Leaving the multitude, they took him with them, even as he was, in the boat. Other small boats were also with him. A big wind storm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so much that the boat was already filled. He himself was in the stern, asleep on the cushion, and they woke him up, and told him, “Teacher, don’t you care that we are dying?”
He awoke, and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” The wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? How is it that you have no faith?”
They were greatly afraid, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
Geneva Bible translators 1599 · Public Domain On vv37, 40 They that sail with Christ, although he seems to…
They that sail with Christ, although he seems to sleep never so soundly when they are in danger, yet they are preserved of him in time convenient, being awakened.
Geneva Bible (1599) marginal notes — public domain.
John Trapp 1656 · Public Domain On vv36–41 36 And when they had sent away the multitude,…
36 And when they had sent away the multitude, they took him even as he was in the ship. And there were also with him other little ships.
Ver. 36. They took him] viz. Out of that part of the ship where he had taught, into another part more convenient, where he might rest. For he had preached all that day, till the evening, without taking either repast or repose, Mar 4:1.
John Trapp, A Commentary or Exposition upon All the Books of the Old and New Testament (1647–1656) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
John Gill 1763 · Public Domain On v36 And they feared exceedingly,.... That is, the men in…
And they feared exceedingly,.... That is, the men in the ship, the mariners to whom the ship belonged, and who had the management of it:
and said to one another, as persons in the greatest amazement,
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what manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him? Surely this person must not be a mere man; he must be more than a man; he must be truly God, that has such power over the wind and sea. This best suits with the mariners, since the disciples must have known before, who and what he was; though they might be more established and confirmed in the truth of Christ's deity, by this wonderful instance of his power.
Next: Mark Chapter 5
John Gill's Exposition of the Whole Bible (1746–1763) — public domain (CC PDM 1.0). Text via the HelloAO Bible API.
John Wesley 1765 · Public Domain On vv36, 38, 39 They take him as he was in the vessel…
They take him as he was in the vessel - They carried him immediately in the same vessel from which he had been preaching to the people.
John Wesley, Explanatory Notes Upon the Whole Bible (1754–1765) — public domain. Text via the GEBible commentary corpus.
Adam Clarke 1810 · Public Domain On vv36–41 Verse 36. THEY took him even as he was…
Verse 36. THEY took him even as he was in the ship.] That is, the disciples; he was now εν τω πλοιω, in the boat, i.e. his own boat which usually waited on him, and out of which it appears he was then teaching the people. There were several others there which he might have gone in, had this one not been in the place. The construction of this verse is exceedingly difficult; the meaning appears to be this: - The disciples sailed off with him just as he was in the boat out of which he had been teaching the people; and they did not wait to provide any accommodations for the passage. This I believe to be the meaning of the inspired penman.
Adam Clarke's Commentary on the Bible (1810–1826) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.
The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges 1878 · Public Domain On vv36–39 36. as he was] i. e. without any preparation…
36. as he was] i. e. without any preparation for the voyage. Just before the boat put off three of the listeners to His words desired to attach themselves to Him as His disciples, (1) a scribe, (2) an already partial disciple, (3) another who wished first to bid farewell to his friends at home (Mat_8:19-22; Luk_9:57-62).
The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges (gen. ed. J. J. S. Perowne; Cambridge University Press, 1878–1918) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Ellicott's Commentary for English Readers 1878 · Public Domain On vv36–39 (36) They took him even as he was.—The phrase…
(36) They took him even as he was.—The phrase is peculiar to this Gospel, and seems to point to the impression made on the mind of St. Mark’s informant by the utter exhaustion that followed on the long day’s labours. St. John’s statement that our Lord, on His journey through Samaria, “being wearied . . . sat thus on the well” (Joh_4:6), presents an interesting parallel.
A Bible Commentary for English Readers, edited by Charles John Ellicott (1878–1897) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Pulpit Commentary 1880 · Public Domain On vv37–41 And there arose a great storm of wind; literally,…
And there arose a great storm of wind; literally, there ariseth (ginetai lailaq). St. Mark often uses the historical present, which gives vigor and point to his narrative. And the waves beat into the boat, insomuch that the boat was now filling (hdh gemizesyai). St. Matthew says, (Mat_8:24) "the boat was covered with the waves." St. Luke, (Luk_8:23) "they were filling with water, and were in jeopardy." Bede and ethers have thought that the boat in which Christ was the only boat that was tossed by this storm; in order that Christ might show his power in limiting the area of the tempest. But it is far more probable that the ether boats were subject to it; for they were very near to the boat in which Christ was. There must have been some reason for the allusion to these boats; and the wider the reach of the tempest, the greater would appear the Divine power of Christ in stilling it, and the greater the amount of testimony to the reality of the miracle. The miracle was wrought to show his power over all creation, the sea as well as the dry land; and that they, his disciples, and all who were with him might believe in him as the Omnipotent God. But further, this tempest on the sea of Galilee was a type and symbol of the trials and temptations which should come on the Church. For the Church of God is as a ship in a storm, ever tossed upon "the waves of this troublesome world." And then, moreover, as the rude storm urges the ship onwards, so that it more quickly reaches the desired haven, so afflictions and temptations quicken Christ"s disciples to the greater desire of holiness, by which they are borne onwards more speedily to "the haven where they would be.
