On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us 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, do you not 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.
(Mark 4:35-39)
This text has always intrigued me – it is rich with imagery and interpretive possibilities depending on where we find ourselves. We are confronted with the chaos of both the weather and the disciples. We encounter Jesus and the disciples after what seems like a whirlwind of activity and Galilean ministry. Jesus has healed the sick, cast out demons, preached to growing crowds, selected 12 disciples to be entrusted with his teachings. He must have been exhausted – that is a lot of emotional and spiritual output. The disciples must have also been exhausted. After all, they were ordinary individuals who found themselves on an extraordinary journey – following a compelling leader who seems to lean into his ministry with indefatigable energy. And now after a long day, Jesus says it’s time to go to the other side – his mission continues. I imagine they thought they could rest for a while away from the crowd.
And then the storm. The winds are blowing; the waves are pounding, and the disciples are panicking. And Jesus? Well, he seems to be oblivious, asleep in the rear of the boat. Was he indifferent to the threat before them? At this stage in my ministry, I’ve come to see this moment as Jesus modeling a critical spiritual discipline for those of us leading others. Jesus is modeling the need and ability for us to create a space of respite in the midst of the storms. Storms – they will keep on coming – some will be caused by waves and winds raging outside and others caused by waves and winds raging within us – in both cases causing a spiritual imbalance that can compromise how we view ourselves and how we lead.
How often do we find ourselves leading meetings from a place of hope while a piece of our heart is broken – as we simultaneously navigate the pain of others – members of our communities, our families, our sense of self. Unlike Jesus, we will not be able to stop the external action of the storms. But perhaps like Jesus, we can learn to create a space – a safe harbor if you will – in the midst of the storm – that allows us to take a deep breath; that allows us to say “peace be still” to our souls, allowing that breath of heaven to quiet the internal waves and windstorms of our anxieties and fears.
Over the years my understanding of safe harbors has evolved. It will look different for each of us. And it will look different for us depending on the seasons of our lives. In 2012, our son Dakota began college on the east coast while we lived in California. Since I was coming east 3 times a year to serve on the Princeton Seminary board, I tried to find a place to stay I could afford in Cambridge, MA. I found a monastery on the Charles River – the Society of St. John the Evangelist. It was inexpensive and it included food. Imagine my surprise when I walked in and realized it was a silent retreat center with a rule of life. At that time, I didn’t know what a rule of life was and I did not consider myself the silent retreat type. Well that changed. This unplanned encounter became a blessing. It ignited an intentional awareness within me about the importance of resisting a world that mistakes busyness for effectiveness and speed for efficiency.
In his books Addicted to Hurry and Rest in the Storm, the Rev. Dr. Kirk Byron Jones names the pervasive cultural assumptions that frame a school of leadership – that “faithful service is linked to tireless effort.” This cultural fallacy impacts many leaders, but its impact is even more prevalent in the ministry of women and leaders of color who bring an added burden of proving themselves to the majority culture. Jones reflects, “My burnout 30 years ago was abetted in part by unbridled service to persons and causes I cared deeply about. I kept giving and giving until one night I had nothing left to give.” He goes on to say there is a deep connection between self-care and inspired ministry. Friends, I have observed first-hand the difference between inspired ministry and tired ministry. Creating the space to allow for inspiration matters. As Nate Stuckey shared with our presbytery this past July – rest is not a reward.
Now we don’t always have the opportunity to physically go elsewhere to feed our souls. So, I’ve learned to make space for the breath of heaven to inspire my weary body and soul in other ways. Whether it’s kickboxing, hula hooping or swimming – I’ve committed to at least 30 minutes daily where my mind might stop focusing on the 200 items of business. These are my personal imperfect practices. They allow me to experience those thin places where the sacred meets the mundane – where I might experience God’s grace and encouragement in ways that in turn, allow me to engage others in non-reactive ways. It is there I have found space for joy and creativity in the midst of life’s ongoing challenges and storms. It is there I’ve learned to hear and embrace the words of Jesus – “peace be still.”
My companions on this journey – I invite you to consider the safe harbors in your life. I invite you to explore what those safe harbors could be that would allow you to love and care for yourself – even as you love and care for others. Consider spaces that will allow for your joy to reflect the hope of the Gospel. I love how NT Wright speaks of hope – referring to hope as “being what you get when you suddenly realize that a different worldview is possible, a worldview in which the rich, the powerful, and the unscrupulous do not after all have the last word.” Sounds like the Gospel to me.
The windstorms and waves will always find their way into our lives – tempting us to weariness. Our safe harbors allow us to take a breath – rest and renew – to hear Jesus say “peace be still,” so we might rise up – restored to represent the hope of the gospel in a weary world.
