Mark 4:39

“And the same day” ties the crossing to the day of teaching that fills Mark 4:1–34. Jesus has been speaking to the crowds from a boat, telling them of the sower who went out to sow (Mark 4:3), whose parable and its explanation run through Mark 4:1–20, of the lamp set on a candlestick (Mark 4:21), and of the mustard seed (Mark 4:30–32). The disciples have heard a great deal about the kingdom of God. Now, on the evening of the same day, they are about to see the King’s power at first hand, and Mark 4 moves from his teaching to his deeds.

“When the even was come” places the departure in the late afternoon or early evening. The verb behind “was come” is gínomai, to become or come about, and here it simply reports that evening had arrived. Setting out at that hour would have been cooler after a long day, and it took Jesus and the twelve away from the crowds.

The crossing is Jesus’ own decision. “He saith unto them” shows him leading, and his words, “Let us pass over,” include himself in the journey. The verb is diérchomai, to go through or cross over, and the destination is the far shore. So the storm that follows meets the disciples on a road he chose for them, and he is in the boat with them on it. God led Israel through the wilderness in the same way, “to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart” (Deuteronomy 8:2), and Jesus later thanked his disciples as those who “have continued with me in my temptations” (Luke 22:28). Another night crossing, when Jesus came to them walking on the sea (John 6:16–21), would teach them the same lesson again.

The Sea of Galilee is a freshwater lake about 13 miles long and 8 miles wide, lying in a deep basin some 700 feet below sea level with hills all around it. Cold air coming down from those hills, such as the Golan Heights, meets the warm, moist air over the water and can whip up a fierce squall with little warning. Travel by boat between the towns on its shores was common, and these storms were a well-known danger to fishermen and travellers alike.

“There arose a great storm of wind” uses gínomai again: a storm came to be. The word for storm is laîlaps, a whirlwind or violent squall, and Mark joins it to ánemos, the ordinary word for wind, so the Greek reads laîlaps megalē anemou, a great squall of wind. The waves (kymata) kept beating into the boat (epeballon eis), and it was “now full”. The verb is gemízō, to fill, and the boat was filling with water to the point of sinking. Matthew and Luke record the same danger (Matthew 8:24, Luke 8:23).

Several of the disciples were fishermen who knew this lake well. Their terror shows how severe this storm was, for their skill had met something it could not handle, and their small open boat was in real danger of going down. The storm also came while they were doing exactly what Jesus had told them to do. Following him led them into it. Trials can come on suddenly to those who follow Christ, and God holds even the wildest weather under his rule.

While the boat fills, Jesus is “in the hinder part of the ship”, the stern, where the helmsman usually sat. He is “asleep on a pillow”. The word for pillow, proskephálaion, means something for the head, a cushion, and in a boat it was likely the helmsman’s cushion or part of the boat’s ordinary gear. The verb for asleep, katheúdō, means to sleep or lie down to rest. The scene holds a sharp contrast. The experienced fishermen are frantic, and Jesus, the carpenter from Nazareth, sleeps soundly through the storm.

Jesus rises and rebukes the wind. The verb is epitimáō, to rebuke sharply or to command with a threat behind the command. Mark uses it when Jesus rebukes an unclean spirit (Mark 1:25), and Luke uses it when he rebukes the fever of Peter’s wife’s mother (Luke 4:39). Jesus addresses the wind and the sea as things that must answer to him. He gives orders directly, with no prayer for help, and the disorder of the world yields to him.

His words to the sea are two commands, Siōpa, pephimōso. The first is from siōpáō, to be silent or hushed, and figuratively to be calm like quiet water. The second is from phimóō, to muzzle, the way a dangerous animal is muzzled, and it stands in the perfect imperative, “be muzzled”. The KJV renders the pair “Peace, be still”.

The answer comes at once. “The wind ceased” uses kopázō, to grow tired or to relax, and the wind dropped as if worn out. “There was a great calm” uses galḗnē, the calm of still water. The verse has the same word “great” that described the storm: a great storm in verse 37, and now a great calm. Only a word from Jesus came between them.

Only after the sea is calm does Jesus turn to his disciples, and he asks two questions. “Why are ye so fearful?” uses hoútō, “so” or “in this way”, looking at the terror they had just shown, and deilós, fearful or cowardly. “How is it that ye have no faith?” joins ou, the plain Greek word of negation, to pístis, faith: being persuaded of something, trusting and relying on it. Their fear had shown where their trust lay. The Lord of creation was in the boat with them, and they had panicked as if they were alone. Matthew records the same rebuke (Matthew 8:26), and Scripture says plainly that “without faith it is impossible to please him” (Hebrews 11:6).

Now the disciples are more afraid than they were in the storm. “They feared exceedingly” is in Greek “they feared a great fear” (ephobēthēsan phobon megan). The verb phobéō means to be alarmed, and it also means to stand in awe of someone and revere him. Their fear has turned from the wind and the waves to Jesus himself. It is the fear of people who have seen God at work, like Israel at the Red Sea: “And Israel saw that great work which the LORD did upon the Egyptians: and the people feared the LORD, and believed the LORD, and his servant Moses” (Exodus 14:31). So the account closes with three great things: a great storm, a great calm, and a great fear of the one who calmed it.

They talk it over “one to another”, trying together to take in what they have seen. “What manner of man is this” renders a Greek question that reads “Who then is this?” The small word ára, “then”, draws a conclusion from what has just happened: after this, who can he be? Even the wind and the sea obey him. The verb is hypakoúō, literally to hear under, to listen as one under authority and do what is said. Wind and sea lie beyond any man’s control, and they do as Jesus tells them.

The disciples leave the question open for now. They have called him teacher, and they are beginning to see that he is far greater, though they cannot yet name him. Mark lets the question grow until Peter answers it, “Thou art the Christ” (Mark 8:29), “the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:13–16). The whole Bible gives the answer the Psalms already pointed to: the one whom the wind and the sea obey is the LORD, come among us as a man.

The power Jesus shows on the lake is the power of the Creator. “For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth” (Colossians 1:16), so the wind and the sea obey the one who made them. After his resurrection he told his disciples, “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth” (Matthew 28:18), and one day “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow” (Philippians 2:10).

His calming of this storm also points ahead to his victory over the greater storms of sin and death. At the cross he took on himself the wrath of God against sin, so that we could have peace with God: “the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). He is “the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), and he rose from the dead, so we can say, “O death, where is thy sting?” and give “thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:55–57). The deepest fear, of being cut off from God for ever, gives way in those who belong to him, for “ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father” (Romans 8:15).

The calm he spoke over the sea is a picture of the peace he gives his people. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27). That peace is reconciliation with God and “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). He is the good shepherd who “giveth his life for the sheep” (John 10:11), the one with whom his people can say, “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me” (Psalm 23:4).

The disciples met this storm on the way Jesus had chosen for them, with Jesus himself on board. Following him today can lead into hard places too, and he has promised, “lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world” (Matthew 28:20). When the waves are coming in and he looks to you as if he were asleep, he is still in the boat, and he still cares whether you perish.

So you can do what the disciples did right, and take your fear to him, even when it comes out as a raw question. You can also learn what they learned that night. The one you are speaking to is the Lord whom the wind and the sea obey, and one word from him is enough. A worried look at the waves can give way to the better fear of the disciples, the awe that comes from knowing who is with you.