Storms and Calms | Sunday, February 8, 2026

Now it happened on a certain day that He got into a boat with His disciples. And He said to them, "Let us cross over to the other side of the lake." And they launched out. But as they sailed He fell asleep. And a windstorm came down on the lake, and they were filling with water, and were in jeopardy. And they came to Him and awoke Him, saying, "Master, Master, we are perishing!" Then He arose and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water. And they ceased, and there was a calm. But He said to them, "Where is your faith?" And they were afraid, and marveled, saying to one another, "Who can this be? For He commands even the winds and water, and they obey Him!" (Luke 8:22–25)

Jesus is Lord over both the storm on the sea and the darkness behind it—so the real question is never how big your storm is, but where your faith is.

Nobody Lives a Storm-Free Life

Have you ever gone through a storm? Most people have. Some people love storms—think of those storm chasers who pursue a tornado like a hunter pursuing an elk, wanting to get as close to the chaos as possible. Others dread storms and would do anything to avoid them. But like it or not, nobody lives a storm-free life. I'm not just talking about physical storms, but the great challenges and difficulties every person faces—the things we find ourselves in the midst of and pray to get out of as fast as possible.

One of the most challenging realities you discover as you walk with Christ is that sometimes God leads us right into the middle of a storm. In the midst of it you wonder, why would you do this? It can feel like he does it on purpose—not because he likes storms or likes to see us uncomfortable, but because sometimes the storm is unavoidable in the process of fulfilling his purpose.

Another challenging part is that some lessons are only learned in a storm. You don't realize it until you've gone through it. I've seen this many times with people walking through a diagnosis or a deep loss, who learned things about Christ or themselves they would never have known otherwise. As bad as the storm was, they look back on it with a certain admiration for what God did in the midst of it—something hard to comprehend for those who haven't gone through the same storm.

No Ordinary Storm

In Luke 8, Jesus and his disciples are about to face a storm—and it's no ordinary one. Matthew, who was likely there in the boat, uses a very interesting Greek word, seismos. In one sense he's calling it an earthquake on the sea. Mark and Luke, who were not there, use a word that could be translated whirlwind or hurricane. Because of where this took place on the Sea of Galilee, such windstorms were not abnormal—but there was something behind this one that was more than wind.

It's not a stretch, and not just pastoral hyperbole, to say there was something spiritual behind this. Jesus deals with this storm by rebuking the wind and the waves in the same way he would rebuke an evil spirit coming out of a demon-possessed individual. And as you situate the story in Luke's Gospel, the larger context reveals that the physical storm wasn't the real or even the biggest storm in the story.

Six Things This Story Reveals

As I read through this week, six things stood out. First, Jesus says, "Let us cross over to the other side of the lake." They were in or around Capernaum, in the northwest corner of the Sea of Galilee, where most of Jesus's ministry took place. His request reveals that he has a purpose on the other side. But it's also a promise. He didn't say, "Let us attempt to cross over," or "Let us see if we make it." He said, "Let us cross over." If Jesus intends to cross, he's going to cross.

Second, this story reveals Christ's divine power. They are in the midst of this great storm, and Jesus is awakened and rebukes the wind and the raging sea, and everything stops. His disciples are frightened by his power, maybe more than by the storm. But we also see his humanity—because when he got into the boat, he immediately slept. This story reveals something about Christ's character, the very thing the church spent the first four centuries thinking through. In the Gospels he speaks to the wind and the waves and they cease; the Jewish people understood from the Old Testament that only God has that power. So his deity is on display, but also his humanity. The conclusion of the church is that Jesus is fully God and fully man—what theologians call the hypostatic union, one hundred percent God and one hundred percent man.

The Geography of Fear

Third, this was a very bad storm. To be in a storm on the sea has a certain kind of fear, doesn't it? The geography of the Sea of Galilee is striking. It sits 700 feet below sea level. To the east are the great deserts toward Arabia; to the west, not far, is the Mediterranean Sea. It's much like San Diego County, where deserts lie to the east and ocean to the west, and the cool coastal air clashes with the dry, hot weather.

We experience this several times a year with winds out of the east—we even named them, the Santa Anas. Anytime you've named a weather pattern, it's bad. Now imagine, between the arid desert and the cool Mediterranean, a depression 700 feet below sea level with all kinds of channels and ravines funneling wind into swirling chaos on the lake. Luke calls it a lake because it doesn't even fit the criteria of a sea.

Here's what's significant: four of Jesus's inner circle—Peter, Andrew, James, and John—grew up as fishermen on this lake. If anyone knew the windstorms of the Sea of Galilee, it was them. And these seasoned sailors became fearful to the point that they came to Jesus and said, "We are perishing." If they are saying that, you know it must be bad. This was no ordinary storm.

