Storms over Galilee

Having arrived in Galilee late last night when it was too dark to take in the shape and spirit of this place, the first light awakened not only our bodies but our vision for where we are and what we are doing here. Sunrise over Galilee is a glorious encounter with emerging light over water and mountains. 

Of course, I’m the most rested and my time-clock is not as out of whack as the others. Reseting biorhythms is one of the many challenges Pilgrims face here in Israel. Pacing shifts. We move slower, linger more. Prayer becomes our modus operandi, scripture our guidebook. Perception is recalibrated towards God's heart and work.  

And, to be honest, another challenge seems to be for my fellow pilgrims to get used to my driving like a Palestinian!

We walked out to the Cliffs of Arbel, the mountain peak that overlooks the small region of Jesus’ seaside ministry in Galilee. We each took time alone to reflect on what we are leaving behind and what longings and desires are emerging as we begin this pilgrimage. Standing at this crossroads, our desire is to see how the ancient path of Christ provide guidance and clarity for our current journeys.

As I sat taking in the ancient sites where Jesus feed the 5,000, healed the multitudes, taught on the mountain, and called and enlightened his disciples, a storm swirled around the lake. It was a bit odd to watch. I was sitting on a rock enjoying 80 degree weather with the sun beating down on me. Where I was, the air was still enough to hear a songbird's trill. Below me, a tempest was raging: thunder, lightening, and wind violently shifting, moving quickly from one corner of the lake to the next. The caged lion could not free itself! Suddenly, the rain would swirl towards our end of lake and the wind would blow up the side of the cliff. Then, as emphatically as it demanded our attention, the storm would move on leaving a quiet, calm trail in its wake.   

Throughout the day, no matter where we were, the storm kept returning to find us. A few raindrops at lunch in Tiberias, a torrential downpour while driving through the Gallean hills, a brilliant rainbow over the lake reminding us of God’s promise, and a crimson-stained cloud-pocked sunset after viewing icons at the Orthodox monastery in Capernaum.

Observing this whirlwind lent new understanding to the stories of the violent storms mentioned in the New Testament. Such storms are common in this region and would have been familiar to Jesus and his fisherman disciples. Given the quick shifts in wind and wave, it makes more sense when Jesus admonishes them not to let fear dominate.

Why is it that even when I, like them, know the lay of the land and comprehend the cycles of seeming catastrophe that I still become bound up by fear? I recognize myself in their cry, "God, don't you care? Have you left us to fend for ourselves?"  

Jeannie mused that when Jesus calmed the storm, the true miracle might not have been Jesus' prowess as a cosmic weatherman. Although that was certainly no small feat, the stunner may have been Jesus' invitation to the disciples to trust him in the circumstances in which they found themselves. Storms come and go. They ebb and flow. Unsettling, unexpected, and uncontrollable as they may be, we noted that here on the Galilean Sea, the winds always shift and relief comes. Even thundering turbulence brings its own beauty and power. Do you have eyes to see it?!

At the heart of all of this remains Jesus underlying question to me, to us. "Do you trust me?” I hear this echoed in Jesus' command to Peter, when after a hard night of fishing, he tells him to leave everything and follow. It is same invitation given to Peter after the resurrection, when, on that same shore, Jesus confronts Peter's return to his old profession and challenges him again to fulfill God's call.  

Follow me, Jesus demands of Peter and demands of me, demands of all of us who call him Lord. Do not be afraid when the wind kicks up and blows us over. There was no greater storm than dying on that cross. We can trust Jesus to pick us up and dry us off.  Storms abate and suffering eases. Sometimes the circumstance change and sometimes the transformation is within. Hope renews and trust deepens. Whatever the case, Jesus is at the center of it all.