Storm

Storm.  This afternoon at 3:05 p.m. Hurricane Ian, categorized as a Category 4 due to its sustained 150mph winds, made landfall at Cayo Costa, Florida—a barrier island near Fort Myers. A massive weather system, Ian is 500 miles across. For comparison, the state of North Carolina, from tip to tide, is 503 miles across. For contrast, driving 500 miles at 65mph, takes 7.7 hours—yet Ian is crawling at a devastating slow pace (8 mph) in a north-northeasterly direction. The slower the storm, the more rain, wind, storm surge, and havoc it produces. Ian is living up to its hype as a havoc-wreaker. Tonight, and tomorrow night at this slow speed, will be a night that Ian will certainly dominate the headlines, the Coast Guard, the 9-1-1 dispatch call centers, the fire departments, police departments, and hospitals in every city along Ian’s warpath, not to mention nursing homes, prisons, and most vulnerable sectors.

This storm is new, but storms are not new. Only a few historic storms remain newsworthy a month, a year, a decade later. May Ian be historically forgettable in that regard: forgettably low in its human casualty rate, forgettably low in its property loss, forgettably low in its forced evacuations and catastrophic losses of housing. But some storms are famous, even infamous: Moses’ storm, Elijah’s storm, Jonah’s storm, Ezekiel’s storm, Paul’s storm.

The storm that Jesus slept through in the stern of a single-hulled fishing boat was unforgettable. While he slept, his disciples, many of whom were professional fishermen who had lived their whole life on the Sea of Galilee, genuinely thought that they were goners. They were annoyed, feeling even betrayed, that Jesus was not bailing water, or rowing, or praying, or being somewhat helpful like the rest of them. “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38). “And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still! And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm” (Mark 4:39).

Aside from the miracle—which is jarring on every level—think of the humanity wrapped up in that interesting, accessible, and understandable question! Do you not care? Perhaps the Lord is being asked that exact question right now in Ian’s wake. It is a legit question, I suppose, but it was the wrong question to ask at this juncture. The Lord already settled the issue of do you not care. After all, Jesus was soaking wet, too, miles from shore, in the same storm with his disciples. God’s care for the disciples had been settled by his arrival, by his presence. The better (dual) question is: “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” What about this storm made your belief in me turn to panic? The storm isn’t about caring but believing. The storm revealed that the disciples did not have enough belief about the most fearsome force in that storm, which was Jesus himself. They would never forget this storm!

The scariest part of the storm was not the wind or the rain, it was Jesus who, while sleeping, summoned the storm and who, upon waking, silenced the storm with a word. God, the Lord of weather, was in their boat. They didn’t believe, even accusing Jesus of nonchalance. But a mercifully new storm whipped up when the rainstorm had calmed down. “And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" (Mark 4:41). This second storm was far worse, and far better.