On that day, when evening had come, he said to
them, “Let us go
across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the
boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And
a great windstorm arose, and the waves were
breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the
cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we
are perishing?” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you
still no faith?” And they were
filled with great fear and said to one another,“Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
I never really thought too
much of this story, until very recently. I’ve been rereading through the gospel
of Mark as part of a bible reading plan, and as I was reading this particular
section, I had peace on my mind. Previously, I’d studied this passage a handful
of times in manuscript style, and we’d had pretty much the same questions and
observations (why and how was Jesus asleep through this storm? Why did the
disciples wait until they were perishing before asking Jesus for help? Does
Jesus do this to test the disciples? Was Jesus in control of the weather the
whole time? Etc.). As I recall, the interpretations that we reached were
inconsistent at best—whether or not he was testing them, the point is that
Jesus calmed the storm, and we should have faith that he should calm the storms
in our lives. Like many other things in the bible, this sentiment is great in
principle, but a little more difficult to actually implement in real life.
But this time when I read
this story, I was reminded really powerfully of my first encounter with God. I
was 20, and suffering from ruthless, unexplained panic attacks that seemed to
occur absolutely at random. I’d just begun attending bible study and hanging
out in Christian community a few months before, searching for solace and hope
in something other than my broken body. At one particular worship event, I
found myself in the middle of a crowded living room, having a panic attack,
with no way to exit the room discreetly, so to avoid drawing more attention to
myself, I decided to ride it out.
These panic attacks were violent. I would
hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably, and bang my fists into my legs to try and
distract myself from the fear that I was about to die. I just hoped that
everyone else in the room was more focused on the worship than watching me make
a scene. Somewhere during the worship time, the worship leader opened a time of
prayer, where we were to pray in one voice (many voices—everyone prays whatever
they want out loud at the same time), asking God to take away whatever it was
that was keeping us from him. I was so scared. I knew that if I asked him to
take away this panic, that that would be it—that would be proof enough to me
that there is a God, and that he cares about me and listens to me, and then I’d
have to change so many aspects of the way I’d been living, and open my mind up
to how he wanted me to live. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to do it. I looked
around, and saw all these other people praying, and the best likeness I can
give to what happened next is peer pressure, even though no one was looking at
me, or forcing me to do anything, but I somehow found myself closing my eyes to
pray… The instant my eyelids met, the panic attack was gone—I stopped shaking, I was able to breathe normally, and I
physically felt the tension being released from my body. I felt an inexplicably
profound sense of peace and calm to a degree that I did not know was even
possible. It was absolutely the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.
This time when I reread this
story in Mark 4 about a week ago, I started to see the parallels in my own
story. That night two years ago, it took until I felt like I was going to die
(like, every panic attack of every day) before I even thought that seeking
Jesus might be a thing that could help, and it took 4 months from that initial
seeking to grow a faith and understanding sufficient enough to ask him to take
the panic away (although I’m still not sure how exactly that happened), all the
while fearing the outcome—kind of like the disciples. Here they are in this
boat, and this storm comes, and some of them are experienced fishermen, so they’re
like, “nah, it’s cool, we got this, Jesus is asleep, we’ll let him sleep…” and
then when the storm gets worse, to the point where they say “Teacher, do you not care that we are
perishing?” –so, they’re dying, they don’t know what else
to do, Jesus is their last resort. And then Jesus says “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. So this
time when I was reading that story, the lightbulb went off and I was like, DUH,
Helen! This is exactly what happened
two years ago, the parallels are inexplicable. Not only that, but this is one
of the first miracles that Jesus performs; in this gospel, it is the first
miracle performed after the appointment of the twelve apostles—the first one
that they are all present for (presumably), and he chooses to show them that even the wind and the sea obey him. Incredible.
For me, that really started the journey into “who is this, that even my body’s
biochemistry obeys him?”, like that was just a taste of the healing he was
going to bring about.
I was originally told I’d
have to be on medication for life—I’ve been drug-free for going on two years.
I used to have three violent
panic attacks a day, now I might have one every three months.
Anxiety and panic developed
into agoraphobia, meaning I couldn’t leave the house, and the faith that has
been planted and uprooted and replanted and ever so slowly growing and being
pruned, and flourishing, has allowed me to overcome that, to the point where I
can confidently say that I feel like a productive member of society again, and
also more fully human for having been through this struggle.
Jesus says “Peace! Be still!” and the wind and the
sea obey him.
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