HE CALMS THE STORM.

(Mark iv:35-41.)

I. The Analysis.

1. Difficulties in the path of obedience (verses 35-37).—It is easy to misinterpret the providences of God, and this we are in especial danger of doing when troubles seem overwhelming. We may hastily say: "Somehow, I have missed the Lord's guidance;" or, "I am under chastening for failure."- We forget that testings are inevitable in the path of faith (James i:12; 1 Pet. iv:12, 13). The path of obedience for Shadrach, Mesach, and Abednego led straight into a fiery furnace, and for Daniel, into a den of lions.

2. The human Christ. (verse 38).—It had been a day of intense activity, and Jesus was physically exhausted. True service is costly—costs life itself. When the woman with an issue of blood touched Jesus' garment she was healed, but He said: "I perceive that virtue is gone out of me" (Luke viii:46). But more than physical effort had marked this particular day. In it, our Lord had taken the place of the rejected One of Isa. vi:9-11, and who shall say what sorrow for Israel had rent His heart (Comp. Mark iv with Matt, xiii:10-15).

3. The Divine Christ (verse 39). How striking the contrast! In one instant, the weary Servant is in the sleep of utter exhaustion; in the next. He is creation's Lord, commanding the very elements of nature into obedience! Scripture never "reconciles" these paradoxes of the Incarnation— that is the poor botch-work of men.

4. The question of unbelief, verses 40, 41 (See below).

II. The Heart of the Lesson.

"Carest thou not?" The disciple's question of unbelief is clearly the heart of things in this lesson—the question of our Lord, "Why are ye fearful? Have ye not yet faith?" (R. V.) makes it evident that not the wonder of the miracles, but the wonder of the disciples' unfaith occupied His mind. "Carest thou not?"—the disciple's question. "Why are ye fearful?"—our Lord's question. Let us think about these two questions.

And first the disciple's question. The storm was very great, so that even the hardy fishermen, whose familiar elements were wind and wave, began to lose hope—but the Lord of storms, the Master of waves, slept on. The peril grew greater, "insomuch that the boat was now filling" (R. V.)— but He made no sign. Truly, it seemed as if He did not care. Why should He, creation's Lord, be, or at least seem to be, indifferent to the danger and distress of those who had left all to follow Him? It was indeed a most real difficulty to mere sense and reason.

And the disciples applied to the difficulty mere sense and reason. There were the wind and waves, and the rapidly filling boat; and there. His head upon the boat cushion, in the stern sheets, lay the Saviour, apparently unconscious and indifferent. Is the situation, in its deep heart and essence, unknown among us, the disciples of to-day? Is it just an old Bible story, with no modern instance and illustration? Alas, no. It is a very modern matter; it is the sin of us all.

Our business matters go wrong. It is not our fault; a great storm is sweeping over the world of business, and our little boat begins to fill, and we make our prayer, but no answer comes, and we say: "Carest thou not?" Or a dear one lies desperately near to death. Despite every effort, every resource of science, our heart's treasure slips through our clinging arms into death. We pray, but no answer comes, and in our bitterness we ask: ''Carest thou not?"

Or there is before us some object of desire. It seems so near, so dear, so altogether innocent and right. We persuade ourselves that life's chiefest good lies in the thing desired. But heaven seems deaf, and we sadly say: "Carest thou not?"

It is all mere shameful unbelief and cruel wrong to Christ. He always cares—cares day and night—cares when we forget. But He cares for our highest good, and faith knows that He never cares more than when He seems asleep.