Rain on the Windscreen
Updated: Sep 2
“He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’
Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.” Mark 4:39
The rain begins without warning. First a few small drops, then heavier ones. You watch them hit the windscreen and slide sideways, pulled by the movement of the car.
The wipers move in their steady arc. Back and forth. They clear a space just wide enough to see the road ahead.
There are days when everything outside feels blurred in the same way. Plans that were clear in the morning become uncertain. Conversations stay unfinished. The next step is visible only for a moment, and then the rain covers it again.
The Gospel tells us that Jesus slept in the boat while the storm rose. The disciples were afraid of the water. He was not. When they woke him, he did not first explain the weather. He spoke to the wind and the waves, as if the storm itself needed to be addressed. Then there was calm.
Most of our storms are quieter than that. They do not look as if they will sink the boat. They only make it hard to see. You can still move. You simply cannot see far.
The life of faith is often like driving in rain. You cannot stop the weather. You can only keep the small clear space in front of you and go forward at the speed that is possible. Prayer does that. A quiet Mass does that. One honest duty done well does that. None of these remove the rain. They keep a space open so that you are not driving blind.
You do not need to see the whole journey. You only need to see the next stretch of road.
Christ is not only the one who slept through the storm. He is also the one who is awake in it now. In the liturgy he still says, “Peace.” He still gives himself under a form small enough to receive when the rest of the day is unclear. The Church has long seen herself as a boat. The Mass is not an escape from the rain. It is the place where the same Christ sits with us while the weather continues outside, and then sends us back to the road with enough light for the next few yards.
When the rain eases, the world will look different again. For now this is enough: the steady movement of the wipers, the limited view, and the quiet decision to keep going.