The Lord of the Waves and the Lord of the Loaves Text: Mark 6:45-52
Introduction: The Grammar of Authority
We live in a world that is perpetually in a storm. The waves of cultural chaos, political insanity, and personal anxieties are constantly crashing against the hull. And in the middle of this tempest, modern man, like the disciples in our text, is straining at the oars, utterly convinced that his own effort is the only thing keeping the boat from being swamped. He is terrified, exhausted, and spiritually blind. He sees the wind and the waves, and they are all he sees.
But the central question of reality, the question upon which all other questions depend, is this: who is in charge here? Is the storm in charge? Is the boat in charge? Are the oarsmen in charge? Or is there another, higher authority? Our text this morning is not simply a record of an astonishing miracle. It is a direct and potent lesson in divine ontology. It is a revelation of who Jesus Christ actually is. The disciples had just seen Him create matter, feeding a multitude with a pittance. Now, they are about to see Him govern matter, commanding the very fabric of the cosmos.
These two miracles are bookends, and Mark tells us plainly that you cannot understand the second if you missed the point of the first. The failure to understand the loaves leads directly to terror on the waves. This is a spiritual law. If you do not understand that Jesus is the sovereign Creator, you will never trust Him as the sovereign Sustainer. If you don't see His authority in the calm, you will be terrified by the storm. This passage is designed to strip away our functional atheism and confront us with the raw, untamed, and glorious sovereignty of the Son of God.
Mark is showing us that the world is not a closed system of cause and effect, where God is a distant spectator. No, the world is His stage, and He walks right across the middle of it whenever He pleases. The laws of nature are not His master; they are His servants. And the point of this revelation is not to merely astound us, but to save us from our fear by confronting us with a greater, holier fear: the fear of the Lord who commands the storm.
The Text
And immediately Jesus made His disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side to Bethsaida, while He Himself was sending the crowd away. And after bidding them farewell, He left for the mountain to pray.
And when it was evening, the boat was in the middle of the sea, and He was alone on the land. And seeing them straining at the oars, for the wind was against them, at about the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea; and He was intending to pass by them. But when they saw Him walking on the sea, they thought that it was a ghost, and cried out; for they all saw Him and were terrified. But immediately He spoke with them and said to them, “Take courage; it is I, do not be afraid.” Then He got into the boat with them, and the wind stopped; and they were utterly amazed, for they had not gained any insight about the loaves, but their heart was hardened.
(Mark 6:45-52 LSB)
Sovereign Dismissal and Divine Communion (vv. 45-46)
The scene opens with an act of absolute authority.
"And immediately Jesus made His disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side to Bethsaida, while He Himself was sending the crowd away. And after bidding them farewell, He left for the mountain to pray." (Mark 6:45-46)
Notice the verb here. Jesus "made" His disciples get into the boat. The Greek word implies compulsion. There is no debate, no committee meeting. After the triumph of feeding the five thousand, the disciples, along with the crowd, were likely caught up in a messianic fervor. John's gospel tells us they wanted to take Him by force and make Him king (John 6:15). But Jesus will not be crowned on their terms. His kingdom is not built on populist enthusiasm fueled by free bread. So, He exerts His authority. He dismisses the crowd, and He commands His inner circle. He is the one in charge.
And where does this authority come from? The next verse tells us. He goes to the mountain to pray. Jesus, in His humanity, is in constant communion with the Father. This is the source of His power and the pattern for all true authority. Authority flows from submission to a higher authority. Jesus is not acting as a rogue agent; He is the obedient Son, whose will is perfectly aligned with the Father's. He has just demonstrated His authority over the created order by multiplying bread, and now He returns to the source of that authority in prayer. This is the rhythm of the God-man: divine power exercised on earth, fueled by communion with heaven.
The Storm and the Theophany (vv. 47-48)
While Jesus is in communion with the Father, the disciples are in a battle with the creation.
"And when it was evening, the boat was in the middle of the sea, and He was alone on the land. And seeing them straining at the oars, for the wind was against them, at about the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea; and He was intending to pass by them." (Mark 6:47-48)
The scene is set with a stark contrast: Jesus is alone on the land, and the disciples are alone in the middle of the sea, in the dark, in a storm. They are "straining at the oars," a picture of futile, exhausting human effort against the elements. But they are not unobserved. From the mountain, Jesus sees them. This is not the observation of a helpless friend. This is the omniscient gaze of the sovereign Lord. The storm is not a surprise to Him; the wind is not a rogue element. All of it is within His purview and under His control.
Then comes the divine intrusion. He comes to them "walking on the sea." Let us be very clear. This is not a clever trick. This is a claim to deity. The Old Testament is unambiguous about who controls the sea. It is God, and God alone. "You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them" (Psalm 89:9). In Job, God is the one "who alone stretched out the heavens and trampled the waves of the sea" (Job 9:8). For a first-century Jew, seeing a man walking on the water during a storm was not just a miracle; it was a theophany. It was God revealing Himself.
