“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?’” Mark 4:37-38
Lord Jesus, we know we’re in “hurricane season” when we recognize faces and names on the Weather Channel easier than some of our extended family. Today, we wake up to Ida, and pray for those in her path—especially the elderly, single mom’s and children.
Some hurricanes, like Ida, happen in the environment. Others happen in our hearts, health, and homes. Covid feels like a Category 5 health-hurricane that just will not go away. The relational tensions in our culture, of late, might actually deserve the ungraded label of “anti-grace-typhoon.” We can rebuild homes easier than relationships. Have mercy on us, Jesus.
Thank you for being present in every storm we experience in life—even when we interpret your “sleep” as indifference. Storms come to the just and unjust. Those in the “cone” of any kind of a hurricane aren’t more deserving of major life-disruption than others.
Because of your life, death, and resurrection, we don’t really have to ask, “Teacher, don’t you care?” No one cares about us more than you do, Jesus. You’re not “merely” our teacher; you’re our Savior, Bridegroom, and Lord. You always give us what we need, even when it doesn’t line up with what we want and pray for.
We crave the Day of no more storms, hurricanes, or typhoons of any variety. Until that Day, we’re grateful we’ll never experience a Christ-absent day—a day when you’re not with us and for us. So very Amen.
