Don't Try This At Home

Sermon for Sunday, August 10, 2014

Avery United Methodist Church

Washington, PA

Rev. Erik A. Hoeke

Matthew 14:22-33

Common English Bible (CEB)

22 Right then, Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go ahead to the other side of the lake while he dismissed the crowds. 23 When he sent them away, he went up onto a mountain by himself to pray. Evening came and he was alone. 24 Meanwhile, the boat, fighting a strong headwind, was being battered by the waves and was already far away from land. 25 Very early in the morning he came to his disciples, walking on the lake.26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified and said, “It’s a ghost!” They were so frightened they screamed.

27 Just then Jesus spoke to them, “Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.”

28 Peter replied, “Lord, if it’s you, order me to come to you on the water.”

29 And Jesus said, “Come.”

Then Peter got out of the boat and was walking on the water toward Jesus. 30 But when Peter saw the strong wind, he became frightened. As he began to sink, he shouted, “Lord, rescue me!”

31 Jesus immediately reached out and grabbed him, saying, “You man of weak faith! Why did you begin to have doubts?” 32 When they got into the boat, the wind settled down.

33 Then those in the boat worshipped Jesus and said, “You must be God’s Son!”

Well, this is an interesting story, isn’t it? It begins with Jesus, worn out from a long day of ministry with the crowds, sneaking away for prayer time on a mountaintop. We can talk all we want about Jesus always being there for the disciples, but the truth is, sometimes he needed his own time to reconnect with God. So he sends them out on the lake, and soon after they depart from Jesus a storm begins.

This has happened before, of course. But last time, Jesus was in the boat – sleeping, but there nonetheless. This time, they’re all alone, with no Jesus to calm the storm. That’s how it is: sometimes, Jesus immediately calms the storm, and other times, the storm rages on through the night.

All night long they battle the storm, into the early morning hours. And whether it’s exhaustion from fighting to survive or simply the chaos of the crashing waves and sheets of rainfall, the disciples start to see a figure in the distance. This figure is walking across the water, so it must be a supernatural being. And they are terrified. “It’s a ghost!” they say – no, they scream – and I’m betting that at least the fishermen among them probably had some salty language to go with that fear.

But it’s not a ghost. It’s Jesus, walking across the lake. In a storm, remember. This is not a Sunday stroll for Jesus, but a walk across horrendous waves, with a torrential downpour pelting his face and shoulders, and vicious winds from all sides threatening to knock him down into the abyss. But Jesus treads on, mastering the chaos above, below, and all around.

“Be encouraged,” he calls out through the storm. “It’s me. Don’t be afraid.” To which Peter responds with a challenge: “Lord, if it’s you, order me to come to you on the water.” Jesus accepts the challenge, but rather than order he simply invites Peter: “Come.” Come, Peter. Give it a try.

So, out Peter goes, and this is where the story gets really interesting. Peter gets out of the boat, in a terrible storm, and starts walking on the water. We don’t know how far he gets, whether it’s a step or two, or almost the whole way to Jesus, but he gets out and walks on water, like a god.

What are we supposed to think about Peter’s actions here? This is something that has been much debated throughout Christian tradition. Should we praise Peter as courageous, for being the only disciple willing to risk stepping out of the boat to go towards Jesus? Or was he simply being selfish, leaving the boat – which symbolizes the community of faith – to merely do something that would draw attention to him? Perhaps he serves as a representative of the disciples, many scholars say, and he represents the faithful actions of all followers who risk the stormy seas to respond to Jesus’ invitation. Or, maybe Peter’s just an idiot. How else would you describe someone who jumps out of a boat in the middle of a storm and tries to walk on water?

Well, I think it’s a bit more nuanced than that. I do think Peter is courageous, for wanting to be like Jesus so much that he’s willing to try walking on water. But I also think it’s an ill-advised move, because while it’s okay to want to be as much like Jesus as you can be, it’s important to remember, Peter, that you are not in fact, Jesus. And it’s not okay to think that you are. But had Peter not stepped out on that water, would he have ever learned this important lesson?  And would we have ever learned it?

We could say that Peter may have only taken one or two steps on that water, which is better than most people I know, including myself. But then he starts to sink because he took his eyes off the ball, he lost focus of Jesus. But let’s not mistake the truth here: Peter was going to sink sooner or later. There is no way this story ends otherwise, I’m convinced. Because again, he’s like Jesus, but he is not Jesus. No one can master the chaos like Jesus can – no one before, no one since.

