Sleeping in a rolling boat.

So 9:30pm finds me lying on my narrow top bunk in the bowels of this mechanical leviathan, surging more or less northwest through metre-and-a-half swells.

Several sounds have been fairly consistent for a time. The first is the rhythmic shaking of our craft and is more a feeling than a sound; it seems to emanate from all sides of the small cabin at once, inviting one's whole body to be involved. Yet from the coerciveness of the sensation it quickly becomes apparent that the "invitation" concept is a somewhat thin veil: this shaking is going to include me regardless of my degree of consent. My second noise consists of doors and fixtures rattling with the aforementioned hum; the last is my wife sprawled across the two bottom bunks telling our kids about once each minute to lie down and go to sleep.

I can't help the feeling that I'm going to roll out of bed and come thumping down onto the floor, defeating the purpose of any and all sleep encouragements aimed at my kids. I wonder how Jesus managed to sleep in the boat as it was tossed by the wind and waves while hid disciples panicked.

I reckon that sometimes I dumb down that story in my head. Surely it'd be impossible for someone to sleep during a storm in a small boat? Yeah, that's it. He was sleeping because the storm can't have been that ferocious...but hang on. The Bible says the disciples thought they were going to drown. At least three of them were seasoned fishermen. They'd know a storm when they went through one. So Jesus really was asleep in a real storm.

I note that the breathing below me has changed. Deep, slow breaths are audible in place of the determined, imposed silence and reminders to surrender to slumber.

So how could Jesus have been so peaceful? I'm sure he understood that there was a greater purpose to his calling than being drowned on a lake, so perhaps that helped him know that things were in hand. Is that what causes us to question where to from here? or how do I get out of here? or even contemplating deserting our faith? Is it a lack of understanding that our calling does not stop here which makes us panic at the now?

If we understood that whatever storm we're in, we're not destined to end in it, would that give us a greater sense of peace in the now?