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THE THIRD SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Just as we are

Mark 4:35-41

Two weeks ago this morning I put in at the Cross River entry point along the Gunflint Trail.  It was the first of a seven day canoe trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness that I took with four friends and one of my sons.

My friend, Dave, who planned the trip, is a Lutheran pastor, but his real passion is planning canoe trips.  He has been doing this for over thirty years.  He told me this was a route he had never taken before but had always wanted to take.  He said it was more remote and that there would be very few other people.

He was right about the people.  We only saw a handful of other people the whole week.  But the reason that there were fewer people is that the portages were many and many of them were much harder than I’d ever done.

Portages are paths between bodies of water. They allow canoeing parties to move through the wilderness where there isn’t navigable water.  But these paths are not sidewalks.  They are not even the smooth, well-worn trails of your local state park.  They are rough.  They go up and down.  They are filled with boulders and tree roots and thick mud.  And you have to walk them while carrying your canoes and all your gear in packs.

In addition to the rugged portaging, it was cold.  I can’t tell you how cold it was, because we didn’t have a thermometer.  Some people have asked if it snowed.  It didn’t snow, but on Monday, it rained over eight hours.  And when it rains, it makes it even harder to warm up.  The weather did get warmer later in the week.  But the first couple of days, the only place in camp I felt warm was in my sleeping bag.

Canoe trips like this are always a physical challenge.  That’s one of the reasons I like them.  But this was more than a challenge.  It was the hardest canoe trip I’ve ever been on.  At one point, walking down a portage, I said to myself, “Chris, you’re 56 years old!  What are you thinking?”

I have taken enough of these trips that I know that my tendency, early in the trip, is to worry about how the whole trip will go, how long it will rain, and how I will handle the challenges for the coming days.  This trip, however, I decided to focus only on the day that I was living.  I didn’t look at a map until the evening of the third day, when the group needed to make a decision about where to go the next day.  In that way, I could more easily focus on just where I was at the time rather than thinking about what was ahead.

Even more, each time I would begin to think about the cold or the rain or the rough portages, and would be tempted to worry about the whole week, I would say to myself, “Day One.”  I did that on the first day, on the second day, on the third day.  I did it on each day.  That phrase helped keep me focused on whatever I was doing in that moment and not worry about where I had been or about what might or might not be down the road.  I took the day just as it was.

Jesus takes his disciples on a trip.  He has finished teaching them with parables and explaining everything to them.  Then he says, “Let us go across to the other side.”  By this, he means, of course, the other side of the Sea of Galilee .

The Sea of Galilee is small, not much bigger than a good sized lake.  Nevertheless, it is very deep, so it is very powerful.  The Jews were never sea-going people and the deep water is a place of cosmic threat.  Most of all, perhaps, the other side is not home territory.  It is the territory of Gentiles . 

Even though the disciples are fishermen and are experienced in boats, this trip is risky.  They would never go out in the evening.  It’s not a time to catch fish.  It is a time when they are most likely to encounter powerful storms.  Though they are experienced on the water, they are also vulnerable.

Strangely enough, Jesus seems vulnerable, too.  The disciples take him in the boat, “just as he is,” Mark tells us.  It seems an odd detail.  It could mean without baggage, with simply the clothes on his back.   It could also mean without any particular power.  In my mind, it seems to have the connotation that Jesus, too, is vulnerable.  He is carrying no extra protection.  He is taking no additional precautions.

When the storm hits and the boat is in danger of sinking, Jesus is asleep.  He is not guiding the boat.  He is not comforting the passengers.  He is not exhorting the sailors.  He is asleep. 

The disciples are beside themselves.  “Teacher, don’t you care?  Don’t you care if we all drown?” 

Jesus arises and speaks, “Peace,” to the storm. The wind stops dead and the sea becomes as smooth as glass.  Then to the disciples he says, “Why are you afraid?  Have you no faith?”

And the disciples look at each other and say, “Who is this guy?”

Jesus invites the disciples to go with him to the other side.  Jesus does not command them.  Neither does he take them.  They take him.  They take him just as he is.

And they also go – just as they are.  Indeed, in chapter 6, when he sends the disciples out two by two, he tells them to go just as they are - without food or bag or money or extra clothes.  They are to remain utterly vulnerable and utterly dependent upon God to provide what they need.  Then, two by two, they go with confidence. 

Now, in the boat, they become terrified when the storm comes up and death threatens them.  They mistakenly think that, because Jesus is not doing anything they can see, it is a sign that he does not care.  It may even be a sign that he is not present.

But Jesus has just finished teaching them in parables.  In one, he speaks of the farmer’s patient waiting, while the sprouting, growing and ripening of the crop happens, without the farmer doing anything.  In another, he speaks of the mustard seed, so tiny, yet it yields the largest of plants.

In faith, things do not happen according to our timetable or our agenda.  Yet the results are far beyond what we ourselves could ask or imagine.  So, in faith, we go ahead with courage, just as we are.

The first four days of the canoe trip were the hardest days of canoeing I’ve ever had.  At the end of each day I was exhausted.  By the fourth day, I felt like I was running on fumes.  But the fifth day was probably the best day I’ve ever had in the Boundary Waters. 

Although it wasn’t perfect, we had much better weather that day.  We were camped on one of the most beautiful campsites I have ever seen.  I caught two lake trout (fish I have never caught before.)  Dave and I filleted them and he cooked them over an open fire while I cooked the rest of the meal that evening.  I had good conversations with him, while we were fishing, and with my son, later in the afternoon.  And, to top it all off, that night, while we were playing Hearts, I shot the moon and won the game!

“Why are you afraid?” Jesus asks.  “Don’t you have any faith?”  Faith has less to do with agreeing with certain theological statements than it has to do with putting our hearts forward.  Faith means to continue on, just as we are, in the face of whatever we encounter.   Faith connects us with Jesus, just as he is, even when there is no outward sign that he is in charge.  Faith does not presume on the outcome, but trusts that God will handle the outcome, whatever it is, because in the end it will be far greater than we can ask or imagine.