Proper 14A (10th Sunday after Pentecost) August 9, 2020
Matthew 14:23-33 Panzer Liturgical Service, Stuttgart
In his book, If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat, pastor John Ortberg tells a story about an unexpected birthday gift from his wife, a hot air balloon ride for two. When they arrived at the field where the balloons were tethered, he climbed in the basket with his wife, the pilot, and another couple, and off they went.
It was a beautiful day, flying high between the California mountains and the Pacific coastline. The majesty of the scene took his breath away. But soon he realized that he was feeling something unexpected… fear.
He always thought those baskets went about chest high, but this one only came up to their knees. He worried that one good wind would be enough to pitch someone overboard. One look at his wife told him that she was even more uncomfortable than he. So, he decided that if he got into a conversation with the balloon pilot, it would make him feel calmer. “How did you get started flying balloons,” he asked.
“Dude, it’s like this.…” Uh oh… it turns out the guy actually didn’t have a job but was a local surfer who did this a little money on the side. He went on to explain that he got started flying hot-air balloons after he had crashed his truck drunk-driving, injuring his brother. While his brother was recovering, the driver-brother learned to pilot balloons so that he could take his brother for a ride.
“By the way,” he added, “if things get a little choppy on the way down, don’t be surprised. I’ve never flown this particular balloon before, and I’m not sure how it’s going to handle the descent.”
John’s wife looked over at him and said, “You mean to tell me we are a thousand feet up in the air with an unemployed surfer who started flying hot-air balloons because he got drunk, crashed a pickup, injured his brother has never been in this balloon before and doesn’t know how to bring it down?”
Then the wife of the other couple looked at John and said, “You’re a pastor. Do something religious.” “You mean, like taking up an offering?” John asked. They were not amused. In hindsight, he realized that the real question of the day was, “Can I trust the pilot?” You know how it is. We tell ourselves that everything will be OK – that a positive attitude makes for a pleasant journey. But in the end, John realized that the real issue concerned the dude who was flying the balloon.[i]
Our gospel lesson today falls immediately after our lesson from last week – Jesus feeding the multitude by the sea. When Jesus hears of the death of John the Baptist, he retreats to a place alone, to pray and I’m sure to wonder what would come next. The disciples head out to cross the water in a boat – the kind that they were familiar with, in the same waters where they had fished before. But as the small storm buffeted them around, they realized that this didn’t feel like anything they had been through before.[ii]
The language of the original text speaks of a storm
that “torments” the boat… the disciples did everything they could to keep the
boat from going down. It was then that one of the disciples noticed a shadowy
figure walking toward them… on the water. Frightened and amazed, they realized
that the closer Jesus got, the calmer the sea became. Jesus’ presence was their
port in the storm, even in the middle of the water. His presence with them said,
“You can trust me. Your destiny is in my hands and it will be OK.”[iii]
(c) Deb Teagan - Israel 2019
Peter, never one to mince words, blurted out, “If it is you, Lord, then command me to walk on the water to you.” Jesus responded with just one word. “Come.” Peter, feeling himself sinking, cried out, “Save me, Lord.” And Jesus reached out a hand, reminding Peter that doubt is often the greatest enemy.
We talk about this as the story of Jesus walking on water. But what if it’s bigger than that? What if the lessons to learn come from what happened next? The more I read this story, the more I realize that we aren’t meant to live this life of faith with our own power or instinct alone. We are created to be in relationship with, and walking with, the One in whose image we are created.
At its core, this passage is about radical discipleship. It reminds us that Jesus asks us every day to do some amazing, scary things. Sometimes, they make no sense to us. They are outside our comfort zones. They require us to behave ways that seem unsafe or outside of the world’s expectations. And like Peter, in the middle of our water-walking, we feel ourselves slipping under, unsure of our path, and fearful of the way ahead.
25 years – that’s how long I’ve been a military spouse. And it didn’t take me too long to realize that some duty stations are more desirable than others. We have had some great postings, including living in Germany twice, but we have also gone to a few places where people asked, “Who did you make mad?” but using more colorful language. To many, those assignments are seen as a punishment, or as a place to fly under the radar. “How soon can we leave?” is often the question.
But those wilderness assignments were some of our best. Those were the places where I made the best friends, where my unique contributions to life were best received. And it was in those places that I learned one of the most important lessons of my entire faith journey. And this is it… life isn’t always about either/or.
We get lured into thinking that we are choosing between two things. In this year alone we have been inundated with choices: masks or no-masks; virtual school or going in person; travel or no travel, and if we go, how many times will we change the destination before we actually leave – if we even go at all. All of the decisions we’ve had to consider during these COVID-19 days feel consequential, not just for our own health and the health of our families. Like it or not, my choices also affect the health of the whole community and even the world.
