We want an easy peace
Fear, peace, radical honesty + naps on stormy boats
Here’s a few thoughts and invitations on fear and peace. Plus, we explore how badly we want faith to be a transaction sometimes. You can listen, watch or read. Enjoy!
I’ve learned over the years that my brain interprets things quite literally. Which is interesting when it comes to Bible stories. I grew up hearing this magical story where Jesus took a nap in a boat during a storm. So I assumed that’s what faith should feel like. Even when life is really hard, God helps me feel relaxed and calm.
Right.
That has not quite panned out in my nervous system.
As I added more theological exploration and nuance, I started to see the stories beneath the stories.
Maybe the invitation from fear to peace is both simple and complex.
It’s been a long day
Jesus has had quite the day. He started by talking with folks by the lake. So many people showed up that he climbed into a boat so he could get some breathing room. He told stories, explained them to some people, but not others. He talked about soil, seeds, lamps, more seeds, vegetables and then evening rolls around. He wants to go to the other side of the lake. A storm whips up out of nowhere. And Jesus falls asleep. To be fair, he spent all day with tons of people asking questions. I’d be tired too. His friends wake him up, demanding he care about how they’re all about to die. Jesus tells the wind to stop and it does. He asks them why they got scared. Where’s their faith?
Aren’t we those disciples sometimes? Shaking Jesus and waking him up -- “Where are you? Fix this!” And Jesus lazily wakes up and asks, “Where’s your faith?”
It begs the question: What does faith in God DO for us? Is it kind of like a frequent flyer program? The more I trust God, do I get a buy one, get one free deal? This will get easier, right? I’m guaranteed less pain, more control, and more naps in boats during storms...right?
We laugh but doesn’t part of us secretly hope that’s how this whole thing works?
I’ll be honest -- when my brother laid in his ICU bed, already gone, I had a few choice thoughts for God. “God, I’ve been good. Look at the job I chose. Doesn’t this somehow make me a little extra bullet proof from this kind of BS? If not, then what was it...all...for?”
In our moments of most intense pain and fear, we turn into the disciples who don’t quite get what Jesus is up to. We reduce this whole faith thing to a transaction. “Jesus, I’ll do my part and you do yours. I’ll be good and you make my life easier. I’ll be kind and you make that pain go away.”
One of the disciples’ chief failings is their assumption that they deserve rewards for following Jesus. They clearly expect Jesus to protect them from suffering, but the entire movement of this Gospel demonstrates the inevitability of suffering. Do we share Mark’s interpretation of Jesus as sufferer and the life of a follower of Jesus as a life of suffering?1
It’s an interesting thing to reflect on. Does faith give us an escape route out of suffering? Or does faith have an entirely different goal?
Sometimes we sit in our boats and pray the hard things away, believing we’ll finally get to the peace we want after the tension.
We want an easy peace where the storm evaporates and life goes on. But God offers a real peace that sits in the middle of actual suffering.
Peace that permeates your being while you wait for test results. Not because you’ve skipped the worry. Because you’ve chosen to wade into the middle of your real actual difficult life, trusting Love is there too.
Peace that sits in your heart while you navigate a tough relationship. Not because you’ve fixed the other person. But because you’re slowly learning to see them through the eyes of love while you continue to tend the pain you hold.
A glimpse into what it’s like living with obsessive compulsive disorder. In treatment for OCD, I learned about the intrusive thoughts that pop up and how my nervous system believes them. Every time. Big reactions. To offload all that stress, I developed mental compulsions and rituals that bring some relief, for a second. It’s a powerful combination in a nervous system that’s already extra sensitive. Round and round OCD goes. It’s debilitating for 2-3 million adults and 500,000 kids in the US.
My brain is literally adding suffering to my life. It’s a mental illness. It’s one of the boats I sit in while the storm rages.
Today’s text invites me to wonder: What does peace look and feel like in that kind of storm? It’s not praying the OCD away, that’s for sure. Peace is being honest with myself and the people who love me. Peace is finding treatment and following through, even when it feels impossible to rewire my brain. Peace is choosing to believe what God says about me. That I’m not broken. That I’m worth the hard work to face this storm. That peace can be mine right there in the middle of that unstable boat.
What if our definition of fear and peace are a bit different than God’s?
One scholar puts it this way: “God’s creative work is a call out of the chaos of nonbeing into real being. The trajectory for each creature is toward an increasingly real existence, in which we more and more share in God’s life, for God is the one who simply is Being. I AM. The work of creation is a call from chaos into a life of fullness.”2
What is the chaos of nonbeing?
This is when we are asleep to our lives. One might say Jesus’ has entire gospel is trying to wake us up.
What is real being?
Being alive, in every sense of the word.
And let me tell you, it is equal parts beautiful and terrible.
When we live from our truest, most awake self, we see the pain in ourselves, the people around us, and the unjust systems of our world.
When we live from our place of full being, we have access to unending compassion, grace, and love, for ourselves, and the people around us.
I think that is a bit more of what Jesus is talking about when we talk about fear and peace.
Radical honesty
One very practical way, you can cultivate more of this kind of piece this week is to practice radical honesty with yourself. Are there places in your life where you are asleep? Things you don’t want to see or deal with. That’s it.
You don’t have to rush to fix it. it. We’re not blaming someone else or naming a ton of excuses. We simply own it. “This one part of my life has been really hard lately and I have been avoiding it. I am not living from my full self.” That’s it.
Radical honesty is a pretty wild gift. Because once you see something, you really can’t unsee it. We just have a lot of numbing and coping patterns to ensure we never actually see it. And a really cool thing about God is that God just looks for one tiny tiny open door to crack open. Then love can get to work.
Radical honesty.
Friends, receive this blessing this day:
Whatever boat you find yourself in, may you come to know and trust God is with you.
Love is with you.
Storms are going to rattle your boat.
Following Jesus is not a free ride out of the storm.
If anything, loving people like Jesus did means you’re probably going straight into some storms.
But this love that holds you and me? It’s strong. It’s unpredictable, but also consistent. It’s wild, but also trustworthy. It’s surprising, but also comforting. It never leaves your boat. Ever.
May you rest in that peace this day. May it be so.
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Feasting on the Word
Thank you, Jenny. Your piece is why I turned to Thich Nhat Hahn and the Four Noble Truths. Where I love the church I grew up in and engaged in Chistian contemplation I felt there was nothing offered in accepting wisely the first noble truth, there is suffering, period. The second noble truth is to seek to understand it's roots and dispel ignorance. The Third and Fourth have to do with continuing with growth and trust in a deeper kind of peace. You pretty much followed that process in your sermon and it takes diligence. Thank you for doing your inner work. Now to do mine ...and serve. Christ is alive.