April showers bring May flowers. April winds bring tornadoes and wrecked lives. April viruses bring sickness, death, cabin fever, money worries, and concerns about the growing infringement on our Constitutional rights. It makes me think about other storms. My thoughts keep going to how the disciples felt as they rocked along in their little boat watching a ‘furious squall’ bear down on them as an exhausted Jesus slept on a cushion in the bow. I imagine there were showers, winds, and fear. Lots of fear. They knew Jesus was with them, but he was asleep, not seeming to care about the amount of water in the boat. They were scared.
I understand them. I know Jesus is with me. I know He’s got this. I know my eternity is secure, but the rest of this month worries me. The disciples reacted by going to Jesus with their fear. They woke Him up, telling Him, “Hey, a little help here—we’re going to drown!” I like to picture what happened next. Jesus: groggy, sleepy eyed, His hair sticking out with divine bedhead. He sits up and looks around. He sighs. He puts a hand up and tells the storm, “Enough!” Winds die, the sea flattens out. Then He looks at His friends and says, “Why are you afraid, oh you of little faith?” I don’t hear in His voice anger or disappointment as much as a kind of loving accountability. So. Here we are. April badness is buffeting us. It occurs to me that while others are standing at the railing focusing on the onslaught, letting their fear grow while they lose faith, the safest place in this boat right now is snuggled up on the cushion in the bow next to Jesus.
