This story comes from where I grew in the Deep South. A farmer worked all his life to build a little vacation spot for himself over in one of his fields. He dammed up a stream; made a little pond for fishing, nearby a barbecue, picnic table, and pits for playing horseshoes. One evening as he was walking down to do some fishing, he was surprised to hear young girls giggling in the water; a pile of clothes on the bank; half-dozen young ladies were going skinny dipping in his pond. Seeing him approach, they squealed, moved to the deep end of the pond, and shouted for him to leave so they could come out of the water and get dressed. Both amused and agitated, the old farmer told them they could swim as long as they liked and he would give them no trouble. Then he picked up a bucket and walked toward the pond. He said, "I won’t bother you at all, I just came down here to feed my pet alligator."

Both the old farmer and the young girls are startled and unprepared for the new situation they find themselves in. Just like Jesus’ disciples when the storm fills their boats with water. All day long Jesus has been teaching the crowds in parables. A parable is a short, simple story, easy to understand, but not so easy to follow, because the news in the story asks you to wake up, to repent, to welcome how God is working to love and to save the human race. Simple to understand with your mind, tougher to trust the God who calls you to look at yourself and everyone else through new lenses God gives you. God sends new lenses for our eyes to focus on new vision.

Is there really a pet alligator in the fishing pond? What to do? Do you fear or do we trust? Evening comes, Jesus’ voice needs rest. "Come, let’s go across the lake to the other side." They launch some boats and set out to cross the Sea of Galilee. What happens next becomes a living parable, a real life story so Jesus can teach his disciples, and us today, about the coming of the Kingdom of God. These fishermen know how quickly storms come out of nowhere on this sea, winds, rain, giant waves tossing the boats, filling them with water; terrifying experience when you fear your boat is about to be swamped and you’re miles from shore.

And Jesus, their Lord and rabbi, is sound asleep in the stern, lying on a cushion, snoring away, dead to the world, this world they fear will send them all to the bottom of the sea. How can Jesus who teaches salvation, care nothing they are about to perish? "Do you not care, we are perishing?" Jesus wakes up, brushes the cobwebs out of his eyes, sees the situation, rebukes the wind, and says to the sea, "Peace Be silent," or, "Shut up!" for the roar of the wind seems to speak doom. At once, the wind dies away and the waves level out to a dead calm. This danger is over.

Seeing the danger outside now gone, Jesus turns to his disciples, to the danger within them. "What are you afraid of? Have you still no faith?" They are struck dumb, filled with great fear and huddle together, "Who, then, is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" Can we trust this one? The storm is over, but now do they fear or trust this one who stilled the storm? They are learning, but do not yet know this is not only their teacher, but this Jesus is also the Son of God who creates all nature, all wind, all rain and all seas. Can they, should they trust this one, without such knowledge and confidence? Jesus brings saving acts of love, and these humans don’t yet know whether to fear or trust him. His awesome power over this awful storm does not remove their doubts. They are now more afraid of him than they were of the storm. "Do you still have no faith?" Jesus saves them from the storm, but here is the dilemma this text put to them and to us, his saving action fills them with as much fear as faith.

In our modern, post-modern world, we might interpret this story to show Jesus has authority to control nature, when our skepticism may doubt such divine intervention. The original story affirms Jesus’ power and authority; that is not the issue here. The issue here is since Jesus most certainly does exercise power and authority over nature; just what does this mean for his disciples and for us. And this parable, or teaching narrative shows the issue to be that storms within us outrank storms outside us. Can they, should they, will they trust and believe in this one who is so awesome? They must decide for themselves and this episode on the sea does not decide for them, but what this episode does is put the question to them squarely, "Who, then, is this?" this one whom even the wind and the sea obey?" They ask the right question. How will they now answer this question? Can they move forward, from their fear, to trust this one, whoever he is?