Vers. 37-39. The Christian"s extremity Christ"s opportunity.
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I THE CHRISTIAN FREQUENTLY SUFFERED TO ENTER INTO APPARENT PERIL.
1. Outward losses troubles Persecution in its various phases and degrees. The major calamities of life. Everything seems against him, and he is continually disappointed; yet the objects sought are reasonable and proper.
2. Inward griefs and fears. Self-questionings as to being in a state of grace; as to whether or not God"s favor has been turned away doubts; prevailing sins.
II IN THESE CIRCUMSTANCES ORDINARY MEANS OF DELIVERANCE ARE OF SO AVAIL. The ordinances of the Church fail to comfort or strengthen. Work for Christ becomes distasteful and mechanical. Prayer itself appears to be unanswered, etc.
III THE REASONS FOR THIS.
1. To correct and strengthen character. Besetting weakness is discovered; defective principles of belief are exposed; the backward graces of the Spirit are stimulated; the whole nature is roused to keener sensitiveness, and awakened to the solemn responsibility and greatness of the Divine life.
2. A more signal and immediate manifestation of God is vouchsafed.
(1) To create a closer and higher communion, and a more vivid sense of the supernatural, and to deepen and correct the creed of the believer. A conscious dependence upon his heavenly Father takes the place of the former distance and semi-legalism. Self and self-dependence are subdued, and practical faith made the daily experience. One such great and signal providence may do more than anything else to elevate and confirm the spiritual life.
(2) To be a sign to them that are without. For a "means of grace," or simply as a warning and an undeniable demonstration, which may make them, with the devils, "believe and tremble" even in their rebellion. M.
The Pulpit Commentary (1880–1919), ed. H.D.M. Spence-Jones & Joseph S. Exell — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Expositor's Bible 1887 · Public Domain On v39 CHAPTER 4:39, 5:15, 5:31, 5:41 (Mar_4:39; Mar_5:15; Mar_5:31; Mar_5:41)
CHAPTER 4:39, 5:15, 5:31, 5:41 (Mar_4:39; Mar_5:15; Mar_5:31; Mar_5:41)
FOUR MIRACLES
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"And there was a great calm." Mar_4:39 (R.V.)
"Behold, him that was possessed with devils, sitting, clothed and in his right mind, even him that had the legion." Mar_5:15 (R.V.)
"Who touched Me?" Mar_5:31 (R.V.)
"Talitha cumi." Mar_5:41 (R.V.)
THERE are two ways, equally useful, of studying Scripture, as there are of regarding the other book of God, the face of Nature. We may bend over a wild flower, or gaze across a landscape; and it will happen that a naturalist, pursuing a moth, loses sight of a mountain range. It is a well-known proverb, that one may fail to see the wood for the trees, losing in details the general effect. And so the careful student of isolated texts may never perceive the force and cohesion of a connected passage.
The reader of a Gospel narrative thinks, that by pondering it as a whole, he secures himself against any such misfortune. But a narrative dislocated, often loses as much as a detached verse. The actions of our Lord are often exquisitely grouped, as becometh Him Who hath made everything not beautiful only, but especially beautiful in its season. And we should not be content without combining the two ways of reading Scripture, the detailed and the rapid, -- lingering at times to apprehend the marvelous force of a solitary verse, and again sweeping over a broad expanse, like a surveyor, who, to map a country, stretches his triangle from mountain peak to peak.
We have reached a point at which St. Mark records a special outshining of miraculous power. Four striking works follow each other without a break, and it must not for a moment be supposed that the narrative is thus constructed, certain intermediate discourses and events being sacrificed for the purpose, without a deliberate and a truthful intention. That intention is to represent the effect, intense and exalting, produced by such a cycle of wonders on the minds of His disciples. They saw them come close upon each other: we should lose the impression as we read, if other incidents were allowed to interpose themselves. It is one more example of St. Mark's desire to throw light, above all things, upon the energy and power of the sacred life.
We have to observe therefore the bearing of these four miracles on each other, and upon what precedes, before studying them one by one.
