In the Storm
Ignatian Imaginative Treatment of Mt. 4:35-41
I’m your disciple. I’ve been keeping the boat you’re sitting in turned toward the shore so you could keep teaching. Your energy seems boundless. I’m strong, but all the talking and sitting tires me. So when you say we should across to the other side of the lake I’m eager to get moving. “Let’s go, men! Let’s go, you in the other boats!”
It’s dark now and I guess your energy wasn’t as boundless as I thought – you’re curled up in the stern. It’s somehow reassuring that you need to sleep, too. You trust me, us, to get you across the water. That’s our job – rowing, sailing, working on the sea. We can do this.
The weather’s changing, waves are getting choppy, wind gusting. We can handle this, of course – I’ve seen lots of storms.
This isn’t letting up. I’m getting nervous. We’re all out here, taking care of you and these waves are getting big. They’re crashing over the boat. “Bail, men!” Again and again: “Bail!” crash. “Bail!” Crash.
This is getting serious. And you’re still just lying there – how can you still be asleep? Why aren’t you helping with this water? “Wake up! Don’t you care that we’re sinking?! Do something!”
You get up, wind blowing, waves flowing, water moving in crazy patterns, pulling and knocking us.
“Be quiet!! Be Still!!”
Everything’s calm. Immediately. Just like that.
No more ripping wind. No more pounding waves knocking my legs out.
“Why are you so afraid?” Well, I thought fear made sense.
“Where is your faith?” I felt the wind and waves and you weren’t doing anything.
This is astounding. You, Jesus, have power I can’t imagine. You’re not just a teacher, a talker. You have access to power.
Power.
I’m your disciple. I’ve been keeping the boat you’re sitting in turned toward the shore so you could keep teaching. Your energy seems boundless. I’m strong, but all the talking and sitting tires me. So when you say we should across to the other side of the lake I’m eager to get moving. “Let’s go, men! Let’s go, you in the other boats!”
It’s dark now and I guess your energy wasn’t as boundless as I thought – you’re curled up in the stern. It’s somehow reassuring that you need to sleep, too. You trust me, us, to get you across the water. That’s our job – rowing, sailing, working on the sea. We can do this.
The weather’s changing, waves are getting choppy, wind gusting. We can handle this, of course – I’ve seen lots of storms.
This isn’t letting up. I’m getting nervous. We’re all out here, taking care of you and these waves are getting big. They’re crashing over the boat. “Bail, men!” Again and again: “Bail!” crash. “Bail!” Crash.
This is getting serious. And you’re still just lying there – how can you still be asleep? Why aren’t you helping with this water? “Wake up! Don’t you care that we’re sinking?! Do something!”
You get up, wind blowing, waves flowing, water moving in crazy patterns, pulling and knocking us.
“Be quiet!! Be Still!!”
Everything’s calm. Immediately. Just like that.
No more ripping wind. No more pounding waves knocking my legs out.
“Why are you so afraid?” Well, I thought fear made sense.
“Where is your faith?” I felt the wind and waves and you weren’t doing anything.
This is astounding. You, Jesus, have power I can’t imagine. You’re not just a teacher, a talker. You have access to power.
Power.