Where Is Your Faith?

Fourth, Jesus slept during the storm. And apparently the disciples didn't stir him until they were at the point of total panic. The text says they were filling with water and in jeopardy—and this is no Alex Trebek jeopardy; they're going to die. I may be reading into it, but I don't think I am, because I know myself. I tend not to ask for help until I absolutely need it. And as a pastor, I'll confess it: far too frequently I am very late to pray. Someone will remind me, "We should probably pray," and I think, "We should have done that days ago." These seasoned sailors probably said, "No, no, we've got this. Don't wake him"—until they needed him.

Fifth, Jesus rebuked the wind and the raging water. He spoke to natural elements as if they were entities. I don't think he was talking to the wind and the waves; I think he was talking to whatever was behind them, rebuking it just as he would rebuke an evil spirit. But it's not the only rebuke—Jesus also mildly rebuked his disciples. He doesn't ask, "Where's your courage?" or "Where's your seamanship?" He asks, "Where is your faith?" That's a striking, introspective question. What am I trusting in? Myself? My abilities? Christ? Is he trustworthy?

Sixth, his disciples were afraid and marveled, saying, "Who can this be?" Is it wrong to suggest that when Jesus displayed his power over the storm, his followers were more afraid of him than of the storm? I don't think so.

Sometimes God Brings the Storm

As you study the whole of Scripture, you discover that sometimes it is God who brings storms into our lives. Sometimes for discipline—Jonah comes to mind, sleeping in a storm because he was disobeying God. Sometimes for development, or to put something of his nature on display. I think of Job, who said, "That which I feared the worst has come upon me." Some of you have been in that storm—the very thing you dreaded, and there you are in it. And there in the storm, God reveals himself, or reveals something to you that you would not have seen otherwise.

But this text makes clear that there are other times when the storm is straight from the devil. Whatever the means or reason, we need to recognize this. Point one: the storms that terrify us are subject to Christ, who promised to see us through. You sometimes don't learn this until you're in a storm or have come through one. You can hear it from someone else, read it in the Bible, observe it—but you don't actually know it until you've gone through it.

The challenging part is that he could keep us from trouble. If he can calm the storm, couldn't he keep me from it? And yet sometimes he doesn't, on purpose. To be honest, that makes us upset. But this reminded me of Psalm 107.

"He Commands and Raises the Stormy Wind"

Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on great waters, they see the works of the LORD, and His wonders in the deep. For He commands and raises the stormy wind, which lifts up the waves of the sea... their soul melts because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man... Then they cry out to the LORD in their trouble, and He brings them out of their distresses. He calms the storm, so that its waves are still... Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men! (Psalm 107:23–31)

Do you see the connection? It's almost as if those words, written a thousand years before this story, were written specifically for it. But it bothers me. He commanded and raised the stormy wind—why, if he will later calm it? The only answer seems to be that he has a purpose in the storm. And one of his purposes is to reveal that the storms that terrify us are subject to Christ.

Remember the first line: "Let us cross over to the other side of the lake." If his plan was to cross the lake, his promise was that they would cross it. As you look at the chaos of this broken world, people can be gripped by fear of all the what-ifs—the economy, war, pestilence, AI. I've been getting that one lately because of my work. But because I have a hope in Christ—an eschatological end where Christ will rule and reign forever and I will be in his presence, where there is fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore—I'm not gripped by that fear.

When I find someone totally gripped by fear over what's happening in Washington or Moscow or wherever, I know I've found someone lacking hope in Christ. This isn't a political statement, but every person I knew who was up in terror over COVID did not have hope in Christ. When I meet someone in turmoil over the things of this world, I have an opportunity to share the hope I know in Jesus. Jesus told his disciples, "We're going to cross over." That's why he asked, "Where is your faith? I told you we'd reach the other side. I didn't tell you it would be easy."

The Bigger Storm Across the Lake

The storm on the sea was not the only storm—it was the pregame show. I think it was meant to keep Jesus from confronting the much bigger storm.

Then they sailed to the country of the Gadarenes... And when He stepped out on the land, there met Him a certain man from the city who had demons for a long time. And he wore no clothes, nor did he live in a house but in the tombs... "What have I to do with You, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg You, do not torment me!"... Jesus asked him, saying, "What is your name?" And he said, "Legion," because many demons had entered him... And the demons went out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd ran violently down the steep place into the lake and drowned. (Luke 8:26–33)

Point two: sometimes the storms we face are meant to produce panic and hinder God's purpose. Not every storm falls into this category. Not every hard thing is demonic. But we live in a highly naturalistic Western culture that has seduced us into thinking nothing is spiritual—and so we miss that some things are. Sometimes storms are just the result of a broken, fallen world with cancer and car accidents. Sometimes they're corrective, like Jonah. Sometimes they're for development, like Job. But sometimes they are resistance meant to intimidate God's people and keep them from obedience.

