Jesus to the status of sage or teacher fail to reckon with texts such as this one. The disciples, as they lived with Jesus and saw him work, came to understand that they were not following an ordinary rabbi. Luke has the disciples ask here, “Who is this?” and the rest of his Gospel shows the answer to this question.

That answer is a central issue of life: He is the unique Son of God. Here is a Savior with the power to deliver and bring life out of death. I am reminded of Ephesians 1:15–23, where Paul prays especially that the Ephesian believers will come to understand that the power at work in us is like that which raised Jesus from the dead and set him over every force in the creation, both in this age and in the age to come. The One who has such power is able to deliver us, if he chooses, from whatever we face. All he asks is that we trust him as we go on the way. He also is able to deliver us ultimately from anything that overwhelms us in this life, a power that is perhaps the most crucial of all. The disciples are just beginning to come to grips with such power in the One they have walked with for nearly three years. We also must sit at his feet for some time before we really begin to comprehend how great Jesus is and how far his deliverance reaches.