“Lord, save me….”

(Matthew 14:22-33)

Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.  And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mount by himself to pray.  When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them.  And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea.  But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!”  And they cried out in fear.  But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”  He said, “Come.”  So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus.  But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and, beginning to sink, he cried out.  “Lord, save me!”  Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  When they got into the boat, the wind ceased.  And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

            I once read a sermon on this text as a way to get inspired to preach it and, frankly, to get some ideas different from my own.  She began what was really a very good sermon with this: “I had a classmate at a Christian college who repeatedly defined faith as “stepping out of airplanes, knowing that God will catch you.”  The preacher’s response was that surely God had better things to do than catch folks stepping out of airplanes.  But, it is for us to remember, none of this stuff is to be taken literally…. 

            …Don’t you think that Peter was absolutely terrified as he stepped out of the boat…?  Now, we do joke about being able to walk on water (as in somebody who is greatly admired is spoken of as walking on water).  But the meaning of this story does not come from getting all literal about it, like we should jump out of an airplane without a parachute or go try to walk on water.  And if we do that unsuccessfully we might think that we don’t have enough faith—or someone else may be telling us that.

            No, the meanings that come out of this story are much more profound than that.  It is moving us toward recognizing our deep dependence upon God, upon Christ.  It is NOT a scolding about too little faith.  It is an acknowledgement that we are all of little faith.  And I think that when we are feeling without faith it might be because we are fearful.  Now I know that most of us have had the experience of being swallowed up in fear. 

Sometimes, rather than living fully and completely, confidently and joyfully, light-heartedly and victoriously, we get caught up in the dilemma of living in such a way that all we are doing is avoiding death.  Our faith tells us that Christ has conquered death, not by ending it, but by looking it in the face, by facing it head-on, by walking forward full of faith.  That’s really what all this is about….

            Back to the faith conversation.  I imagine that we have all wondered if we have faith, if we have enough faith.  I have been asked that question often enough by folks and wondered at times for myself that I know that this really is our human condition.  Faith is never settled once and for all.  We cry out to Jesus when we’re scared, when we’re in trouble: “Save me.”  Or save our loved ones.  Save our state.  Save our nation.  And the truth is, like Peter, God grabs hold of us, and, if we’re paying attention, we’ll know we’ve been saved.  We will know ourselves to have been transformed.  But, then, often, down the road, somehow, we lose the moment, we lose the knowledge.  And we start to get scared again. 

So we never really get to check off the “have faith” box on our list of accomplishments because as this text shows us, we’re always working on opening ourselves to God so that we experience faith, so we experience God’s saving grace and that transformative experience that brings us up-close and personal with God.  Some call this being saved.

Now, I have heard stories about folks who show an amazing amount of faith when they are dealing with the death of loved one.  Everyone comments and admires how they are so accepting and grounded through the illness and death of their precious loved one.  But then…when it’s time for them to accept their own deaths, they, surprisingly, cannot come to terms with the end of their own lives.  They cling desperately to every last thread of medical technology.  …No judgement here because who knows how I’m gonna act at that stage of my life.  I’m simply saying that it’s hard to have faith when faced with death.

            I read one commentator whose take-away from the text was this directive, “Peter, stay in the boat.  The rest of the disciples did!”  Maybe Peter needed to sit tight in the boat.  The boat was the thing that was floating; it was their safe place on the storm-tossed sea, a sea that for ancient folk represented the unknown, the demonic, everything that was evil.  Stay in the boat, guys.  Only God knows how to deal with that sort of thing.  Only God can walk on water. 

Now, you may recall that a ship is a symbol for the church (not just this church or this denomination, but the church at large, the body of Christ).  So we could think about staying in the boat because that’s one way to talk about how we learn to be the church.  We can do this for those among us who are walking through the valley of the shadow of death.  We can think about staying in the boat as a way to hold space for a world that has become more and more bored with Christ’s church.  Maybe we just need to stay in the boat as a way to right our own course, as a safety net for those who are off on their independent journeys, as a coast guard kind of vessel for those who may be out there crying, “Lord, save!” 

We’re not saying getting in our boat is the only way to find God, but it is a safe harbor for many of us, a comfort, a rescue for those who are out in the storm-tossed seas of life.  This is kind of a contrast to what Peter wanted to do, right?  He wanted to get out there and meet Jesus on the water to show how he was the alpha disciple.  He wanted to be like Jesus, but he didn’t realize he was getting into the arena of trying to be God.

Instead of getting out of the boat we can speak to others or let ourselves hear, like Jesus did with the disciples.  We could say, “Take heart, friends, it is I, a follower of Christ; do not be afraid.”  This is something we can do—not walk on water, for crying out loud.  We can speak to them because, well, maybe we have been bobbing around after attempting to walk on water thinking we could manage everything ourselves.  Maybe we’ve grown tired of treading water after sinking like a stone when we were wanting to show off, like we had this faith thing all figured out.  Maybe we have drifted too far from the boat and need it to circle around and bring us on home so that we can hear Jesus say, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

So often we find ourselves living our lives in fear, fear of the storm, fear that we can’t do what we need to do, fear that we won’t measure up, fear of failure, fear of getting sick, fear that something bad will happen, fear of change, fear of death–others’ and our own.

There is an old spiritual entitled, “’Tis the Old Ship of Zion.”  The tune is very much like “Gimme that Old Time Religion,” in case you think you don’t know it.  So let’s turn to page 345 in your red hymnals and sing all the verses of “’Tis the Old Ship of Zion.”  When we’re done doing that, I’ll finish up my sermon, and then we’ll sing “Tell Me the Stories.” 

Perhaps the ship of Zion or walking on water or the safe harbor are good images for you.  Maybe the fear that was manifested in the disciples in this story is something that you can relate to.  Maybe you struggle with having the confidence of enough faith.  It’s all here in today’s lesson.  And the hymns we’re singing might drive it all home.  With God’s help.  Amen.