Matthew 14:22-33
Immediately he made the disciples get into the 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 mountain 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 towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, 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 towards 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.
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If you have someone in your life who is willing to journey with you, you have everything.
As I write this sermon in the evening, I imagine today’s story unfolding against the backdrop of the sun hanging low in the sky: the day is ending, the wind is starting to pick up, and the temperature is starting to drop. Everyone knows that after sunset, dusk will fall and darkness will settle over the lake. If you’ve ever known the terror of being alone in a storm you may also know what it means to learn to be comfortable—or more comfortable, if that’s possible—with uncertainty: your boat, even with your companions together in it, is only getting farther from the land, and the wind is against you. According to today’s story, the disciples were instructed by Jesus to take a boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, with the unspoken understanding that when they got to the other side, Jesus would join them.
By the time dawn broke and the next day began, the disciples were weary and worn out. The night had been too long; they couldn’t sleep—all night the boat was battered by the waves, keeping them alert and awake. That’s when Jesus appeared from afar like a “ghost,” walking towards these exhausted disciples. They had been the ones thinking about Jesus all night, wondering whether and even how he could make it to the land, and when he would be able to join them—two days later, three days later, a week later? But the vision of Jesus walking towards them could not have been a comforting sight, because just imagine: though the night had passed, they were still in the middle of the lake.
In our lives and in church ministry, there are those moments and journeys in which we have to evolve and encounter travelling in the dark—even in a single boat holding twelve disciples—just like the disciples in today’s story. There are moments and nighttime journeys that require us, call us, to evolve, because just saying “to respond” cannot match the pressure. In today’s story, Jesus tells the disciples to go—or, to bring out the force of the original Greek, Jesus pressures the disciples (the Greek verb, anankazō, means “to compel”). There’s this pressure—it sounds a bit harder, and it is—for his followers to cross the Sea of Galilee that night without certainty. Without him. The disciples may well have asked themselves that night—I hope at least Peter did—wondering or even deeply agonizing over why Jesus sent them off alone while he stayed to pray. Why not journey together, asking the disciples to wait and stay in a nearby village or town while he went up the mountain to pray? Why send them alone? Hadn’t Jesus become their family, and hadn’t they become Jesus’ own family?
Today’s story, Jesus walking on water, is ultimately and deeply about trusting. This story’s teaching point, its peak, does not lie in our believing the impossible, the nature-defying act of walking on water. I would not tell my kids this story without detailed annotation—the purpose of this story is not to literally follow what it says. It is probably the one thing in the Bible we would single out as an example of not asking ourselves, “What would Jesus do?” This story’s invitation for people to hear more is also not about ridiculously mimicking or comically depicting Peter, as if he were a naive child, a reckless but enthusiastic fool who believed he could follow whatever his beloved teacher did, not knowing his human limits. In that telling, after a few steps, he immediately sank into the water because he doubted for one second, called to Jesus in panic, “Save me!” and was rescued by Jesus, only to hear him say, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Read this story with me, looking for the lines in which the warm heart of God is vivid, as if not only Peter’s but Jesus’ own heartbeat could be heard. Let us look for the most dramatic and transformative moment, the moment that truly helps the listener understand what this story is really about—not Jesus’ strange instruction for the disciples to go alone before him, not the terror of the night, not the disciples shrouded in darkness and their boat being tossed about like a cork, and not Peter’s panic.
It is when God reveals who God is—the one who says, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” Just a few verses earlier, Jesus said to the disciples, who were terrified to see someone who looked like a “ghost” walking on the water, “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.” Today’s story is not really about the act of Jesus walking on water itself; Rather, its central meaning lies in these words: “In the morning Jesus came walking towards the disciples.” It’s about “I am coming to you. I am trustworthy.” And only Peter stepped up and evolved to meet Jesus’ call—“Trust me. Trust who I am, this true human”—with his own response: “I trust that you are my beloved teacher, Lord. Jesus, command me to come to you.” Could you hear Peter’s voice? Could you feel his heart beginning to beat faster—the rapid heartbeat a person feels before an impossible quest? As I read it, what Peter says is not really, “I’ll show you I can do anything to prove I have faith in you, even walking on water.” What Peter tells Jesus is not about the command to walk on the water, but “Jesus, command me to come to you.”
