The mariners were afraid, and cried every one unto his god.
Fear driving men to God
We see how in dangers men are constrained to call on God. Though, indeed, there is a certain impression by nature on the hearts of men as to God, so that everyone, willing and unwilling, is conscious that there is some Supreme Being; we yet, by our wickedness, smother this light which ought to shine within us. We indeed gladly cast away all cares and anxieties; for we wish to live at ease, and tranquillity is the chief good of man. Hence it comes that all desire to live without fear and without care, and thence we all naturally seek quietness. Yet this quietness generates contempt. Hence, then, it is that hardly any religion appears in the world when God leaves us in an undisturbed condition. Fear constrains us, however unwilling, to come to God. False, indeed, is what is said, that fear is the cause of religion, and that it was the first reason why men thought that there were gods; this notion is indeed wholly inconsistent with common sense and experience. But religion which has become nearly extinct, or at least covered over in the hearts of men, is stirred up by dangers. Of this Jonah gives a remarkable instance when he says that the sailors “cried, each of them to his God.” We know how barbarous is this race of men; they are disposed to shake off every sense of religion, they indeed drive away every fear, and deride God Himself as long as they may. Hence, that they cried to God, it was no doubt what necessity forced them to do. And here we may learn how useful it is for us to be disquieted by fear; for while we are safe, torpidity, as it is well known, creeps over us. Since, then, hardly any one of him self comes to God, we have need of goads; and God sharply pricks us when He brings any danger so as to constrain us to tremble. But in this way He stimulates us; for we see that all would go astray, and even perish in their thoughtless ness, were He not to draw them back, even against their own will. (John Calvin.)
Fear at the prospect of death
Pliny, who was a contemporary of the Apostle John, made some close observations of the animal world. Among other things he tells us of the mole--“Moriendo incipit oculos aperire,” that is to say, “the mole first opens his eyes in death.” And such is really the case, for the mole’s eyelids, on account of his occupation, are closed all his life long, and only when lie is dying does he force wide open his small black eyes and look round upon the world, and up to the sky. Now, although the mole is not a favourite among men either for its usefulness or its beauty, we may be permitted to say that most human beings, created in the image of God, do just the same as the mole. Of them, too, it is true that, for the most part, they only truly open their eyes, that is, their inward eyes, in death. Then only, when about to leave the world and time, are their eyes couched; not till then do they learn to distinguish between what is something and what is nothing, what is vanity and what is true glory; and then, for the first time, they look up to the inexhaustible sources of eternal life, and discover, to their horror, that like deluded fools they have all along been pursuing what was only illusion, deception, or imposture. Yea, only in that hour do they who took so much pride in their own wisdom become wise in the sense which Moses meant when he prayed: “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” So late do they begin to seek the antidote to death. Thus we find the fellow-voyagers of the runaway prophet are full of dread and dismay at the gates of death. (Otto Funcke.)
The superstitious infidel
The man who, in ordinary circumstances, refuses a just and enlightened submission to the authority of God is, in the hour of calamity, of all others the most likely to degrade his nature and his name by the low and debasing services of a gross superstition.
I. Whence does infidelity originate?
1. Not, assuredly, in the superior understanding of its subjects. Were it even so, that the most acute individuals were found in the ranks of infidelity, still infidelity gains nothing unless it can either be shown that it is itself the cause of this acumen, or that it results properly and immediately from its exertions. Infidelity is the vice not of mature but of juvenile minds, or of those whose minds never open beyond the attainments of indiscretion.
2. Infidelity, in very many instances, derives its origin from the distorted views of religion, which superstition or bigotry present.
3. The grand origin of all infidelity is the pride and pollution of the heart. Passion now usurps the authority over conscience, and the understanding submits to the will. What we strongly incline to we are easily persuaded to believe; whereas, a doctrine that opposes our desires, it is hardly possible to bear. The principles of infidelity may be held in the fullest harmony with indulged sensuality.
II. Trace infidelity in its results. Follow the history of the infidel to his ultimate manifestation. That sooner or later he will be revealed is what we are warranted to assume. In one or other of the following ways is his folly revealed.
1. By voluntary confession on his acceptance of the Saviour.
2. By the despair which must follow the rejection of this salvation.
3. By the degrading superstitions to which the infidel is constrained to apply.
II. What judgment ought to be formed of such a system of principles?
1. Of its wisdom. Intellect is the boast of infidels.
2. Of its practical influence. The interests of society are concerned here.
3. What is infidelity with respect to its ultimate comfort?
That is no religion for man which does not afford consolation. (James Simpson.)
Seamen in storms
I. The mighty agency of God. The wind is a strange power in nature. The fact that storms are under Divine direction should--
1. Rouse us to consider them as God’s voice.
2. Lead us to submit to the catastrophes they produce.
II. The natural instincts of man. These men developed--
1. The dread of death.
2. Faith in prayer. Their prayer involved--
(1) Faith in the existence of divinity.
(2) Faith in the intreatableness of divinity.
III. The strange vicariousness of suffering. The storm came on as a consequence of the sin of Jonah. The innocent suffer for the guilty the world over. The principle of vicarious suffering is a principle developed in the experience of all. We suffer for others, and others have suffered for us. A man may deny the justice of vicarious suffering, but he cannot deny the fact. The sufferings of mariners are strikingly vicarious. Let shipwrecks remind us--
1. To put our confidence in God.
2. Of our moral condition.
3. Of our duty to pray for our brethren on the sea. (Homilist.)
They cast forth the wares that were in the ship into the sea.
The unavailing sacrifice
Whatever sacrifices the sinner in the hour of trial may be disposed to make, nothing can avail him so long as unpardoned sin remains concealed in the heart.
I. There are important sacrifices which, in the hour of trial, the awakened sinner will make.
1. The awakened sinner may abandon, in the hopes of relief, his worldly companions. These were his treasure.
2. Conviction may even constrain the sacrifice of the most endeared and of the most inveterate habits of sin,
3. He sacrifices his prejudices.
4. He sacrifices his personal ease.
5. He will even sacrifice his worldly substance.
II. Sacrifices so presented can never be accepted of God. They have no intrinsic value;--they are involuntary--unseasonable--selfish--unauthorised--unbelieving--and unholy. Such sacrifices may be made while sin remains safely concealed in the soul. Two things are requisite in order to our intercourse with God. Not only must iniquity be pardoned, but it must also be destroyed as to the influence which it exerts on the heart. By that method of salvation which the Scripture reveals, holiness is effectually secured. (James Simpson.)