1 Kings 19:9–18
Psalm 85:8–13
Romans 10:5–15
Matthew 14:22–33
Once a month I offer a little communion service for the patients and staff of Middleton Village Rehab Center. Yesterday I met a new resident. I’ll call him Rocky, though that wasn’t really his name. When I arrived, Rocky was distressed and kept insisting to the nurse with him that he needed to go back to his room because his sister was waiting for him (though she was not actually in the building). To calm and distract him while we waited for the whole group to gather for worship, we sang “Jesus Loves Me.”
Rocky talked through the song. As we sang, “Jesus loves me this I know,” Rocky said quite loudly, “No, I don’t know that.” We sang, “Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong,” and Rocky announced, “Yeah, strong for other people–not for me. Jesus isn’t doing anything for me.” And so it went through the whole song. His nurse was obviously embarrassed and kept trying to shush him, but after the initial shock, I think the rest of us kind of admired and appreciated his honesty.
We may not all be bold enough to say so in front of other people–particularly in a worship setting, where people supposedly gather because of their faith–but haven’t most of us felt exactly like Rocky at one time or another? Like, on the off chance that Jesus even exists, and maybe even hears the prayers of others, Jesus certainly isn’t looking out for us? Haven’t most of us had a least moments (if not days or weeks or years) of sensing that God has abandoned us?
It is exactly this sense of being alone in the world is that has led our OT prophet Elijah to be hiding in a cave in today’s first reading. I encourage you to go back and read the two or three chapters of 1 Kings preceding today’s reading, because it’s a really, really great story. But just to sum up a little, many Israelites had left the true God to worship an idol called Baal, including King Ahab and his wife Jezebel. Elijah called for a showdown between himself and the four hundred fifty priests of Baal to prove whose God was the true God. The four hundred fifty priests of Baal called for fire to come down from heaven and burn up a sacrifice, but they were unsuccessful. When it was Elijah’s turn, he prayed to God for the same thing, and God triumphed! All the 450 priests of Baal were executed, angering King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, who issued a death warrant for Elijah. That’s why God’s powerful prophet is hiding in a cave, afraid and dejected. He’d seen God act for all the world to see, but when he’s alone, Elijah secretly fears that his life doesn’t matter. He wonders if all his work has been in vain, and worries that no one else in the world stands with him or for him. I can imagine him sitting next to Rocky in Middleton Village and expressing the same contempt and concern.
Today’s Gospel reading is another story about people succumbing to anxiety even after God has done mighty deeds right before their eyes. It was the very evening Jesus fed 5000 men plus women and children in the Gospel story we heard last week. At the end of the day, Jesus was exhausted and depleted. He needed some alone time, time away from the crowds, so he goes up on a mountain to pray, to find rejuvenation and comfort sitting in God’s lap for a bit.
Meanwhile, he sends his disciples across the lake ahead of him. And there is a great storm. The wind, Matthew’s Gospel says, was contrary, so that no matter how the disciples set their sails, their little boat was tossed and buffeted by the waves. And it was dark. They were afraid.
The disciples and Elijah didn’t seem to have trouble believing that God would do signs and wonders for the world at large. But it seems that what both the disciples (esp. Peter) and old Elijah needed was some indication that God was God FOR THEM. Not just for the crowd of 5,000 with their full bellies. Not just for all the priests of Baal. The disciples and Elijah needed to know that God could hear their hearts when they cried, “Lord, save me!” And they needed to be reassured that God not only could do so, but would want to.
Sometimes in the midst of a storm we begin to believe that if God were really present, we wouldn’t be in that predicament. If we really were God’s special people, we would not encounter cruel enemies or violent weather. Elijah seems to think that because he is faithful to God, he shouldn’t be persecuted by the authorities. And the disciples seem to think that if trouble is present, God must not be. And that’s how a person struggling with physical and mental challenges in Middleton, WI, can start to feel. That if Jesus really loved us, we wouldn’t be facing this storm.
And yet, when we turn from our fear to the Scriptures, we find story after story of God in the midst of chaos! From the very first line of Genesis, God is immersed in the chaos. God is with the Israelites as they flee from Egypt. God is with the exiles in Babylon. God is with the widows and orphans. God is ALWAYS where the trouble is. The fact that Elijah didn’t recognize God in the storm and fire on the mountain doesn’t mean God wasn’t there. It just means Elijah didn’t realize God was there until the storm had passed, and he spent some time listening in silence. The fact that the disciples didn’t recognize Jesus through the wind and rain didn’t mean they weren’t seeing Jesus. It just means that they were so scared they couldn’t believe their eyes.
