Peace! Be still.

Peace, be still.
I read Jesus' words in Mark 4 and linger there, mulling over how to receive them. I read the story again.
Jesus had been with the crowds. Teaching. Healing. Giving of himself. When evening came, he walked away. Probably there were still unmet needs amongst the crowd, but Jesus got in the boat and headed off.
Human instinct is to finish a task. I want to leave the situation here confident that I have tied up all loose ends. That is not the case. As evening of my visit comes, there remain loose ends which disrupt my peace.
But Jesus walked away and got into the boat and slept, trusting his Father to continue to work amongst the crowd.
A furious squall broke out on the Sea of Galilee. Interesting word. Furious. It sounds as if the peace Jesus carried, a peace which passes understanding, really infuriated his supernatural enemies. They attacked. Stirring up the wind and waves and causing fear to rise in the disciples, a fear which swamped faith. The waves threatened to swamp the boat. Fear threatened to swamp faith.
Oh, boy, that sounds familiar. Despite my best efforts, I am still more like the disciples than I am like Jesus.
Jesus, awakened, spoke a powerful word of peace into the elements and they had to obey. Calm ensued. But within the disciples consternation remained. They were with Jesus, in the boat, experiencing his miracles daily, yet still confused, wondering, fearful.
What does it take for the reality of God's love to sink in?
The cross.
Pentecost. The in filling of the disciples by the Holy Spirit.
Peace, the risen Lord told his friends and followers. Receive my Spirit. And he breathed on them, changing them forever.
Breathe on me again, lord Jesus Christ. Fill me again.