The Bag
Away despair! my gracious Lord doth hear.
Though winds and waves assault my keel,
He doth preserve it: he doth steer,
Ev'n when the boat seems most to reel.
Storms are the triumphs of his art:
Well may he close his eyes, but not his heart.
This is only the first verse of the poem. But it's worth a closer look, and could stand alone as one of Herbert's miniature paintings of a Bible story. Of course, a verse out of context might end up being a pretext. But what makes this verse worth our time in its own right is the light it throws on Herbert's approach to Scripture.
Matthew 8.23-27 tells of Jesus bringing calm to a tempestuous sea. Matthew relates the story with narrative power and an effective economy of words. The storm comes without warning, and it's a furious storm; the waves were higher than the boat. So, imminent unexpected danger, "But Jesus was sleeping." Let that sink in. How could he not be soaked, but he's asleep. The disciples grab and pull and shout and waken Jesus, pleading with him to save them.
In Mark's account, the disciples are nothing like as polite, "Master do you not care that we're all going to die?" The last line of Herbert's verse answer that question, with almost casual certainty.
Well may he close his eyes, but not his heart.
My guess is that Herbert has both Matthew's and Mark's versions in mind as he describes the way unexpected storms break on human life. And when they are furious, dangerous, overwhelming in force and beyond our power to tame, fear quickly hardens into despair, and the rapid shrinking of hope.
"Away despair!", shouts Herbert above the noise of the storm. This is prayer addressed to Christ while shouting at despair. There's no serenity, none of that T shirt nonsense, 'Keep Calm and Admire the Waves'. The Gospels contrast the terror of the disciples and the relaxed somnolence of Jesus. It's out of the depths of fear and despair of life that they shout their complaint in Jesus ear.
Of course we know how the story ends; "Where is your faith", Jesus asks. He rebuked the wind and waves, told them to settle down, and they did. Just like that. "And it was completely calm." Please note all the meme makers, Jesus didn't ever say, "Keep Calm, and Love the Waves".
Looking more closely at Herbert's take on the story, he describes (i) the unseen and unknown power of the sleeping Christ to preserve the keel, which is the stabilising part of the boat, and (ii) that same alert competence to steer it safely through even the most tumultuous waves in the face of the strongest gales. This what the disciples were too scared to even think about. Trust is impossible for the mind in panic. It's too busy finding and shouting the word "Help!"
"Storms are the triumphs of his art". Now that one I might just get printed on a T shirt. Faith is seldom challenged on calm seas with blue skies. The real test and triumph of faith, and of the power of Christ to keep us safe, is the storm that comes without warning and turns our lives into a tumult. Even when the eyes of Christ seem closed in the relaxed absence that is sleep, his heart never sleeps.
I find the story of the calming of the storm a helpful framework for the way life is just now. Without warning we are in lock-down. Who would have thought at Christmas we would be engulfed in a pandemic by Easter? But even when we are destabilised, the keel is threatened, "he doth preserve it".; and even when we seem most to reel and risk capsizing, "he doth steer".
How do we navigate through the storm that is engulfing us, personally, in our neighbourhoods, with those who are our community of faith, as part of a world in crisis? Perhaps by shouting the first two words, as Herbert does, "Away despair". And then by taking to heart the rest of that first line, "My gracious Lord doth hear... and doth preserve the keel....and he doth steer", and because "Storms are the triumphs of his art," which is redeeming love.
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