Carest Thou Not That We Perish

The Storm

The disciples’ actual question here is worth sitting with directly, carest thou not that we perish, genuine fear given genuine voice, not polite or measured, but raw and honest, spoken to Jesus himself, worth holding as permission for your own honest cry, however raw, however unpolished, in your own genuine storm.

Notice he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep, Jesus’s own presence in this exact storm, not absent from it, and yet, from the disciples’ own vantage point, genuinely uninvolved, asleep, while the storm continued raging, worth holding as honest acknowledgment that his presence does not always feel immediately, obviously active.

This is worth examining against however much you have hesitated to bring this same raw, unpolished question to God, carest thou not, worried this honesty might seem faithless, rather than trusting, as this passage shows, that Jesus received this exact question without rebuking its raw, genuine honesty.

Whatever storm currently makes you feel like you are perishing, bring your own version of this question to God today, honestly, without polishing it first. Carest thou not that we perish. This whole book’s next movements will explore what actually follows this honest cry, but today, simply, honestly, ask it.