It was a time of trial. The Pharisees had decided that He had a devil. His relatives had said He was beside Himself. His manner of teaching had changed, because the people should see without perceiving, and hear without understanding. They who understood His parables heard much of seed that failed, of success a great way off, of a kingdom which would indeed be great at last, but for the present weak and small. And it is certain that there must have been heavy hearts among those who left, with Him, the populous side of the lake, to cross over into remote and semi-pagan retirement. To encourage them, and as if in protest against His rejection by the authorities, Jesus enters upon this great cycle of miracles.
They find themselves, as the Church has often since been placed, and as every human soul has had to feel itself, far from shore, and tempest-beaten. The rage of human foes is not so deaf, so implacable, as that of wind and wave. It is the stress of adverse circumstances in the direst form. But Jesus proves Himself to be Master of the forces of nature which would overwhelm them.
Nay, they learn that His seeming indifference is no proof that they are neglected, by the rebuke He speaks to their over-importunate appeals, Why are ye so fearful? have ye not yet faith? And they, who might have been shaken by the infidelity of other men, fear exceedingly as they behold the obedience of the wind and the sea, and ask, Who then is this?
But in their mission as His disciples, a worse danger than the enmity of man or convulsions of nature awaits them. On landing, they are at once confronted by one whom an evil spirit has made exceeding fierce, so that no man could pass by that way. It is their way nevertheless, and they must tread it. And the demoniac adores, and the evil spirits themselves are abject in supplication, and at the word of Jesus are expelled. Even the inhabitants, who will not receive Him, are awe-struck and deprecatory, and if at their bidding Jesus turns away again, His followers may judge whether the habitual meekness of such a one is due to feebleness or to a noble self-command.
Landing once more, they are soon accosted by a ruler of the synagogue, whom sorrow has purified from the prejudices of his class. And Jesus is about to heal the daughter of Jairus, when another form of need is brought to light. A slow and secret decline, wasting the vital powers, a silent woe, speechless, stealthily approaching the Healer--over this grief also He is Lord. And it is seen that neither the visible actions of Jesus nor the audible praises of His petitioners can measure the power that goes out of Him, the physical benefits which encompass the Teacher as a halo envelopes flame.
Circumstances, and the fiends of the pit, and the woes that waste the lives of men, over these He has been seen to triumph. But behind all that we strive with here, there lurks the last enemy, and he also shall be subdued. And now first an example is recorded of what we know to have already taken place, the conquest of death by his predicted Spoiler. Youth and gentle maidenhood, high hope and prosperous circumstances have been wasted, but the call of Jesus is heard by the ear that was stopped with dust, and the spirit obeys Him in the far off realm of the departed, and they who have just seen such other marvels, are nevertheless amazed with a great amazement.
No cycle of miracles could be more rounded, symmetrical and exhaustive; none could better vindicate to His disciples his impugned authority, or brace their endangered faith, or fit them for what almost immediately followed, their own commission, and the first journey upon which they too cast out many devils, and anointed with oil many that were sick, and healed them.
William Robertson Nicoll, ed., The Expositor's Bible (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1887–1910) — public domain. 65 of 66 books (1 Corinthians is not separately keyed, as that volume carries no machine-parseable verse references); section-level commentary keyed to the opening verse. Introductory and overview sections not keyed to a specific passage are excluded.
B. W. Johnson 1891 · Public Domain On vv37, 41 37. There arose a great storm. See notes on…
37. There arose a great storm. See notes on Matt. 8:23–27. Compare Luke 8:22–25. The Sea of Galilee lies 600 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, and has a tropical climate. Only a short distance north are the high mountains of Lebanon. The heated air about the sea invites the rush of cold waves from the mountains.
B. W. Johnson's The People's New Testament with Notes (1889–1891) — public domain. Electronic text from the Christian Classics Ethereal Library (CCEL) ThML edition.
Alexander MacLaren 1905 · Public Domain On vv36–39
Mark
THE STORM STILLED
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THE TOILING CHRIST
Mar 4:36, Mar 4:38.
Among the many loftier characteristics belonging to Christ’s life and work, there is a very homely one which is often lost sight of; and that is, the amount of hard physical exertion, prolonged even to fatigue and exhaustion, which He endured.
Christ is our pattern in a great many other things more impressive and more striking; and He is our pattern in this, that ‘in the sweat of His brow’ He did His work, and knew not only what it was to suffer, but what it was to toil for man’s salvation. And, perhaps, if we thought a little more than we do of such a prosaic characteristic of His life as that, it might invest it with some more reality for us, besides teaching us other large and important lessons.
I have thrown together these two clauses for our text now, simply for the sake of that one feature which they both portray so strikingly.
‘They took Him even as He was in the ship.’ Now many expositors suppose that in the very form of that phrase there is suggested the extreme of weariness and exhaustion which He suffered, after the hard day’s toil. Whether that be so or no, the swiftness of the move to the little boat, although there was nothing in the nature of danger or of imperative duty to hurry Him away, and His going on board without a moment’s preparation, leaving the crowd on the beach, seem most naturally accounted for by supposing that He had come to the last point of physical endurance, and that His frame, worn out by the hard day’s work, needed one thing-rest.
