“Sink or Swim?”
A Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Jean Niven Lenk
Sunday, January 29, 2012
First Congregational Church of Stoughton
United Church
of Christ
Text: Matthew
14:22-33
Several years ago, the National Geographic News ran an article
about a creature called the basilisk lizard.
These lizards are unusual because they are able to scurry across the
surface of ponds and streams. They do so
by generating enough force with their feet that keeps their bodies upright
above the water. And it should come as
no surprise to anyone who is familiar with this morning’s Gospel lesson that
scientists have nicknamed this amphibian the “Jesus Lizard” because of its
seeming power to walk on water.
There’s
an enduring fascination with the story of Jesus walking on water, which is told
by three of the four gospel writers.[1] Of all the miracle-stories in the New
Testament, this is one of the most celebrated and well known – but not,
I think, because it is arguably the flashiest of Jesus’ miracles. I think the story
of Jesus walking on water is told and retold because it is full of wisdom and
truth about faith, and also about the human condition: we see ourselves in this
story.
As it opens, the disciples are traveling by boat to the other side of the
Sea of Galilee, leaving Jesus with some time to be alone with God and
pray. Once the disciples are out on the
sea, however, a fierce storm blows up, and the boat is buffeted by the waves.
The Sea of Galilee was known for its sudden violent storms,
and the ancient Hebrews felt so powerless in the face of its unpredictability
that, in their stories and in their thinking, water represented chaos and a
threatening force opposed to God. When
the Hebrews wanted to stress God's authority, they spoke of Yahweh's power over
the sea, as in these words from Psalm 107: "He made the storm be still,
and the waves of the sea were hushed."
Out in that boat on the Sea of Galilee, in that unexpected storm, that
unforeseen chaos, the disciples are frightened.
But then, through the raging tempest, they see a figure; someone appears
to be walking across the sea! Who is it?
they wonder; who could it be? Perhaps a
ghost? Startled at seeing someone walk
on water, they don't at first recognize Jesus.
But then he speaks to them these comforting words: "Take heart, it
is I; do not be afraid."
Peter responds, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the
water.” And Jesus says, “Come.” As a show of faith, Peter – impetuous as
always – accepts Jesus’ invitation and tries to join him on the water. He even succeeds for a moment or two. But then Peter realizes just what he is
doing; trying to walk on water is crazy enough in itself, but he’s trying it in
the middle of a terrible storm. Fear
overtakes him; it causes him to take his eyes off of Jesus, and he begins to
sink.
It is the
fear that sinks us. Anyone who’s taught
swimming to adult beginners knows that tense, frightened bodies sink, and the
same body -- relaxed -- somehow floats.
Perhaps you know it from your own life.
The fear that paralyzes, the fear that turns a buoyant spirit into a
sinking stone. Fear that keeps us from
stepping out, from taking chances, from trying new things, from growing and
changing and living.
It is the
fear that sinks us. And when the waters
of chaos and confusion threaten, it’s difficult to trust Jesus’ words, “Do not
be afraid.” It is even harder to walk
into the chaos and confusion and to keep our focus on Jesus when he bids us “come.”
Yes, water can be dangerous. The ancient Hebrews knew that. But water is also life; it is the symbol of
the bond Christ has made with us – the waters of baptism, the living water he
offers -- refreshing, renewing, and redeeming.
Jesus says to the disciples, and to all of us, “‘Take heart,
it is I; do not be afraid’.” These are
welcome words in the chaos of life. But
it is hard to keep our focus, to live in faith, when the winds of our life are
howling and the waves are overwhelming.
Peter is able to walk on water until he lets the ferocity of the wind
distract him. The text says he
doubts. The Greek word for doubt suggests
“going in two directions at once.” It is
not that Peter does not trust Jesus; he does.
It is that he both trusts Jesus and
fears the storm at the same time. Even
with Jesus close at hand, Peter cannot deny the howling wind and its ominous
threat. And how often is that our story,
too?
And so, what
storm is blowing in your life right now?
Where do you feel buffeted by the winds, overcome by the chaos, over your
head, under water, drowning? What is
frightening you, diverting you from God; distracting you from Jesus?
When
Peter begins to sink, frightened by the wind, he cries out, “Lord, save
me!” And Jesus is there, immediately
reaching out his hand and catching Peter.
And when we find ourselves sinking, besieged by the waters of life,
overwhelmed by chaos, beset by the winds, Jesus’ hand is there for us to
grab.
Jesus is
here right now -- here in our midst; that is his promise – where two or
three -- or seventy or eighty – are
gathered. He is here in this gathered
community. He is here in the waters of
baptism, in the reading of scripture, the singing of hymns, the saying of
prayers. He is here in the lighting of
candles, in the passing of the peace, in the silence.
We can sink amid our fear. Or we can reach out to Jesus and swim,
trusting that the One who calls us to “Come” also reaches out to catch us in
his firm grip. Yes, life can be
hard. The winds can blow, the waters can
be rough, and we can be overwhelmed. But
we need not be afraid because we can trust in Christ’s promise that he is
always with us with a hand that reaches us out and lifts us up and saves
us. Amen.