We laugh at how anyone could be so naïve to think otherwise, especially about themselves, as Peter did. But a little bit of introspection, I believe, will reveal that there’s a little bit of naïve Peter in all of us.

Sure, we may not expect to walk on water at our neighbor’s pool party or at the beach this summer, but how often are we naïve enough to believe that we can master the chaos, only to get knocked into the abyss by a stiff wind?

Picture two parents who do everything to raise their child well and give him every opportunity to succeed. They first conquer the chaos of diapers and middle of the night wake up calls, then master the chaos of potty-training, then the first day of school, followed by teenage angst and finally sending the boy off to college to become a man. They have tried to master the chaos as best they can at every point, and for a time it appears they’ve succeeded. Now their beloved child has a good job, a son, and a fiancé that he plans to marry next year. Not perfect by any means, but his life is coming together pretty well.

Then one day they discover that their son has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. And suddenly they are sinking, sinking, sinking, down into the abyss. “Lord, rescue us!” they cry!

Picture a man with a squeaky clean reputation. His whole life, chaotic waters have tempted him, but he has always managed to rise above them. He is a model husband and father, is of high character and standing in the community, and has always adhered to the highest ethical behavior while running his own company for over 3 decades. But now, he has a chance to make a shady business deal that could make him enough money to retire in a few months rather than a few years. It’s not exactly illegal, but it is unethical in the way it will adversely affect a large number of people. It’s not like him – he’s always stayed above the chaos - but the temptation is too great, and he makes the deal. And he is sinking, sinking, sinking, down into the abyss. “Lord, rescue me!” he cries.

Picture a pastor of a church. Churches are always chaotic, but this pastor has found a way to master the chaos: attend every meeting, keep conflict to a minimum, and do everything asked of him, no matter how unnecessary it seems. Sure, it requires insane hours and gallons of coffee, but that’s the sacrifice of ministry, he convinces himself. But one day he wakes up, and realizes that for all the chaos he’s mastered at the church, there’s chaos in other places that he hasn’t mastered: his health is suffering, his family life is strained, and the joy of being in ministry has left him – but he was too busy to notice. And he is sinking, sinking, sinking, guilty of trying to be not just like Jesus, but trying to be Jesus. “Lord, rescue me!” he cries from the depths of the chaos.

Everywhere I turn, I see people trying to be masters of their own chaos. From the simpler storms of our self-inflicted busyness to the more severe thunderstorms of illness and death, we convince ourselves that no matter what life gives us, we can handle it. After all, God won’t give us any more than we can handle, right?

Wrong. Life often gives us more than we can handle, and God allows this to happen so that we may learn to trust in God rather than our own ability to master the chaos.

You know, there’s nothing wrong in wanting to be like Jesus. Indeed, that is what we should strive for. But when did we, like Peter, start trying to live our lives as if we are Jesus? When did we abandon trust in God and replace it with trust in our own efforts, our own steps out on the water? I don’t know when it was for me, but now that I’m sinking I realize how foolish it was to think I could ever walk on water.

You might be sinking too, unable to conquer the storms of life that rage on around you. But be encouraged! Jesus is here, don’t be afraid. And while he may not immediately calm the storm, without hesitation he will reach out and keep you from being swallowed by the waves, if only you call out to him for rescue. Of course, it requires a humble confession, like the one from Peter, a confession that we are in need of saving because we can’t save ourselves.

Whether it was the right decision or not, I’m glad Peter got out of the boat that day. Because in being stupid enough to do so, he reminds me even today that I too am sometimes stupid enough to think that I can master the chaos. In truth, it’s all I can do to keep from sinking. And were it not for Jesus, I would have sunk down into the depths long ago. So, every time I feel myself knocked down by the stiff winds, I remember Peter’s most courageous act of all: crying out, “Lord, rescue me!”

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Praise You In This Storm

Dangerous storms have taken hold of many parts of the United States this week. Tornadoes, flooding, and high winds are causing destruction, injury, and even death for thousands of people. Very real storms of life are raging around them.

In places not affected by dangerous weather conditions, storms are still raging. This week, someone has received a diagnosis that will change their life. Another is in the throes of depression. Still others are facing prejudice and discrimination for their skin color, gender, or sexual identity. These are not storms of the natural world, yet they are equally as real and frightening. In fact, all three storms I mentioned above are storms raging right now in the lives of people close to me.

