Of course, if we take a step back, we realize how little it is that we do control. Our plans and priorities, our health and our well-being – most aspects of our lives are usually not nearly as assured as we believe them to be. This realization can lead us to great gratitude, if we come to see how all that we have been given is a gift. At other times, though, if some sudden storm appears on the horizon, or we comprehend the smallness of our little ship in the vast ocean of life, the realization that we not in control can lead to angst, and especially fear.
But if we are not in control, who is? God, of course, as our first reading tells us today. The Lord speaks to Job from the midst of the storm cloud, assuring him that he is the one who has set the limits of the earth and sea. If those forces of nature that appear chaotic to us – the storm and the sea – are actually within God’s grasp, controlled by him, then surely the events of our own lives are too. While this may offer some assurance, it also leads to the question of why God allows us the storms of life at all. Surely, if he loved us, he would save us from what is harmful? Yes – unless the storms themselves are not the greatest harm that might befall us. In that case, God might allow the storms to prevent something even more harmful.
Rembrandt van Rijn, The Storm on the Sea of Galilee (1633) |
Today’s Gospel seems to indicate this. Jesus chides the disciples for their fear in the storm not because they have no reason to be afraid, but because they have an even greater reason not to be: his own presence with them in the boat. What really threatens us, it seems, is not the upheaval and turbulence of the storms of life, but our own illusion of self-reliance. When we think we are completely in control of our own selves, we leave no space for God. Therefore, as painful and frightening as they can be, the storms of life can also be a gift because they can help us realize anew that God is in control and not us. In the end, everything is in his hands, and whether we happen to be in tranquil waters or stormy seas at a given moment is less important than ensuring his presence is with us, in our boat, that we are holding fast to him and not anything else.
Friends, we all like the idea of being our own master, the captain of our own ship. But in reality, it is far better to let the Lord take charge: to learn, as St. Paul says, to live not for ourselves but for him who died and rose for us. May the love of Christ be what we hold fast to in all things, so that whatever the course of our journey in this life, he may guide us into the safe harbor of the life to come.
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