August 27, 2006

“Have You Stopped Trusting?”

Matthew 14:22-33

In the Chapel at the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, there’s a magnificent stained glass window that portrays the disciple Peter sinking beneath the waves and crying out to Jesus, “Lord, save me!” A friend and colleague said that as he sat late one afternoon in that Chapel looking at the window, he could almost hear the words of the English poet, Francis Thompson:

Lift your head and hark,

what sounds are in the dark;

For his feet are coming to thee on the waters.

How much like Peter we are—a bundle of contradictions and uncertain responses. Faith and doubt, trust and suspicion, bold courage and cowardly fear, love and self-indulgence, confidence and self-despising—all battle inside of us and we’re never quite sure which will win out, especially when the storms of life break upon us. Like Peter, we’re ready at one moment to get out of the boat, get our feet wet and trust Jesus enough to walk to him on the water. The next moment, though, we let our fears and doubts overcome us and cry out as Peter did, “Lord, save me!” Moreover, how many times we hear Jesus saying to us, even as he said to Peter, “You of little faith, why did you doubt? When did you stop trusting me?”

The lack of trust or faith among us accounts, in part, for the upheavals and brokenness in our world today. When we lose our basic sense of trust, life becomes shallow, relationships are superficial, and enormous social problems bewilder us. Faith is the necessary precondition of a meaningful life, and so let’s allow this morning’s reading from the Bible to clear up some things about faith for us.

First, notice that faith or trust doesn’t mean easy. I suppose that if ever a group of men had a right to expect a nice, smooth, safe and comfortable voyage, it was the disciples of Jesus. They had just witnessed the power of their Lord in the miracle that fed five thousand men (not counting the women and children), and now he had told them to go on ahead to the other side of the lake while he gave the benediction. It seems logical that the men who got into the boat and put out on the lake might assume that it would be an easy, uneventful trip.

Nevertheless, we sometimes forget that obedience doesn’t always mean “easy,” and neither does trust. Faith makes things possible, but not necessarily easy. How many times, after having obeyed God, after we’ve done our best and things are still difficult for us, do we say, “What did I do wrong, Lord? I was so sure this was your will. Why am I having all this trouble?”

It was that way for Jesus’ disciples. He’d told them to go over to the other side of the lake, and they were on their way. However, suddenly they’re aware that a storm is upon them in full, frightening fury! Mark’s Gospel records this same story, and he writes that they “were straining at the oars against an adverse wind.” They’re fighting a losing battle with the wind and waves, and they know it. We can easily imagine that they’re at the point of giving up. Add to this the disappointment. I mean, Jesus had told them to go on ahead. So, why the storm, this trouble, this awful danger? Isn’t that a familiar question? In the midst of the storms we encounter in life, don’t we find ourselves asking, “Why me, Lord? What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Well, things are pretty bad for the disciples of Jesus. At least they think it can’t get any worse, and then it does! From one of them comes the cry, “It’s a ghost!” And every eye strains through the darkness of the early morning, across the wild sea, and they see it too—coming through the blackness, right over the top of the waves, a figure wearing a white robe, approaching them; nearer and nearer. The terror is almost unbearable and it’s no wonder Matthew reports, “And they cried out in fear.”

Now these men weren’t cowards, but like everyone else in that ancient world, they believed in ghosts. Now, perhaps, they’re rowing with all their might, trying not so much to escape the violence of the storm but to get away from this “thing” that keeps coming toward them. And then, above the roar of the wind and the crashing sea, they hear it, a voice like sweet music; unbelievably gentle and comforting and, yes, even familiar—the voice of the Lord and he’s saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Oh yes, trust and faith do not mean easy.

The second thing we see in this reading is that faith means we’re never to be alone again. With the sound of Jesus’ voice, the storm no longer holds terror for the disciples, for the storm in their hearts is now stilled.

As Jesus came to these men long ago, so he comes to us today. We’re not alone when the crises of life are upon us. The Bible doesn’t say that if we have faith life will be easy. It doesn’t say that if we trust God we will not encounter storms. But it does say, over and over and over again, that Christ will be with us and we will never be alone again! It was E. Stanley Jones who said, “Christ is always closest when the cross is the heaviest.” Trusting faith means that we’re never to be alone again!

So the disciples have all fear removed from them—for the time being. It’s Jesus, not a ghost. And now Peter, in particular, really begins to put his faith—his trust—to work, for as we continue in this reading, we see that faith and trust always believe the impossible.

