I've been crawling up this a'a rock cliff for far too long, my fingers already bloody and torn to shreds, moving so slowly as to barely outrace the rising tide, when I hear a splash below me.
So the disciples are crossing Galilee in a boat, and a storm suddenly blows in. And they panic. And at some point, they wake Jesus up. "How can you be sleeping? Can't you see we're in danger?"
One way to read their reaction is as an overreaction. Another is to trust that, as veteran fishermen, they knew their business, and they actually were in very real danger.
Here's me: "This is a pretty rough storm. I don't know how we're going to survive. But I don't want to wake Jesus up. He might think I'm just overreacting. And that I don't know my way around a boat."
Here's Jesus: "Bah. How much rougher do I have to make this storm before this guy wakes me up and asks for help?"
In August of 2015, the medical industry began taking an unprecedented and mostly unwarranted interest in my affairs.