And so do we, you and I, bring our comfort zones to Jesus and expect him to shelter us from our own storms, storms outside us and storms within that threaten us. Jesus invites his disciples to set out away from the comfort of their Judean homeland and to go across that Sea of Galilee, to the other side, for on the other side live the Gentiles, foreigners, strangers, unclean sinners, but part of the world whom Jesus comes to save. Jesus says them and us, "You shall be my witnesses, beginning here at home, and going unto the whole world." Jesus does not promise smooth sailing over calm seas in our missionary journey. In fact, it may look to his disciples, and to us, that Jesus is asleep, absent or paying no attention when storms arise, as storms always flare up on that ancient Sea and on the Seas we row our boats across today. Storms outside us, storms within us.

Dare we say this, Jesus does indeed sleep from time to time, if we understand ourselves as the body of Christ, disciples in whom our Lord lives and dwells, then surely we, even as we bear Christ’s Spirit and name within us, surely we fall asleep in the stern of this ship Christ’s church and we need someone to shout out our name and rouse us up out of our sleep when we face the powerful storm tossing us about.

If you remember western church architecture, the central aisle of the church or the cathedral is the nave, from the same Latin word as Navy, showing the deeply ingrained picture of the church as the ship, as the vessel God uses to transport us, God’s people, from the entrance, the front door, baptism, all the way down the aisle up to the table and pulpit where we meet our Lord whose grace carries us onward to our abundant and eternal life in God’s Kingdom.

This ship our church is sailing on the Sea of this mission to witness for Christ. And Christ does not promise to prevent storms from arising. Christ does promise to be with us during whatever storm threatens us and Christ promises to still the storm, save us from its danger, and challenge us to move from our fear to faith and trust, when we hear and answer the same question, "Who, then, is this?" How do we answer this question? Who is this one?

Storms, or new challenges, are before us now as we seek to rouse ourselves, our church out of slumber and prepare to witness to Christ in our future, as our parents and grandparents have witnessed here for decades. You remember the cliché, "How many Presbyterians does it take to change a light bulb?" and the fearful answer is "Change????"

We learned last Sunday how our new Pastor is a "guitar pick’n and grin’n" preacher and if you want to hear hip, swinging music, from now on you don’t have to go to the Civic Center or the Clay Center, or the Empty Glass Pub. Now you come to First Presby. Now I don’t remember any other pastor here picking up a guitar to lead us, do you? Guy Lynch plays a mean guitar. And when Bill and Guy get together and play, they are awesome. Add Dave, Andy and Brett and this ensemble becomes downright dangerous! Now Dean Thompson did not play guitar, nor did Tony Tucker, nor Benny Benfield, nor George Vick. Does our pick’n and grin’n preacher, a notable change in pastoral leadership, call for fear or for faith? What kinds of new leadership does this pick’n and grin’n pastor bring to us?

Our beautiful church has served Christ’s mission for ninety years, but now these buildings need extensive repairs to roof, to dome and cupola, to stained glass windows, to heating and air conditioning. Does our need to upgrade our fellowship areas, our need to overhaul outreach efforts and communication ministries, does all this need for vision and for a necessary capital campaign make us fearful or does this need we have challenge us to trust the same God who called our ancestors to follow and to witness here in First Presbyterian Church?

Over fifty years ago this congregation was a pioneer in choosing to broadcast our Sunday morning service on the radio. And that was when naysayers in the church were very fearful of this new invention radio. Some feared it was the work of the devil. Not fear but trust and faith have paid for this broadcast all these years.

Now how do we assess and respond to all the vast changes in media that are sweeping over us much like that sudden storm on the Sea of Galilee. Today we are overwhelmed by the onslaught of media that bombards us every minute from every direction. If we feel caught up in a Tower of Babel of voices, let us remember that the rush of mighty winds should give us the vision of Pentecost, with tongues of fire, and witness that overcomes all human barriers to communication. Every storm of change calls forth fear or faith, cowardice or trust in the Christ whose calming voice paves the way for us to answer not with fear nor with cowardice, but with our faith and our trust so that we may continue to witness here at the corner of Virginia and Leon Sullivan and from here to the ends of the earth.

When we give our answer to this question, "Who, then, is this?" growing out of our faith and trust in our Lord who calls us to witness, we shall be empowered to do what we say we want to do: "We aim for First Presbyterian Church to be a welcoming home, a beacon of Christ’s light arising from inspiring worship and loving discipleship."