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.