And so, the next that we see of Him is that, as soon as He gets into the ship He falls fast asleep on the wooden pillow-a hard bed for His head!-in the stern of the little fishing boat, and there He lies so tired-let us put it into plain prose and strip away the false veil of big words with which we invest that nature-so tired that the storm does not awake Him; and they have to come to Him, and lay their hands upon Him, and say to Him, ‘Master, carest Thou not that we perish?’ before compassion again beat back fatigue, and quickened Him for fresh exertions.
This, then, is the one lesson which I wish to consider now, and there are three points which I deal with in pursuance of my task. I wish to point out a little more in detail the signs that we have in the Gospels of this characteristic of Christ’s work-the toilsomeness of His service; then to consider, secondly, the motives which He Himself tells us impelled to such service; and then, finally, the worth which that toil bears for us.
I. First, then, let me point out some of the significant hints which the gospel records give us of the toilsomeness of Christ’s service.
Now we are principally indebted for these to this Gospel by Mark, which ancient tradition has set forth as being especially and eminently the ‘Gospel of the Servant of God,’ therein showing a very accurate conception of its distinguishing characteristics. Just as Matthew’s Gospel is the Gospel of the King, regal in tone from beginning to end; just as Luke’s is the Gospel of the Man, human and universal in its tone; just as John’s is the Gospel of the Eternal Word, so Mark’s is the Gospel of the Servant. The inscription written over it all might be, ‘Lo, I come to do Thy will, O God.’ ‘Behold my Servant whom I uphold.’
And if you will take this briefest of all the Gospels, and read it over from that point of view, you will be surprised to discover what a multitude of minute traits make up the general impression, and what a unity is thereby breathed into the narrative.
For instance, did you ever observe the peculiar beginning of this Gospel? There are here none of the references to the prophecies of the King, no tracing of His birth through the royal stock to the great progenitor of the nation, no adoration by the Eastern sages, which we find in Matthew, no miraculous birth nor growing childhood as in Luke, no profound unveiling of the union of the Word with God before the world was, as in John; but the narrative begins with His baptism, and passes at once to the story of His work. The same ruling idea accounts for the uniform omission of the title ‘Lord’ which in Mark’s Gospel is never applied to Christ until after the resurrection. There is only one apparent exception, and there good authorities pronounce the word to be spurious. Even in reports of conversations which are also given in the other Gospels, and where ‘Lord’ occurs, Mark, of set purpose, omits it, as if its presence would disturb the unity of the impression which he desires to leave. You will find the investigation of the omissions in this Gospel full of interest, and remarkably tending to confirm the accuracy of the view which regards it as the Gospel of the Servant.
Notice then these traits of His service which it brings out.
The first of them I would suggest is-how distinctly it gives the impression of swift, strenuous work. The narrative is brief and condensed. We feel, all through these earlier chapters, at all events, the presence of the pressing crowd coming to Him and desiring to be healed, and but a word can be spared for each incident as the story hurries on, trying to keep pace with His rapid service of quick-springing compassion and undelaying help. There is one word which is reiterated over and over again in these earlier chapters, remarkably conveying this impression of haste and strenuous work; Mark’s favourite word is ‘straightway,’ ‘immediately,’ ‘forthwith,’ ‘anon,’ which are all translations of one expression. You will find, if you glance over the first, second, or third chapters at your leisure, that it comes in at every turn. Take these instances which strike one’s eye at the moment. ‘Straightway they forsook their nets’; ‘Straightway He entered into the synagogue’; ‘Immediately His fame spread abroad throughout all the region’; ‘Forthwith they entered into the house of Simon’s mother’; ‘Anon, they tell Him of her’; ‘Immediately the fever left her.’ And so it goes on through the whole story, a picture of a constant succession of rapid acts of mercy and love. The story seems, as it were, to pant with haste to keep up with Him as He moves among men, swift as a sunbeam, and continuous in the outflow of His love as are these unceasing rays.
