A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?
Mark 4:37-38 NIV
In the wake of the abrupt braking of our speeding lives back in 2020, I remember taking a photo of new growth on one of my indoor houseplants. The bright green of it against the bleak backdrop of March’s overcast skies and the novel virus stunned me.
“In spite of frightening pandemics, nature persists,” I wrote, sharing the photo on Instagram and Facebook. “Suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us. Keep planting your seeds of hope, friends.”
A friend replied in the comments, saying something like, “You know, the virus is part of nature too. Nature persists there as well.”
I’ve thought a lot about his words since then. For every gasp and awe at a brilliant sunrise there seems to be another natural disaster somewhere, wreaking havoc on homes and lives. Which leads me to wonder, if I am grateful for the sunrise, how can I be thankful also in the storms?
My friend was not wrong, but I don’t think I was wrong, either. Normally, when I think of Paul’s words to the Romans in chapter 5:3-5, I think of them spoken strictly about the human experience. Humans suffer. Life is hard, and suffering is a part of life. No one gets out alive, they say, and as much as we all hate these truths, they are our reality.
But these are also the truths of all of creation. All of creation suffers. Does suffering seem to produce perseverance, character, and hope in creation, too?
I would argue the answer is yes, that the God who holds humanity together holds all things together in his love, and therefore, all things of creation follow the same trajectory, leaning in together through their suffering, perseverance, and character to hope, which does not disappoint.
In the midst of the wildest storms, we are not the only ones who scream to the heavens, “Lord, save us from this suffering!” The ocean is screaming, too. The wind is howling. The sky is weeping. All of creation seems to be in pain.
But pain has a purpose: It is the whole world’s signal that something is wrong here and needs our immediate attention. Whether a scrape on a leg or a piercing pain in your side or the wail of yet another extreme storm, pain is creation’s way of shouting for help. It is intended to lift our eyes and respond with love and compassion to the hurting world, both animate and inanimate.
When the waves swell and the people on board panic, Jesus is asleep in the boat. God isn’t asleep, oblivious to our needs. No, he is able to rest in the end of that long sentence—hope. He knows the end of the story. He knows that love transcends everything, even and especially the storms. It is the storms of our lives that awaken our true hearts and can drive us to love and compassion, to find our better selves and live into our greatest call, to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.
When we hear the cry of pain from both people and the planet, may we be so moved to action, resting in “the hope that does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Romans 5:4-5 NIV).
Points of Reflection
- What storms, literal or figurative, are raging in your life right now?
- How might the love of Christ flow through you into that storm to fulfill our greater purpose, to love each other well, in the name of Jesus?
For the Kids
- Why do you think Jesus was able to sleep through the storm on the boat?
- When you are in pain, what usually helps you feel better?
Action
In recent weeks, very real and dangerous storms have devastated and decimated entire communities in the United States. Their intensity was unprecedented. Announcers used words like “apocalyptic rain” and “storm for the record books.” The storms themselves are a cry from creation to do what we can as a global community to address climate change. The aftermath of those storms has also sent out a cry from humanity to help our fellow neighbors in crisis. In the coming weeks, consider how you can help individuals affected by Hurricane Helene and Hurricane Milton – donating resources, praying, volunteering, donating blood, and more are all very real and important steps we can each take.
But there are also long-term things we can do to help creation heal. Choose one small habit to add to your efforts to reduce your impact on the environment—switch from liquid soap in plastic containers to bar soap, for instance, or begin composting your table scraps, or start using reusable grocery bags consistently. These are small efforts, but they are worthy efforts.
Reading
If you don’t live in an area that experiences the power and intensity of storms, it is hard to imagine just how devastating storms can be. That is where the power of personal testimony (in other words, telling our personal stories) can awaken compassion and open our eyes to ways we can love our neighbors. Wave by Sonali Deraniyagala tells a story of love and horrifying loss after a tsunami on the southern coast of Sri Lanka swept away her parents, her husband, and her two young sons. It is tragic and beautiful, and it follows that universal trajectory God has given us, from suffering back to hope.