And yet, this story’s most incredible part is still to come in the next verses: “But when Peter 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.” Peter’s act of love - “Jesus, command me to come to you; I come to you”—is answered by Jesus’ response to the sinking Peter: “Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him.” I can visualize Jesus; he’s not a cold master at all. I can visualize Jesus reaching out his hand, catching Peter, and bringing him to his side.
When you and I are companions—this community, 200 people on Sunday morning, nighttime boat travellers— we feel the smallness of our craft, yet we will sail to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, though tossed and battered. And when we cannot find a signal of where and how the Spirit is leading in this incredible moment, shrouded in uncertainty just like the darkness of that stormy night—we are, then, in the story of today’s Gospel. We become the actors taking the roles of Peter and the disciples and Jesus, not the ghost but the true human. Today’s story is really about how we, together and as disciples, evolve into trusting and how trusting transforms us.
The Board has called two Congregational Meetings, as many of you found out this weekend, scheduled for October 18th and 25th in place of services. Last Sunday, I shared with you about my spiritual journey—the nighttime travel I had with Jesus—discovering self-awareness, the importance of deeply aligning with the gifts of our leaders and all the people I truly care for and love, and leadership as a gift given and granted by the community. My nighttime travel with Jesus continues, and I am called by God’s power, like a storm, to be on the boat with you—the boat of our Congregational journey. What will it take for us to find God’s warm heart in the middle of the lake, to find Jesus, not a ghost but a “true human,” then, in the morning, calling to our Beloved Teacher in our prayers, like Peter: “Jesus, command us to come to you on the water”?
Faith is not about doing the impossible but trusting that God is right there, that God is calling us, ever new, never the same, and that together we evolve to match the pressure Jesus brings for us to meet the impossible.
In the calm, in our prayers, we will hear, “Take heart, friends. It is I. Do not be afraid.”
Meanwhile, as true humans, we will—and I will, with you—say to Jesus, “Holy One, command us to come to you on the water.” We doubt, we may even fall, but we cannot sink when we trust that God will reach out with God’s warm heart and love and catch us. We will hear God’s heart as our own, and our own as God’s, loving us, trusting us.
So how do we build that unsinking trust?
In the Harvard Business Review, Harvard Business School professor Frances X. Frei explains that trust is the key to the gift of empowering leadership, and that trust has three core drivers: authenticity, logic, and empathy. People tend to trust you when they believe they are interacting with the real you (authenticity), when they have faith in your judgement and competence (logic), and when they feel that you care about them and understand their concerns and listen to learn about them (empathy). When trust is lost, it can almost always be traced back to a breakdown in one of these three elements.
I would love the opportunity and privilege to share about my journey of trusting—not only giving my trust and trusting others, but especially learning more intentionally, with deepening and greater self-awareness, about how I am trusted. How have I interacted with you as my real self—sharing what I really think, what I really feel, and what my truest gifts are—to meet you deeply in your own authenticity? How have I truly done my best to sit with you, hold hands with you, pray and work with you, hear your stories, your concerns and hopes, and learn from them? How have I evolved and taken up the call to become an empowering leader who trusts and is trusted? One thing I know I will consistently demonstrate to our beloved, trusted, and trusting community is my authenticity, which I may not have been able to truly and fully share with each of you because of marginality, difference, and the limited time I have had to truly stay with you, engage with you, and align with you. Authenticity will be my guiding pillar as I journey through the night with Jesus and our community of faith.
Radical honesty builds trust.
Creating an inclusive team, not just a diverse team, builds trust.
I love what Frances X. Frei says, who's queer and trans themselves: Leadership begins not when others trust you but when you trust yourself.
So, will you come and journey on the boat—with trust, and your warm hearts beating fast with challenge and determination, and take these nighttime journeys together? We will make this journey based on our authenticity, empathy, and competence, supported by prayers, songs, reflections, hand in hand, with true concern for one another. With the gifts of our leaders, trusted and faithful, when the day breaks, Broad View United will set sail and get to the other side, with Jesus.
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