Again, we see in Christ’s service, toil prolonged to the point of actual physical exhaustion. The narrative before us is the most striking instance of that which we meet with. It had been a long wearying day of work. According to this chapter, the whole of the profound parables concerning the kingdom of God had immediately preceded the embarkation. But even these, with their explanation, had been but a part of that day’s labours. For, in Matthew’s account of them, we are told that they were spoken on the same day as that on which His mother and brethren came desiring to speak with Him,-or, as we elsewhere read, with hostile intentions to lay hold on Him as mad and needing restraint. And that event, which we may well believe touched deep and painful chords of feeling in His human heart, and excited emotions more exhausting than much physical effort, occurred in the midst of an earnest and prolonged debate with emissaries from Jerusalem, in the course of which He spoke the solemn words concerning blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, and Satan casting out Satan, and poured forth some of His most terrible warnings, and some of His most beseeching entreaties. No wonder that, after such a day, the hard pillow of the boat was a soft resting-place for His wearied head; no wonder that, as the evening quiet settled down on the mountain-girdled lake, and the purple shadows of the hills stretched athwart the water, He slept; no wonder that the storm which followed the sunset did not wake Him; and beautiful, that wearied as He was, the disciples’ cry at once rouses Him, and the fatigue which shows His manhood gives place to the divine energy which says unto the sea, ‘Peace! be still.’ The lips which, a moment before, had been parted in the soft breathing of wearied sleep, now open to utter the omnipotent word-so wonderfully does He blend the human and the divine, ‘the form of a servant’ and the nature of God.
We see, in Christ, toil that puts aside the claims of physical wants. Twice in this Gospel we read of this ‘The multitude cometh together again, so that they could not so much as eat bread.’ ‘There were many coming, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.’
We see in Christ’s service a love which is at every man’s beck and call, a toil cheerfully rendered at the most unreasonable and unseasonable times. As I said a moment or two ago, this Gospel makes one feel, as none other of these narratives do, the pressure of that ever-present multitude, the whirling excitement that eddied round the calm centre. It tells us, for instance, more than once, how Christ, wearied with His toil, feeling in body and in spirit the need of rest and still communion, withdrew Himself from the crowd. He once departed alone that He might seek God in prayer; once He went with His wearied disciples apart into a desert place to rest awhile. On both occasions the retirement is broken in upon before it is well begun. The sigh of relief in the momentary rest is scarcely drawn, and the burden laid down for an instant, when it has to be lifted again. His solitary prayer is interrupted by the disciples, with ‘All men seek for Thee,’ and, without a murmur or a pause, He buckles to His work again, and says, ‘Let us go into the next towns that I may preach there also; for therefore am I sent.’
When He would carry His wearied disciples with Him for a brief breathing time to the other side of the sea, and get away from the thronging crowd, ‘the people saw Him departing, and ran afoot out of all cities,’ and, making their way round the head of the lake, were all there at the landing place before Him. Instead of seclusion and repose He found the same throng and bustle. Here they were, most of them from mere curiosity, some of them no doubt with deeper feelings; here they were, with their diseased and their demoniacs, and as soon as His foot touches the shore He is in the midst of it all again. And He meets it, not with impatience at this rude intrusion on His privacy, not with refusals to help. Only one emotion filled His heart. He forgot all about weariness, and hunger, and retirement, and ‘He was moved with compassion towards them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd, and He began to teach them many things.’ Such a picture may well shame our languid, self-indulgent service, may stir us to imitation and to grateful praise.
There is only one other point which I touch upon for a moment, as showing the toil of Christ, and that is drawn from another Gospel. Did you ever notice the large space occupied in Matthew’s Gospel by the record of the last day of His public ministry, and how much of all that we know of His mission and message, and the future of the world and of all men, we owe to the teaching of these four-and-twenty hours? Let me put together, in a word, what happened on that day.
It included the conversation with the chief priests and elders about the baptism of John, the parable of the householder that planted a vineyard and digged a winepress, the parables of the kingdom of heaven, the controversy with the Herodians about the tribute money, the conversation with the Sadducees about the resurrection, with the Pharisee about the great commandment in the law, the silencing of the Pharisees by pointing to the 110th Psalm, the warning to the multitude against the scribes and Pharisees who were hypocrites, protracted and prolonged up to that wail of disappointed love, ‘Behold! your house is left unto you desolate.’ And, as though that had not been enough for one day, when He is going home from the Temple to find, for a night, in that quiet little home of Bethany, the rest that He wants, as He rests wearily on the slopes of Olivet, the disciples come to Him, ‘Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign of Thy coming?’ and there follows all that wonderful prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world, the parable of the fig tree, the warning not to suffer the thief to come, and the promise of reward for the faithful and wise servant, the parable of the ten virgins, and in all probability the parable of the king with the five talents; and the words, that might be written in letters of fire, that tell us the final course of all things, and the judgment of life eternal and death everlasting! All this was the work of ‘one of the days of the Son of Man.’ Of Him it was prophesied long ago, ‘For Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest’; and His life on earth, as well as His life in heaven, fulfils the prediction-the one by the toilsomeness of His service, the other by the unceasing energy of His exalted power. He toiled unwearied here, He works unresting there.
II. In the second place, let me ask you to notice how we get from our Lord’s own words a glimpse into the springs of this wonderful activity.