“When the storms of life are raging, stand by me,” wrote the great hymn writer Charles Tindley in 1906. “When the world is tossing me, like a ship upon the sea, thou who rulest wind and water, stand by me.”

These physical and metaphorical storms remind me of the two stories in the Gospel of Matthew where Jesus calms a storm. The first, in Matthew 8:23-27, tells of terrified disciples in the midst of a great windstorm. In their fear, they wake up a sleeping Jesus, who immediately calms the disciples and the storm.

The second story, in Matthew 14:22-33, is much different. The storm arises without Jesus in the boat. But in the midst of the storm, Jesus walks on the water toward the boat, encouraging them to “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Then Peter, one of the disciples, begins to courageously walk out on the water towards Jesus. After a few steps, his fear returns, and he starts to sink. Jesus pulls him out of the waves and helps him into the boat. Only then does the storm subside.

These stories are similar in many ways, but you may have noticed one key difference. In the first story, Jesus immediately calms the storm. In the second, the storm continues to rage on even after Jesus appears, and only after Peter’s time of faith and fear, of walking and sinking, do the wind and waves become calm.

What this means is that sometimes Jesus sees us struggling in the storms of life, and immediately takes those storms away. But other times, when the storms of life are raging, Jesus simply stands by us. He does not take the storms away, but instead catches us as he caught Peter, just before we sink completely into chaotic waters.

Of course, we’d prefer to always be rescued from storms. But that is not always what happens. Sometimes storms last for a long time, and while they rage on, Jesus is there not to calm the storm, but to calm us and make sure we don’t sink while the storm continues. Our response is to cling tightly to God, and if we are able, to praise God in the storm. If the storms of life are raging, there is a God who stands by you. Praise be to God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer who stands by.

Doing God's Will

[Jesus said,] “What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” (Matthew 21:28-31a)

In the weeks leading up to Super Bowl XL in 2006, Seattle Seahawks tight end Jerramy Stevens did what he always did: he talked a big game. In fact, he was so confident that he practically guaranteed that his team would beat the Steelers on Sunday. Stevens became the center of attention on Super Bowl Media Day.

Steelers fans know how that worked out for Stevens and his Seahawks. They would lose Super Bowl XL by a final score of 21-10. And while Stevens caught the only touchdown pass for the Seahawks, he also dropped several passes in key moments. His performance, and that of his team, did not live up to his pre-game comments. That day, the world discovered that Jerramy Stevens’ bark was worse than his bite.

Everyone knows how to talk a big game. We all make predictions and promises, and tell people what we are going to do. But do we always live up to the hype? Do we always live as we say we will?

I usually start my day with prayer and devotional reading. In that time, I am trying to connect with God and prepare to do God’s will that day. On good days, I follow through. I live like a disciple, following the command to love God and love others.

But I also have days where my bark is bigger than my bite. Like the second son in Jesus’ parable, I tell God all the things I will do in God’s name, but my actions tell a different story. I gossip. I complain. I fail to show compassion to others. Simply put, I don’t do what I said I was going to do.

What is God asking you to do today? How is God asking you to live? It is easy to say we’ll live as God wants us to. But saying we will do something and actually doing what we promise to do are two different things. Will you do the will of God today?

Father, Forgive

When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” - Luke 23:33-34

Several years ago, the bishop took me and the rest of my ordination class on a Wesleyan Heritage Tour of England. Much of the trip included stops rich with Wesleyan and Methodist history: Epworth, Port of Pill, Bristol, and London. But other parts of our trip were not connected to our heritage as Methodists at all. One such place was Coventry Cathedral.

Coventry Cathedral, like many European cathedrals, sits on a hill in the center of the City of Coventry. On November 14, 1940, this city was blitzed by German forces and almost completely destroyed. The Cathedral itself was hollowed out by the bombs, and only a shell of the outer walls and the spire, or tower, remained.

In the face of such devastating damage to their beloved Cathedral, the congregation had two choices: knock down all signs of destruction and rebuild on site, or leave the remains as a memorial and build a new cathedral on the adjacent lot. They chose the latter, and to this day the remains of the old cathedral stand as a memorial to the destruction of the Second World War, not only in Coventry but in many parts of the world. Here are pictures of the old and new Coventry Cathedral:

 

What’s most amazing, however, is not the congregation’s decision to rebuild. It was the decision to inscribe two words on the wall behind the altar of the old cathedral, two words that remain there today: “Father, Forgive.”