I’m sure you’ve discovered that anytime you try to believe the impossible, the unusual, and the difficult, there will always be those who think you’re crazy! This is because we’ve been conditioned to believe only what we can see, what we can understand, what we can explain, what we can objectively prove. “Seeing is believing.” That’s what Thomas the disciple thought, you remember, and that’s the saying to which most people cling. We’re also conditioned by our problems and circumstances to think small, defeated, thoughts—to give up much too easily. But those who trust God with their living and their dying claim along with the writer of Hebrews that “we are not among those who shrink back and so are lost, but among those who have faith and so are saved.” So when things look impossible, faith encourages us not to “throw in the towel,” not to give up.

But back to those disciples in the boat. Peter, by faith and trust, thinks he will try the impossible. He answers Jesus by saying, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus replies, “Come.” One simple, little word—“come”—but it encompassed a universe of hope and help. It said, “You can do the impossible, Peter.”

Now, no matter what happens next, we have to give Peter a lot of credit for at least having enough trust to try. Remember that this is Peter the fisherman—not someone like Matthew the tax collector, who might not know anything about large bodies of water. Experience has taught Peter that you can float a boat on the sea, you can catch fish from the sea, you can swim in the sea, but you can’t walk on the sea!

But, Peter got out of the boat. See him as he steps over the side and attempts to take that first step on something that has never in his whole life given him any kind of support for walking!

Have I told you the story about a man who took his first airplane ride? He really didn’t want to go at all, but was finally persuaded to try it. Fearfully he got in the plane. The pilot took off, circled the field, and returned safely. Someone asked the uneasy rider, “How did you like it?” The man replied, “I’ll tell you this much. I never did put my full weight down in that thing!”

You can be sure the doubters were at work on that day long ago. “Peter, what are you doing? You can’t walk on water!” But with the optimism of faith and trust in the God of the impossible, Peter finds himself walking on the water! No matter what else we remember about this reading, we have to keep this in mind: faith believed the impossible.

Finally, a most important aspect of trust, one that becomes clear in this reading, is that faith tries again! Peter did walk on water, for a while—but then he sank. He was doing fine until, like us, he started looking at other things around him—“but when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’”

Perhaps Peter shouldn’t have allowed himself to be distracted, but he did. We do the same. Although Jesus chastised Peter for it, he didn’t desert him in his failure. Did you ever ask yourself, “How did Peter get back into the boat?” I know the Gospel writers don’t spell it out exactly, but isn’t it likely, and more in keeping with the spirit of Christ, that Jesus simply said, “Peter, take hold of my hand,” and together they walked back to the boat?

Faith always gives us another chance. We don’t learn all about trust in one experience. It’s crisis-by-crisis, day by day, time after time. “Peter, don’t let it get to you. You don’t have to walk all the way to shore. Just back to the boat. Just one step at a time. The Lord has hold of your hand. You’re not alone, you can make it!” And he did! The God of the Second Chance helps us to try again.

Faith that trusts understands that if God doesn‘t change the problem, then God changes us to make us adequate for the situation. Faith that trusts knows that, in God, any situation will be all right. Faith that trusts is not foolishness, nor a fantasy, nor a refuge for the feeble-minded, nor a figment of an overworked imagination. Faith that trusts makes us human, reveals our glory, redeems our relationships and draws us closer to God.

Let me close with this story:

There’s a painting that shows Satan at a chessboard with a young man. The Deceiver has just made his move and the young man’s face is filled with defeat and despair as his King is apparently checkmated.

One day, Paul Morphy, the great chess genius, stood looking at that painting. Carefully he studied the positions on the board. Suddenly, Morphy’s face lighted up and he shouted to the young man in the painting, “You still have a move! Don’t give up, you still have a move!”

The good news of God in Jesus Christ is that our Lord and Savior sees our crisis, our cross, our apparently checkmated position in life, and offers us this victorious word: “You still have a move! Trust me! I know it’s not easy, but you’re not alone! Have faith! Believe the impossible! Pray on! Try again! Don’t give up, you still have a move!”

Let us pray: O God of Hope, the turbulent waters of life wear us out. Our arms are sore, our breath gone; we can swim no more. It seems often to be just that moment you choose to invite us to walk on the water, to do the impossible, to go beyond what we think we can do, to risk the unknown, the unfamiliar, the unexpected.

We are, like Peter, humans of little faith. Teach us to learn our limitations so that we will call on your unlimited power. Show us, when we forget, the strength that comes from a right relationship with You, from community, from a helping hand. We are all handicapped by our fear, our lack of faith. Save us, O Lord, from sinking in courage, from drowning in our despair. Give us your hand and we will walk with you, even upon the waters! Amen.