There are three points which distinctly come out in various places in the Gospels as His motives for such unresting sedulousness and continuance of toil. The first is conveyed by such words as these: ‘I must work the works of Him that sent Me.’ ‘Let us preach to other cities, also: for therefore am I sent.’ ‘Wist ye not that I must be about My Father’s business?’ ‘My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me, and to finish His work.’ All these express one thought. Christ lived and toiled, and bore weariness and exhaustion, and counted every moment as worthy to be garnered up and precious, as to be filled with deeds of love and kindness, because wherever He went, and to whatsoever He set His hand, He had the one consciousness of a great task laid upon Him by a loving Father whom He loved, and whom, therefore, it was His joy and His blessedness to serve.
And, remember that this motive made the life homogeneous-of a piece. In all the variety of service, one spirit was expressed, and, therefore, the service was one. No matter whether He were speaking words of grace or of rebuke, or working works of power and love, or simply looking a look of kindness on some outcast, or taking a little child in His arms, or stilling with the same arms outstretched the wild uproar of the storm-it was all the same. To Him life was all one. There was nothing great, nothing small; nothing so insignificant that it could be done negligently; nothing so hard that it surpassed His power. The one motive made all duties equal; obedience to the Father called forth His whole energy at every moment. To Him life was not divided into a set of tasks of varying importance, some of which could be accomplished with a finger’s touch, and some of which demanded a dead lift and strain of all the muscles. But whatsoever His hand found to do He did with His might and that because He felt, be it great or little, that it all came, if I may so say, into the day’s work, and all was equally great because the Father that sent Him had laid it upon Him.
There is one thing that makes life mighty in its veriest trifles, worthy in its smallest deeds, that delivers it from monotony, that delivers it from insignificance. All will be great, and nothing will be overpowering, when, living in communion with Jesus Christ, we say as He says, ‘My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me.’
And then, still further, another of the secret springs that move His unwearied activity, His heroism of toil, is the thought expressed in such words as these:-’While I am in the world I am the light of the world.’ ‘I must work the works of Him that sent Me while it is day; the night cometh when no man can work.’
Jesus Christ manifested on earth performs indeed a work-the mightiest which He came to do-which was done precisely then when the night did come-namely, the work of His death, which is the atonement and ‘propitiation for the sins of the world.’ And, further, the ‘night, when no man can work,’ was not the end of His activity for us; for He carries on His work of intercession and rule, His work of bestowing the gifts purchased by His blood, amidst the glories of heaven; and that perpetual application and dispensing of the blessed issues of His death He has Himself represented as greater than the works, to which His death put a period, in which He healed the bodies and spoke to the hearts of those who heard, and lived a perfect life here upon this sinful earth. But yet even He recognised the brief hour of sunny life as being an hour that must be filled with service, and recognised the fact that there was a task that He could only do when He lived the life of a man upon earth. And so, if I might so say, He was a miser of the moments, and carefully husbanding and garnering up every capacity and every opportunity. He toiled with the toil of a man who has a task before him, that must be done before the clock strikes six, and who sees the hands move over the dial, and by every glance that he casts at it is stimulated to intenser service and to harder toil. Christ felt that impulse to service which we all ought to feel-’The night cometh; let me fill the day with work.’
And then there is a final motive which I need barely touch. He was impelled to His sedulous service not only by loving, filial obedience to the divine law, and by the consciousness of a limited and defined period into which all the activity of one specific kind must be condensed, but also by the motive expressed in such words as these, in which this Gospel is remarkably rich, ‘And Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth His hand and touched him.’ Thus, along with that supreme consecration, along with that swift ardour that will fill the brief hours ere nightfall with service, there was the constant pity of that beating heart that moved the diligent hand. Christ, if I may so say, could not help working as hard as He did, so long as there were so many men round about Him that needed His sympathy and His aid.
III. So much then for the motives; and now a word finally as to the worth of this toil for us.
I do not stay to elucidate one consideration that might be suggested, viz., how precious a proof it is of Christ’s humanity. We find it easier to bring home His true manhood to our thoughts, when we remember that He, like us, knew the pressure of physical fatigue. Not only was it a human spirit that wept and rejoiced, that was moved with compassion, and sometimes with indignation, but it was a human body, bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, that, wearied with walking in the burning sun, sat on the margin of the well; that was worn out and needed to sleep; that knew hunger, as is testified by His sending the disciples to buy meat; that was thirsty, as is testified by His saying, ‘Give Me to drink.’ The true corporeal manhood of Jesus Christ, and the fact that that manhood is the tabernacle of God-without these two facts the morality and the teaching of Christianity swing loose in vacuo, and have no holdfast in history, nor any leverage by which they can move men’s hearts! But, when we know that the common necessities of fatigue, and hunger, and thirst belonged to Him, then we gratefully and reverently say, ‘Forasmuch as the children were partakers of flesh and blood, he also Himself took part of the same.’
