“Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid. Come.” (Matthew 14:27)When did you first begin to think about God for yourself, as someone other than whatever your parents told you about him? For me, I think it was the age of seven. I was on the beach in my hometown of Vero Beach, Florida, with my parents, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean before me. And for the first time, I really looked at that vast expanse of water. And I saw a ship just coming into view over the horizon. For the first time in my seven-year-old life, I got a glimpse of just how vast was this world I had been placed in, and how small I really was. And I realized that whoever made that ocean, and the ground on which I stood had to be even more vast.
When I was eight, my mother moved me and my older brother to Knoxville for a year while she studied for a Master’s degree in Public Administration, so that she could go from being a schoolteacher to a school administrator. In that year, this Florida boy discovered snow, and the Great Smoky Mountains. Later, my college geology professor would tell me that the region called Appalachia, from Northwestern Georgia all the way to southern Maine, is probably the oldest land mass on Earth. When we left to go back to Florida, I cried much of the way. My mother dismissed my tears, saying that I was just going to miss the pool at our apartment complex. But I remembered the mountains. They touched something in my eight-year-old soul, a desire for permanence?
I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two types of people in the world, “beach people” and “mountain people.” There is something in the vastness of the ocean, and the constant motion of the waves that speaks to some of their spiritual need to be on the move, to flow with the changes of life and world. Others need a high rock to stand on. They need permanence. They need that which endures and survives.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus’ disciples know what it is to have to trust God amid the stormy waters. And they know what it is to beg for firm ground underneath them. They don’t want to go out into the water. Jesus “made” them get into the boat and go ahead of him to the other side of the lake. It would be accurate to say that Jesus “forced” his disciples to leave without him. They were forced to venture out into the water, symbol of all the chaos and unpredictable disasters that haunt this world. And their only rock, their only protection against the violent wind and crashing waves, was their boat. And that boat was getting “battered” by the waves and the wind. The Greek word translated “battered” literally means, “to torment,” “to torture.” So here is this little church. All the disciples that Jesus has fitting into this boat. And here is this church being tortured by the physical forces of the water and wind. Here is this church of terrified disciples, afraid for their lives, and their hopes for the future.
Look around us, and see the angled roof above us. Imagine all the churches with those angled roofs. Then imagine those buildings turned upside down, and understand that we all are the church in a boat, tormented by unpredictable winds and crashing waves which we fear will swamp us. But then, look outside the boat, and see our Lord and Savior, walking on the very water we fear will drown us, and saying, “Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.”
And then Peter, in his mix of sincerity and recklessness, says, “Lord, if it’s you, order me to come to you on the water.” You know, Peter, that Satan said something pretty similar to Jesus from the top of the Temple: “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down.” Maybe you might want to trust that Jesus will come to you in the boat that is the church. And yet, Jesus responds, not with a rebuke, but a simple word, “Come.” And so Peter takes a risk in faith. He steps out onto that vast expanse of water, heaving to and from as the waves crest and crash. And yet he makes it, for at least a little bit. Then, when his trust fails him and he cries out, “Rescue me!” there is Jesus right beside him. He would have come to the disciples in the boat. But he is also there on the restless and unpredictable sea.
For much of my adult life, my love of the mountains went with my search for the rock, a search for certainty. But as I’ve gotten older, and hopefully wiser, I’ve rediscovered that seven-year-old child who saw the ship coming over the horizon and realized how small he was. But I’m not scared of that smallness. I’m not afraid of the water. I know that there is a God who made the ocean, and who made you and made me. And the God that made us sees us. And God’s Son walks toward us and our small battered boat wherever we are. God’s purpose for each of us, and for this boat, will be achieved regardless of the storms that torment us. And if we hear Jesus calling us to come to him on the water, then we can do so, knowing that even if we fail, he will be there to take our hand.
When I was in seminary, a spiritual director led me in a guided meditation to meet “my Jesus.” In my mind, I went to a special place, which for me turned out to be the beach. Since imagination is one of God’s gifts to us, then God can guide that imagination. I visualized a candle on the horizon that came closer to me on the water, and then took shape as a man, who was very happy to see me. We sat on that beach and talked. And then he got up. I said, don’t go. And he offered his hand and said, come with me. What is it like walking on water? As God gave me the spirit to imagine it, it felt like a very hard sponge. It gave ground beneath my steps, but it remained firm.
Whether in this fellowship hall, or in the new church that is coming, Jesus is making us go out into the water, where we will be battered by the waves. But whatever comes, he is also coming with us. And if we dare to walk with him, he will always be close enough to us to reach out and grab us. So be encouraged! It’s him. Don’t be afraid. Come.
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