We’re familiar with the story of Jesus calming the storm. But we might not realize how intentional a pairing it is with the story that immediately follows it. In Matthew 8, after the storm and reaching shore, two demon-possessed men confront Jesus on the beach, shouting at him. These two stories pair together well in a couple of ways. First, Jesus displays his authority over creation and over the demonic. “Why are you afraid, you of little faith?” Jesus asks his panicking disciples. Jesus was never in trouble. Whatever wants to bump up against Jesus will not win. Period.
Second, they are both loud stories. A fearsome storm, and then some screaming demons. But in the storm, Jesus is first asleep and then can dispatch the storm simply by speaking to it. Then, Jesus only has to say one word for the boisterous demons, one syllable in fact – “Go.” He does not preach. He does not match their volume or their intensity. He speaks one calm word, and that is all that’s needed. One word from a well-rested and peaceful Jesus is all it takes for chaos to tuck its tail and run. The noise, the volume, the commotion never infects Jesus. Instead, his calm and his rest infect the noise until it is quickly gone.
Perhaps you’ve heard the saying – “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room by himself.” That seems true enough on any given day, but look in Matthew 8 at what Jesus is able to accomplish, how much chaos is subdued, when he speaks from a place of rest and calm. A storm is quieted, and two demon-possessed men are freed.
This is what Jesus offers, and this is what Jesus is doing to our world: being our peace in the middle of our chaos. His rest and his calm are an infection for all the noise and worry and disorder of our world. Jesus can tell us not to worry (Mt 6:25) because that’s precisely what he’s not doing. He is already walking the walk, having gone ahead of us to the place of no worry. No amount of noise and chaos can rattle him. He cannot be convinced that he’s not okay, that he is anything but safe in the Father’s presence. He tells us not to worry because he is the living proof that it’s possible.
There’s a problem, though. When the villagers come to witness that Jesus has indeed liberated their town from the demonic threat, they do not celebrate him or even thank him. They tell him to leave. At first glance, this makes no sense. Why would they respond to their rescuer with such a lack of hospitality? The Gospels are full of stories of people who are healed or rescued by Jesus and then respond with an appropriate gratitude. Why are these villagers different?
But why should it make sense? Why should we be surprised that someone would respond to a newfound quiet and safety in a thankful way? See, we’re not just plagued by noisy conflict – we’re addicted to it. We think we want Jesus’ help with the conflict and turmoil in our lives, but do we? Do we really want the rest that he offers? Or do we want the news and social media to daily show us what we should be upset about, scared of, and distracted by?
No thank you, Jesus. As backwards as we know it is, we’re addicted to whatever conflict, noise, and to-do list will allow us to avoid being stuck with God and with ourselves in the quiet. When the villagers tell him to leave, he obliges them. And if we wish to push Jesus away with a flood of noise and fear, he will oblige us too. He will not force his rest upon us if we do not want it.
Jesus’ question is a good one: Why? Why are you afraid, you of little faith?