This fact of Christ’s toil is of worth to us in other ways.
Is not that hard work of Jesus Christ a lesson for us, brethren, in our daily tasks and toils-a lesson which, if it were learnt and practised, would make a difference not only on the intensity but upon the spirit with which we labour? A great deal of fine talk is indulged in about the dignity of labour and the like. Labour is a curse until communion with God in it, which is possible through Jesus Christ, makes it a blessing and a joy. Christ, in the sweat of His brow, won our salvation; and our work only becomes great when it is work done in, and for, and by Him.
And what do we learn from His example? We learn these things: the plain lesson, first,-task all your capacity and use every minute in doing the duty that is plainly set before you to do. Christian virtues are sometimes thought to be unreal and unworldly things. I was going to say the root of them, certainly the indispensable accompaniment for them all, is the plain, prosaic, most unromantic virtue of hard work.
And beyond that, what do we learn? The lesson that most toilers in England want. There is no need to preach to the most of us to work any harder, in one department of work at any rate; but there is great need to remind us of what it was that at once stirred Jesus Christ into energy and kept Him calm in the midst of labour-and that was that everything was equally and directly referred to His Father’s will. People talk nowadays about ‘missions.’ The only thing worth giving that name to is the ‘mission’ which He gives us, who sends us into the world not to do our own will, but to do the will of Him that sent us. There is a fatal monotony in all our lives-a terrible amount of hard drudgery in them all. We have to set ourselves morning after morning to tasks that look to be utterly insignificant and disproportionate to the power that we bring to bear upon them, so that men are like elephants picking up pins with their trunks; and yet we may make all our commonplace drudgery great, and wondrous, and fair, and full of help and profit to our souls, if, over it all-our shops, our desks, our ledgers, our studies, our kitchens, and our nurseries-we write, ‘My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me.’ We may bring the greatest principles to bear upon the smallest duties.
What more do we learn from Christ’s toil? The possible harmony of communion and service. His labour did not break His fellowship with God. He was ever in the ‘secret place of the Most High,’ even while He was in the midst of crowds. He has taught us that it is possible to be in the ‘house of the Lord’ all the days of our lives, and by His ensample, as by His granted Spirit, encourages us to aim at so serving that we shall never cease to behold, and so beholding that we shall never cease to serve our Father. The life of contemplation and the life of practice, so hard to harmonise in our experience, perfectly meet in Christ.
What more do we learn from our Lord’s toils? The cheerful constant postponement of our own ease, wishes, or pleasure to the call of the Father’s voice, or to the echo of it in the sighing of such as be sorrowful. I have already referred to the instances of His putting aside His need for rest, and His desire for still fellowship with God, at the call of whoever needed Him. It was the same always. If a Nicodemus comes by night, if a despairing father forces his way into the house of feasting, if another suppliant finds Him in a house, where He would have remained hid, if they come running to Him in the way, or drop down their sick before Him through the very roof-it is all the same. He never thinks of Himself, but gladly addresses Himself to heal and bless. How such an example followed would change our lives and amaze and shake the world!-’I come, not to do Mine own will.’ ‘Even Christ pleased not Himself.’
But that toil is not only a pattern for our lives; it is an appeal to our grateful hearts. Surely a toiling Christ is as marvellous as a dying Christ. And the immensity and the purity and the depth of His love are shown no less by this, that He labours to accomplish it, than by this, that He dies to complete it. He will not give blessings which depend upon mere will, and can be bestowed as a king might fling a largess to a beggar without effort, and with scarce a thought, but blessings which He Himself has to agonise and to energise, and to lead a life of obedience, and to die a death of shame, in order to procure. ‘I will not offer burnt-offering to God of that which doth cost me nothing,’ says the grateful heart. But in so saying it is but following in the track of the loving Christ, who will not give unto man that which cost Him nothing, and who works, as well as dies, in order that we may be saved.
And, O brethren! think of the contrast between what Christ has done to save us, and what we do to secure and appropriate that salvation! He toiled all His days, buying our peace with His life, going down into the mine and bringing up the jewels at the cost of His own precious blood. And you and I stand with folded arms, too apathetic to take the rich treasures that are freely given to us of God! He has done everything, that we may have nothing to do, and we will not even put out our slack hands to clasp the grace purchased by His blood, and commended by His toil! ‘Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip.’
Alexander MacLaren, Expositions of Holy Scripture (1904–1910) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Paul E. Kretzmann 1924 · Public Domain On v38 The miracle:
The miracle:
v. 38. And He was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow. And they awake Him and say unto Him, Master, carest Thou not that we perish?
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v. 39. And He arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still! And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
v. 40. And He said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith?
v. 41. And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey Him?