And add to that the choices for our upcoming US elections, decisions rooted in our understanding of climate change, our reactions to racial tensions, poverty, and homelessness, and what inclusion looks like for the church and democracy… it’s so overwhelming, we can be paralyzed into doing nothing at all. Hear me, friends, I’m not saying that taking time for self-care is wrong – Jesus actually models that for us here and at other times in the Gospels. But willfully choosing to do nothing when we can do something – that’s often where our problems get us off track.
That is what Paul is talking about in Romans 10.
12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. 13 For, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” 14 But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? 15 And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent?
We are often called to navigate through multiple options, some of which would have seemed improbable or impossible at some time in our pasts. I look at Peter, who is so filled with his faith in Jesus that he gets out of a boat on choppy seas and begins to walk Jesus’ way. I’m sure his boatmates were shocked – maybe they were even trying to keep him from taking that first step. It’s only when Peter becomes distracted by the storm around him that he begins to sink. And while many interpret Jesus’ response as a rebuke, I am just as inclined to see him as the parent encouraging their kid who has jumped from the side of the pool, “Hey, I’m here, don’t worry, keep trusting me, I won’t let you sink.”
Earlier, we heard the story of Joseph and his brothers. Some of us might have been distracted by scenes and songs from “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” while we were hearing this story of betrayal and human depravity – there’s not much worse than throwing your brother in a pit with no water in the desert, and then sitting down nearby to eat a good lunch… unless it’s planning to sell him into slavery and when realizing he was no longer in the pit, pretending he got killed by a wild animal so that their father wouldn’t know what they did… All in all, Joseph’s brothers were pretty bad.
Next week we’ll skip ahead eight chapters and see how their story gets resolved, but I don’t want us to gloss over their horrific behavior. Each of the 10 brothers has a different reaction to what happened… some were active plotters – others hung on for the ride. But let’s not be tempted into thinking that the Joseph story is about the sovereignty of God, who makes bad things happen so that good things will eventually prevail. This is a story about how easy it is for things to go badly when we put our own desires and wants above our trust that God will to see our needs are met.[iv]
When we look back over our lives, it’s often easy to see the places where God has been at work, even when it didn’t feel like it at the time. Sometimes the choices I made were good – other times they were difficult and judged harshly by those around me. Often, I could have done better but learned important lessons in the aftermath and recovery.
In the end, I am reminded that without those experiences, I would not be the person I am today, and maybe not even in this place. God did not abandon me in those times of doubt and fear – like a good GPS, when I took a wrong turn, God was always there helping me recalculate to get me back on a new path of faithful living. And I so grateful to the friends and faithful who helped me along the way.
Our faith journeys are not just important to our own spiritual and physical well-being. They are also necessary to the lives of those we meet along the way. Because how will people understand the joy and the challenges of faith in Jesus Christ unless they see it lived out in us? Our willingness to get out of the boat gives others the courage to do the same.
John Ortberg's question comes back to me as we close out today: Do I trust the pilot of this ship? Do I trust the one who compels me to get out of the boat? If the answer is yes, if we live life to its fullest with him, we will get banged around and become disoriented. But it's OK. Jesus is not a ghost from the past or a miracle worker who comes to take our troubles away. He isn't our tour guide or life coach. He is the Son of the living God, who is present with us, and whose grace upholds us when we cannot stand by ourselves. Jesus wants more than to command our attention; he wants to save our lives. And he has promised to do just that.[v]
So what are you waiting for? Get out of the boat.
Prayer:
Lord, you have demonstrated your miracles to us countless times. You repeatedly remind us of your redemptive love and grace, and you call us to a life of discipleship, towards a promise of good news. So often, we proclaim our faith in you but stray away from what and who you have called us to be. Though we strive to do your will, we become misguided. Though we brag about our faith, we are easily discouraged. Forgive us for these sins of arrogance and faithlessness.
Thank you, that each time we fail in our faith, you are there to pull us back above the water, to calm the storms that pull us away, and to bring us back to you. Though we struggle with our own faith, your faithfulness endures. Your faithfulness brings redemption, healing, and salvation. Remind us again of your eternal love, so that we might once again find ourselves in your presence, ready and able to do your will. Lead us into a life of discipleship. Through Christ our Lord we pray. Amen.[vi]
[i] John Ortberg, http://www.johnortberg.com/the-water-or-the-boat/
[ii] Ben Cremer, http://www.aplainaccount.org/proper-14a-gospel
[iii] John Ortberg, ibid.
[vi] Allan Stanton, Pulpit Resource. Vol. 48, No. 3, Year A, August 9, 2020.
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