And notice the curious phrase: "and He was intending to pass by them." This is not indifference. This is the very manner in which God revealed His glory to Moses. God told Moses, "I will make all my goodness pass before you" (Exodus 33:19). When God revealed Himself to Elijah, He "passed by" (1 Kings 19:11). Jesus is not just coming to rescue them; He is coming to reveal Himself to them in His divine glory. He is putting His deity on full display.
The Cry of Fear and the Voice of God (vv. 49-50)
The disciples' reaction to this divine revelation is not worship, but terror.
"But when they saw Him walking on the sea, they thought that it was a ghost, and cried out; for they all saw Him and were terrified. But immediately He spoke with them and said to them, 'Take courage; it is I, do not be afraid.'" (Mark 6:49-50)
They see the supernatural, but they interpret it through the grid of pagan superstition. A ghost. Their fear is a product of their bad theology. They are confronted with the living God, and they mistake Him for a phantom. This is what happens when your worldview is shaped by the world instead of the Word. You misinterpret reality. You see a Savior and call him a spook.
But in the midst of their terror, Jesus speaks. And what He says is the theological center of the entire passage. "Take courage; it is I, do not be afraid." The phrase "it is I" is the Greek ego eimi. This is not just "Hey guys, it's me." This is the name of God. This is what God said to Moses from the burning bush in the Greek Septuagint: Ego eimi. I AM. Jesus is not simply identifying Himself as their friend from Nazareth. He is identifying Himself as the self-existent, eternal God of Israel, the Creator of the wind and the waves that they fear. Their fear of the storm is about to be swallowed up by a greater, truer fear. The only antidote to the fear of circumstances is the fear of God. He says, "Do not be afraid," because the great I AM is present.
Amazement, Stupidity, and a Hardened Heart (vv. 51-52)
The resolution of the event and Mark's inspired commentary follow swiftly.
"Then He got into the boat with them, and the wind stopped; and they were utterly amazed, for they had not gained any insight about the loaves, but their heart was hardened." (Mark 6:51-52)
The moment the Creator gets into the boat, the creation obeys. The wind stopped. Not gradually, but immediately. The authority of the one who spoke the world into existence is present, and the storm cannot but obey. The disciples' reaction is utter amazement. But Mark does not let us mistake this amazement for true faith. He immediately gives us the diagnosis.
Why were they so amazed? "For they had not gained any insight about the loaves." They had failed to do the most basic theological arithmetic. They saw Jesus create food for thousands out of nothing just a few hours earlier, but the lesson did not sink in. They saw the miracle, but they did not understand the Man. They saw the what, but missed the Who. If they had truly understood that the man who broke the bread was the Creator God, they would not have been the least bit surprised that He could also walk on water and silence a storm. It would have been entirely in character.
Their heart was hardened. This is not the hardness of defiant rebellion, like Pharaoh. This is the hardness of spiritual density, of culpable stupidity. It is a callousness that comes from seeing God's glory but failing to connect the dots. It is the spiritual equivalent of watching a man lift a car over his head, and then being utterly shocked when he is able to open a stubborn pickle jar. Their failure to think, to reason from one miracle to the next, left them vulnerable to fear and prone to a shallow, reactive amazement instead of deep, settled worship.
Conclusion: From Hard Hearts to True Courage
This passage is a profound mercy to us, because we are the disciples in the boat. How many times has God provided for us, answered our prayers, shown us His power in the "miracle of the loaves" in our own lives, only for us to find ourselves a few hours later, in the middle of a storm, straining at the oars in a panic?
We forget what He did yesterday, and so we are terrified of what might happen today. Our hearts become hardened, not through rebellion, but through simple forgetfulness and a failure to think covenantally. We compartmentalize God's power. We believe He can save our souls for eternity, but we doubt He can manage our finances for next week. We believe He fed the five thousand, but we are terrified by the wind and the waves.
The cure for our hardened hearts and our craven fears is the same today as it was for the disciples. We must hear the voice of Jesus cutting through the storm. We must hear His divine self-disclosure: Ego eimi. I AM. The sovereign Lord of the universe, the one who tramples the waves of the sea, is the one who has gotten into the boat with us through His Spirit. He is not a ghost. He is not a distant deity. He is the great I AM, and He is with us.
True courage is not the absence of a storm. True courage is the presence of Christ in the storm, and the recognition of who He is. When we understand the Lord of the loaves, we will not be undone by the Lord of the waves. For they are one and the same: Jesus Christ, the sovereign King, to whom all authority in heaven and on earth has been given. Therefore, take courage. It is He. Do not be afraid.