In the midst of all this turmoil Jesus, true man as He was, tired out from the day’s hard work, was soundly asleep, lying in the stern of the boat, with His head on the low bench or railing known as the "pillow," used by the helmsman to rest on when the ship follows the helm without difficulty. But with His humanity thus visibly portrayed, there was combined the divinity of Him that rules all, in whose hand all the powers of nature are held securely: the storm did not bother Him in the least. But the disciples soon gave up what seemed to them an unequal struggle. They roused Him from His sleep and said to Him: Teacher, does it cause Thee no worry that we are being destroyed? They include Him in their prayer, but are chiefly concerned about their own welfare. Whether this was a cry of fear or an actual reproach, at any rate they showed little faith in crying thus. Jesus told them so even before He arose, Mat 18:26. But then He had compassion with their weakness. He suddenly got up, He rebuked the wind and said to the sea: Be quiet, hold your peace. And at His word the miracle was performed before their wondering eyes. The wind did not merely die down slowly, it ceased abruptly; and at once there was a great quietness, all the more noticeable after the rushing turmoil of a few minutes before. The boat was. now gently parting the mirror-like surface of the calm sea. But then the Lord took the opportunity of reproving His disciples very earnestly: How fearful are you in this manner! How is it that you have no faith? Their trust in the Lord, their confidence in His almighty power, was still very weak and uncertain. More than a dozen times Mark mentions this weakness. Undoubtedly the chagrin and deep humility of Peter caused him to dwell upon this point so often in his account of the days and the Gospel of Jesus. The impression of the miracle on the disciples was profound. They feared a great fear; they felt utterly insignificant in the presence of this man that had given them evidence of such superhuman power. They said one to another: Who, then, is this man that wind and sea yield obedience to Him? Each of the two was a wild, lawless element; and yet He controls them as easily as though such an experience were an every-day occurrence with Him! Note the pictorial vividness of Mark’s narrative: Evening, the sudden departure, the convoy of ships, the violence of the storm, the ship all but sinking, the image of Him that slept on the ship’s pillow, the reproach of the distressed men that Jesus cared not, the words of rebuke to the wind, the strong reproof of the disciples, their great fear, and its effect.
The evangelist here pictures Jesus, the Lord of the universe, who commands the sea, and it gives Him unquestioning obedience. The man Jesus is the almighty God. With His human voice He restored peace in the uproar of the elements. His human nature possesses also the divine glory and majesty! Jesus is an almighty man, was an almighty man even when He was here on earth in the midst of His humiliation. From that little nutshell of a boat, even while He was asleep, He governed heaven and earth, land and sea. Only His divine majesty was covered by the form of a servant. And as He did then, so He does now: He uses His divine power, His omnipotence, in the interest, in the service of men, especially of His disciples, of His believers. That is the comfort of this story.
Summary.Jesus tells the parable of the fourfold s
oil, expounding it to His disciples, also that of the seed that is cast into the ground, of the grain of mustard-seed, and others, and makes a journey across the sea, in the course of which He stills the tempest.
Paul E. Kretzmann, Popular Commentary of the Bible (1921–1924) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
unfoldingWord translationNotes 2017 · CC BY-SA 4.0 On vv38, 40 Jesus himself
Jesus himself
Here "himself" emphasizes that Jesus was alone in the stern. AT: "Jesus himself was alone" (See: Reflexive Pronouns)
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the stern
This is at the very back of the boat. "the stern of the boat"
They woke him up
The word "they" refers to the disciples. Compare a similar idea in the next verse, verse 39, "He got up." "He" refers to Jesus.
do you not care that we are about to die?
The disciples asked this question to convey their fear. This question can be written as a statement. AT: "you need to pay attention to what is happening; we are all about to die!" (See: Rhetorical Question)
we are about to die
The word "we" includes the disciples and Jesus. (See: Inclusive "We")
Peace! Be still!
These two phrases are similar and used to emphasize what Jesus wanted the wind and the sea to do. (See: Doublet)
a great calm
"a great stillness over the sea" or "a great calm over the sea"
translationWords
Jesus
rebuke
peace
unfoldingWord translationNotes — © Distant Shores Media and the Door43 World Missions Community, licensed CC BY-SA 4.0. Source: git.door43.org/Door43/en_tn.
Tyndale Open Study Notes 2022 · CC BY-SA 4.0 On vv38, 39, 41 4:38 Jesus was probably asleep under the stern, using…
4:38 Jesus was probably asleep under the stern, using a bag of ballast sand as a pillow. In 1986, a boat dating from Jesus’ time was discovered in the mud near the northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee. It is 26½ feet long, 7½ feet wide, and 4½ feet deep, with an elevated stern. It could hold up to fifteen people.
Tyndale Open Study Notes — © Tyndale Open Resources, licensed CC BY-SA 4.0. Text via the HelloAO Bible API.