Scripture: Mark 6:45-52
Immediately he made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After saying farewell to them, he went up on the mountain to pray. When evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and he was alone on the land. When he saw that they were straining at the oars against an adverse wind, he came towards them early in the morning, walking on the sea. He intended to pass them by. But when they saw him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw him and were terrified. But immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid." Then he got into the boat with them and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.
Reflection Questions:
How does the image of ‘straining at the oars against an adverse wind’ sit with you? When was the last time that you strained against something? In that struggle did you sense God’s presence or absence? How did that feel for you? What did you learn?
Five-minute Story:
It was a week after our soon-to-be firstborn’s due date. We were told by more than one unofficial ‘expert’ that it is not uncommon for that initial child to be late. Already, I was finding that there was so much wisdom to absorb, weigh, and remember. Katie and I took the birth classes, we read the books, and as a young couple at a church, we were the frequent recipients of unsolicited advice. We tried to take it all in, which was confusing given the inevitable contradictions.
At our scheduled appointment, our doctor gave us unexpected news. Our past-due baby had flipped in position! He told us that the time had arrived for our baby’s birth and scheduled immediate c-section surgery. A mixture of excitement, worry, and general confusion enfolded us. We never considered emergency surgery in all of our planned birth scenarios.
Even though I was only a second-year pastor, I had been in my share of hospital settings. As the nurses were prepping Katie for surgery, I pulled on my paper gown and shower cap. When I entered the operating room, Katie was lying down and covered with blue blankets. A nurse directed me to stand by my wife and hold her hand. I could do that. A large draped cloth shielded our eyes from the site of the incision. Within minutes the room filled with masked men and women and the operation began.
My training kicked into gear, which allowed me to be present. Still, this was unlike any previous experience. Time slowed down. Every sound was both heard and muddled. Finally, after what seemed like a long time, a baby was lifted up. Above the drape, I could see our baby! It was a miracle.
The surgeon quickly handed the baby to a waiting nurse. It was at this point that I noticed something terrifying. Our baby was purple. In an instant, it was as though a wave of fear, uncertainty, and absolute dread had crashed upon me. Purple wasn’t a right color. What was happening? I needed to be strong in those seconds that each lasted an hour. Things were spinning out of control.
No one said anything as a nurse passed the purple baby to a waiting table in the corner. It looked like a miniature version of the table on which Katie was lying. More lights, machines, and tubes lying in wait. A huddle quickly formed around our baby as well-trained hands went into action. I remained silent and scared.
The one piece of knowledge that our prenatal education did not cover was emergency cesarean birth. I found out later that after the surgeon suddenly takes the baby from the womb, it takes a bit before the newborn’s body circulates oxygen. Until it does, a blue-ish, purple color prevails. This happens rather quickly unless of course you are caught in a first-time parent time warp. It is a wonder that I didn’t need a burst of oxygen at that point!
Within a few minutes, when I heard my son’s cry, I was brought back to the joy of the present. A pink-hued baby boy was presented to his radiant mother. Indescribable delight pushed away from the terror of just a moment before. It was a sacred moment that still brings tears to my eyes.