“Father, Forgive.” These two words have a lot of power, don’t they? They were the words of the broken people of Coventry in 1940, and they are the words of Jesus as he hung on the cross. “Father, Forgive.”

But it is not the words themselves that are powerful. The full weight of these words comes from the context in which they are spoken. Here are people whose city had been basically obliterated, countless lives lost, and their beautiful cathedral reduced to rubble. If there were ever a time when anger at an enemy was justified, this was it. What did the people of Coventry do to deserve this? What senseless violence, destroying historic buildings and taking thousands of civilian lives! They had every right to be angry at the Germans and at anyone else responsible for this destruction!

Yet the response, at least of this congregation, was not white-hot anger. Maybe it was how they wanted to respond. But they didn’t. Instead, they took the time to inscribe “Father, Forgive.” The didn't pass a resolution at a board meeting, they didn't put up a temporary sign. They chiseled away stone until the words formed: "Father, Forgive."

You know, there are times in our lives when we are completely justified in our anger. Someone does something to us or to someone we love, and we have every right to be ticked off, every right to be upset. When enemies attack us today, we are raging mad. For instance:

1.     The anger we felt after 9/11 was justified – there’s nothing wrong with being incensed at such senseless violence and innocent lives lost. We were justified in being angry. But then as Christians, we remember those two words: “Father, Forgive.”

2.     When I was in school and a friend of mine was the victim of sexual assault, I was so angry I wanted to scream. I punched a pillow so I wouldn’t punch the guy who did this to her. Even today, I cannot help but shake in anger when talking about it. I was justified in my anger, but instead of enacting retribution, I muttered under my breath, “Father, Forgive.” I said it to myself for days, weeks, months, as long as it took for me to start believing these two words I was saying.

3.     Just a couple of weeks ago, I heard a Christian make an incredibly racist comment about friends of mine – a comment so ignorant and so vile that I cannot even bring myself to repeat it. And my goodness was I angry. Oh, I was so stinkin’ mad that I wanted to yell and scream and say hateful things back to this person, so they would know how it felt. But instead, I took a deep breath, and another, and another, until I was able to mutter with clenched teeth: “Father, Forgive.”

“Father, forgive.” Jesus was perfect and blameless, and had done nothing to deserve the gruesome death of crucifixion. If he wanted to be angry in that moment, no one would have blamed him. Yet from the cross – as he hung on the cross! – he did not let anger get the best of him. He may have indeed been angry at them. He could have cursed the people killing him. He could have bragged about the resurrection to come. He could’ve said, “You will rue the day you killed me!” That's probably what I would've wanted to say if I were him. But he said none of this. What Jesus said was this:

“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” 

Father, forgive our enemies, for they do not know what they are doing. Father, forgive terrorists, for they do not know what they are doing. Father, forgive perpetrators of sexual assault, for they do not know what they are doing. Father, forgive those who speak the language of hate, for they do not know what they are doing. Father, forgive anyone who harms another person with word or deed, or enacts any kind of evil, for they do not know what they are doing.

These are not easy words to say. It is much easier to react in anger, especially when we have every right to be angry. But the way of Christ rises above such retribution and revenge. The way of Christ calls us to a higher standard. The way of Christ is to look at our enemies, even as they hurt us, and pray:

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. Amen."

Visitation Inspiration

             Yesterday I visited a church member in the hospital. As usual, I went in hoping to cheer this person up and provide hope and inspiration in the midst of sickness. Our conversation started predictably, as we chatted about the weather, the church, and this person’s illness. But eventually it came time to pray with her before leaving. So I took her hand, and prayed for healing, for strength, and for peace. I thanked God for the continued presence of the Holy Spirit, and for giving us that time together. As I closed, I reminded the church member that Pastor Rod, our prayer & witness team, and others in the church were keeping her in prayer.

           

            This is where the visit then took an unexpected turn. The person looked up at me from her hospital bed, and with all the strength she could muster, she said the following:

            “I don’t know what’s around the bend, but I do know that God is all-knowing, all-sustaining, and all-loving. God loves us. God loves me. God is love. And God is in control. I know now just how much God is definitely in control.”

            Wow! I had come to the hospital to encourage and inspire her, and instead, she inspired me. What a tremendous witness to her faith that from the depths of her illness, she speaks words of hope and trust in God! I carried this message in my heart the rest of the day, thankful for that sacred time with her. It was the highlight of my day. No, it was the highlight of my week, and that is why I have shared her words with you. Won’t you carry these words with you today, and share them with others who might need to hear it?