The disciples went and woke him, saying, 'Master, master, we're going to drown!'
Sometimes it was awful following Jesus. He lay there in the bottom of the boat and when we shook him, I just knew he was going to open his eyes and say something patronising, like, relax, don't worry, I am the king of the universe. And don't get me wrong, I knew he was the Son of God and all, Messiah dah-dee-dah-dee-dah, I'd left my family and my work and my friends to follow him, but there was just something about the way you knew he was there, he was probably going to have a solution, he'd just fallen asleep to test our courage or something, everything was in God's hands and we were all right, but there's something about watching the waves whip up into a whirlpool and send your boat spinning in circles, half full of water, that makes your legs shake and your teeth chatter, so that you cry out for your mamma in fear, and wait for death to arrive. Even if you don't want to. Even if you believe He's the Son of God.
1 comment:
This story resonates at two levels today: the one for me, seeing the Bishop and feeling hacked off and scared, my lip literally trembled whilst I was waiting in the room for him, even though I didn't want to give a damn, and then also it makes me think of R, who went and had a filling done today, despite being scared shitless of dentists.
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