The Storm Isn't the Problem: Where Does Your Anxiety Take You?

Based on Mark 4:35–41 

Years ago, I walked away from a job I loved at a church I loved, because I believed God was moving me from the admin side into ministry. A pastor at another church had offered me a position, and part of it was preaching. It was exactly the bridge I had been praying for.

My start date was January 1st. I took that literally and showed up to an empty parking lot, with no keys and no one to let me in. The office wasn't opening until the 6th. When it finally did, I arrived early and sat in the lot until a staff member pulled in, looked at my car, and asked if he could help me. I told him it was my first day. He said, "I don't think we hired anyone."

I spent three days sitting alone in the sanctuary. I prayed, I cried, and I asked God why I had just blown up my life. At my first staff meeting, someone pointed at me and asked, "Who's the guy in the Jurassic Park shirt?" I started to wonder if the job, the pastor, and the whole conversation had been something I'd dreamed up.

It turned out I did have a job. I worked there for eight years. But in those first days I made a mistake that I think most of us make. I stopped looking at what God had said and started looking at the path it took to get there.

Jesus put them in the boat

In Mark 4, Jesus says to his disciples, "Let us cross over to the other side." Then a violent storm hits. The word Matthew uses for it is the one normally used for an earthquake.

Notice who put them in that boat. Jesus did. He knew the storm was coming, and he sent them anyway. A storm is not proof that you've taken a wrong turn. Sometimes you're in the storm because you're following Jesus, and Jesus is in the storm too.

Faith in the wrong things

The disciples were fishermen. They knew the sea, their boats, and what to do in a storm. They did all of it, and it wasn't working. Only when they ran out of their own answers did they turn to Jesus. Even then they didn't say, "You are our rescue." They said, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"

Their fear took them somewhere that looked like it led to Jesus but didn't. It led them to doubt his heart.

When Jesus stands up, he doesn't answer the question with words. He speaks to the wind with the same authority he used on demons: "Peace, be still." Literally, be muzzled. He answers "Don't you care?" by calming the storm.

Then he asks, "Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?" Jesus isn't scolding them for feeling afraid. A boat filling with water is a good reason to be afraid. His complaint is that their fear told them who God was. And the "no faith" he names is better read as ineffective faith. They believed the storm could destroy them. They believed Jesus could help if he cared enough. Their faith was real, but it was too small for what they were facing.

Eyes on the storm or eyes on Jesus?

After the calm, the disciples' gaze changes. They're no longer watching the waves. They're asking, "Who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?"

That is the question for our own storms. Where is your gaze? There's another detail that's easy to miss: "other little boats were also with him." How we go through a storm affects the people around us. When others watch you carry real peace through something hard, they're encouraged, and they want what you have. When all they see is panic, they see nothing different from their own lives.

Jesus felt it too

Maybe you're thinking, "That's great, but I'm not Jesus asleep in the stern." I understand. My chest gets tight and my mind races at 2 a.m. too.

But Jesus felt anxiety as well. In Gethsemane he was in such agony that his sweat fell like drops of blood. Anxiety is an emotion, and an emotion is not a sin. What matters is where you take it.

The disciples took theirs to "Don't you care?" Jesus took his to the Father: "Not my will, but yours be done." The answer was no, and he still went to the cross. But after Gethsemane we never see him anxious again. He stood before his accusers with steady confidence. Peace didn't come from getting the answer he asked for. It came from being connected to the Father.

A way through

Paul gives us the pattern in Philippians 4:6–7: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

That isn't a command to never feel anxious. It's a way to walk through anxiety:

1. Stop staring at the thing that's causing it. Turn and look at God.
2. Bring it to him in prayer.
3. Thank him in advance. Thank him that he's with you in the storm before the storm changes.
4. Receive a peace that doesn't add up. It makes no sense on paper, because the storm may still be raging. But everything has changed, because his peace is on you.

Sometimes God calms the storm, and I've seen him do it. Sometimes he walks you through it. Either way, the peace is the same, because it depends on who you trust, not on what answer you get.

The real question

Storms will come. That was never in doubt. The real question is who you reach for first. Do you trust your skills, your plans, and your ability to manage a crisis? Or do you trust the One who is already in the boat with you, the One who called you to the other side?

If you're in a storm right now, pray this with me:

Father, reveal yourself as the one who is right here with me. You have authority over every wind and wave. I trust you to be my provision, my wisdom, and my peace. Speak to my situation, and let your peace reign in my heart. Amen.