The storm on the sea was the enemy's opposition, meant to keep Jesus from coming to the soul who needed deliverance—a man in a far bigger storm than the disciples endured. He was in bondage under a legion of demons. If ever a man needed deliverance, it was this unnamed soul. The Sea of Galilee is seven miles across at its widest; he was just seven miles from the man who was delivering multitudes. On a clear day he could see Capernaum, but he was so removed he had no hope of reaching Jesus—unless Jesus came to him.

He Crosses Over for Those Who Cannot Come

That's your story too. That's the gospel. We had no hope, without God in this world, and he came to us no matter the opposition. Point three: Jesus crosses over and confronts darkness to come for those who could never come to him. This is the central theme of Luke's Gospel: "The Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost" (Luke 19:10).

But the sad fact is that not everyone can accept that.

Then they went out to see what had happened, and came to Jesus, and found the man from whom the demons had departed, sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid... Then the whole multitude of the surrounding region of the Gadarenes asked Him to depart from them, for they were seized with great fear. And He got into the boat and returned. (Luke 8:35–37)

It's the exact same word for fear used of the disciples on the sea. The same power that calmed the storm is now displayed in delivering this demoniac—and it causes great fear. Their response is, "We don't want you here. You need to go." Two movies on one screen: they see the same thing and interpret it entirely differently.

Reverence or Rejection

Point four: the fear of Christ can lead to reverence or to rejection. Jesus's disciples worshiped him; the people of Gadara declared him unwelcome. They had lived in fear of the demoniac—they'd tried to bind him with chains, and he'd broken free. Now they see him delivered, sitting clothed and in his right mind. That's some of your testimonies, isn't it? People are a little afraid because they don't recognize you anymore. "Whatever happened, I don't know—but that's this guy right here."

And their response is great fear of the one who delivered him, so they ask Jesus to leave. I read in one place that they held a prayer meeting against their own salvation. But notice:

Now the man from whom the demons had departed begged Him that he might be with Him. But Jesus sent him away, saying, "Return to your own house, and tell what great things God has done for you." And he went his way and proclaimed throughout the whole city what great things Jesus had done for him. (Luke 8:38–39)

Why send him away? So that he would go proclaim. And when Jesus returned, the multitudes welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him.

Where Is Your Faith?

Sometimes a storm is just a storm. You live in a broken world; you'll skin your knee, get rear-ended, lose a job. God's not doing this to you—you're just living in a broken world. Sometimes storms are discipline; you did to yourself what my dad would call "you did it to yourself." Sometimes they're for development, the only way God can shape you more into the image of Christ. And sometimes they are true resistance from the enemy, meant to produce panic and keep you from obedience.

Either way, the main question is not "How big is your storm?" We love to compare storms—"Mine is so much worse than yours." No, it's just a storm. The question is, "Where is your faith?" Jesus isn't only Lord over wind and water; he is Lord over the darkness, over what is behind the madness. And he crosses over on purpose, with a plan, to seek and save the lost.

When Jesus steps into your life, he doesn't just calm external storms—he starts confronting internal bondage. He wants to bring freedom, but he also calls us to change and follow him in new ways. So we stand at a fork in the road: will we welcome him in the challenges he brings, or will we say, "No, we don't want this here"?

Pray, Trust, Obey

So what's the application? If you're in a storm right now, don't panic. Three things—keep them in mind as PTO: Pray. Trust. Obey. If you know there's darkness, bondage, sin, fear, or shame, don't hide it. Don't negotiate with it. Bring it to Christ in prayer, trusting him and obeying what he tells you to do.

Don't be like the people of Gadara, who said, "We don't want that power here," because it might challenge them to do something differently. Be like the delivered man, to whom Jesus said, "Return to your own house and tell what great things God has done for you." That's what it is to be exemplary—to proclaim the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

Closing Prayer

Father God, thank you for this story, for what it teaches and for what it challenges us to confront. Thank you for the reality that in the storm—whether it's just the result of living in a broken world, or a storm you brought to discipline or develop us, or a storm from the devil—whatever the case, you are there with us, present to help us trust in you and to transform us into your likeness. Help us to learn those lessons, and help us to have compassion on those going through the storm, willing to sit with them and weep with those who weep, knowing we too will someday be in a storm. Thank you for your word. Help us to learn to pray, trust, and obey. We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.