Don't You Care That We Are Perishing?

The Rev. Kathi Johnson

24 June 2018

Mark 4:35-40

On that day, when evening had come, [Jesus] said to them, “Let’s go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 

+ INJ +

“Don’t you care that we are perishing?”

A few years ago, I was walking our dog Abby. We went down our driveway and turned onto the street, then turned a corner onto another street. That street curves around to hit the main road, and as we walked toward the main road, I saw two huge dogs running down the road. Abby, who is fourteen pounds of fierce, and who doesn’t have an unspoken thought, began to bark at them, calling their attention to us. 

As soon as they began running toward us, I scooped up Abby and in my biggest voice said, “NO” to those dogs. They didn’t listen. They jumped up on me, again and again, their powerful jaws snapping at us and their powerful legs almost knocking me over. I screamed again and again for help, and it felt like an eternity before someone heard us. “Don’t you care that we are perishing?”

Finally, a teenager across the street came running over, while the family whose driveway I was in came out of their home. The teenager created a diversion and the family let me run into their house, Abby still in my arms. We collapsed in their front hallway - exhausted, shaking, but alive.

“Don’t you care that we are perishing?” It’s a question that pierces us to our very soul, if we actually listen to it. 

The disciples in the boat with Jesus are seasoned fishermen, so that must’ve been quite a storm to frighten them. The boat is swamped, the text says, and they are in danger of sinking. And there is Jesus, curled up like a cat on a cushion, fast asleep and oblivious to the danger that the boat is now in. What a way to be awakened, by a bunch of disciples yelling, “Don’t you care that we are perishing?”

Who in your life is asking this question? Maybe a friend who is sinking under a weight of depression or other illness. Or a family member who is overwhelmed by life. Or maybe, the person asking the question is you: “Don’t you care that we are perishing?”

Who in our world is asking this question? Immigrant children wrestled from their parents’ arms, or parents whose children are taken from them as they are only trying to provide a better life for their families. They are escaping the ravages of violence in their own homelands and trying to find a better place – can you blame them? “Don’t you care that we are perishing?”

This past week, I preached a sermon in class in which I was reflecting on this humanitarian crisis and the various responses to it. One response I’ve seen is that by us caring what happens to these families who are separated from one another, it somehow limits our ability to care about others who are in need. And I said in that sermon that I’ve been left pondering the question: Is there really a limit on our capacity to care about other people? 

And yet - we are called to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves, and so I have to believe and trust that the same God who calls me to these commandments will give me the strength and grace to perform them. God – who has limitless capacity for love - calls us to love God with all our hearts, and with all our souls, and with all our minds, and with all our strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. These are the two great commandments, Jesus says, so that must mean something.

And whether it is a friend, family member, or stranger, loving every neighbor means that we do care about them, that we do care that they are perishing, and that we use care in how we think about them, how we speak about them, and how we provide help in their times of need. 

If you don’t understand how this will happen, have faith! The God of limitless love will provide the means. Are we able to allow God to open our hearts?

At the end of that day when Abby and I were attacked, I posted about the incident on Facebook, saying that the people who helped likely saved Abby’s life. Someone cared, and someone acted to save us.

In our story from Mark today, Jesus stands up and quiets the storm, and this shows us the very power of God. God doesn’t calm every storm in our lives right away, and in fact, some of them rage on for quite a while. But Jesus standing up in the face of that storm and telling it to settle down shows us that God is able to work in the world. 

Sometimes, the work of God needs our hands and our feet. Sometimes, the work of God needs our hearts to be open so that we can be about the work of caring for those who are in need. The good news of God in Jesus Christ is that God loves us. But God doesn’t only love us for our own sakes, but for the sake of the world. 

Amen.

+ SDG +

Abby: never with an unspoken thought.