When fear holds us captive, sometimes we see God at work all around the world, but not in our own homes or heart. We can start to imagine God listening to the prayers of our friends, but feeling that our own prayers got stuck in the rafters somewhere. When our faith seems to curl up into a little ball and hide under the couch, and we wish God would come and find us, we can always return to today’s texts.
Here we can see again that God is always where we are—esp. when there’s trouble! Where else would God be? Twice God asks Elijah, “What are you doing here?” and twice Elijah whines about being alone, somehow overlooking the fact that God had to be there in order to ask the question. In a similar vein, Jesus knows that his disciples are alone on a tumultuous sea in the dark, and so sets out to be with them. It is how God operates. Wherever there is trouble, God is there, though, like the disciples, we don’t always recognize God in those panic-filled moments.
Hearing his friends in distress, Jesus calls out to them, “Take heart; it is I; do not be afraid.” Could there be a sweeter sound? It’s even more beautiful when we realize that the language Jesus uses to say, “It is I” is the same structure as God once used to call out from a burning bush to a terrified Moses. On that occasion, Moses asks the flaming image of God what name he should call God, and God answers, “I am who I am,” or “I will be who I will be,” or “I am the wholeness and completeness of God, the very Godness of God.” Jesus echoes this identity claim to other frightened followers here on this dark and windy sea: “It is I. Don’t be afraid.” And he walks toward them.
Perhaps like Peter, we jump at the sound of Jesus’ voice, and leap in the direction of the call. Or perhaps, like the others, we cower in the boat and watch what happens next. After all, how do we know for sure that the presence we feel is God’s presence? Though Jesus assured the disciples of his identity as the eternal God, Peter has to double-check. “If it really is you, invite me out there with you,” he calls. And Jesus does not chastise him for being a smart-aleck, or for doubting. Instead, Jesus calls out to him, “Come.” Jesus can take it when we are anxious and unsure. Jesus will not punish us for doubting and needing more assurance. I mentioned that to Rocky at Middleton Village yesterday. I wanted him to remember that Jesus extends his hands and invites us to trust, and that even when we have a hard time with that assurance, Jesus won’t let us down.
Like many of us, Peter starts out well enough. With his eyes on Jesus, he is able to walk smoothly over stormy seas. But then he glances down. We don’t know what exactly prompts this, but we’re told that then he begins to sink. It seems to me that there are two equally plausible reasons for this.
One possibility is that Peter forgets about Jesus and starts to think to himself, “I can’t believe I’m doing this! I shouldn’t be able to do this! I am a poor, sinful person, not very well-educated or well-mannered. I’m no one special. Why should Jesus empower me to do this amazing thing?” It is possible that when he forgot God’s baptismal promise, “You are my beloved child, with you I am well pleased,” he began to sink into despair.
Or maybe Peter thought THIS, as he looked down at his feet, carefully skimming the water: “Hey! Look at me! I can do this! I am powerful and strong, and I can do this!” And as his heart and mind filled with pride, he might have lost sight of the fact that it was Jesus who was keeping him afloat, and not his own righteousness or good intentions or faith.
Either way, we’ve been there. Sometimes we have too little trust that God has made us into new creations, and that God fills us with the Holy Spirit, enabling us to do great things through Christ. And sometimes we have too much pride in our own goodness so that we forget that it is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that we can accomplish any good thing. None of us has a faith that is unshakable or a history that is blameless. Not one of us is pure enough to walk on water, to fix all that is wrong in the world, or even in our own families or our own lives. We need God to reach out to us and grab us when we start to fall.
The good news is this, my friends: that’s what God does! God is within us when we lack courage, and ahead of us when we fear the future. God continually comes to us in the storms and upholds us, even when we don’t feel it. The reassurance that God is always with us is what gives us the courage to follow where Jesus leads—to radically embrace the poor, to give hope to the sick and the sad, to welcome the rejects and the outcasts, to lift up those who feel weighted down. Following Jesus means walking out into the midst of chaos, because it is where there are storms that God most wants to be. There is no Biblical promise that believing in God and following God’s call will keep us safe.
Maybe there won’t be a King Ahab hunting us for our lives, but maybe we’ll receive a call that is equally frightening for us—a call to be reconciled with someone we distrust or fear, a call to explore a new and terrifying ministry, a call to address painful life choices or family history, a call to alter something that is comfortable and familiar, though no longer helpful. God may call us to something so terrifying that we find ourselves shouting along with Peter, “Lord, save me!”
And this is the Good News, my friends: God has. God does. God is always coming to us, right where we are! God is with us in our caves. God is with us in our boats. God is with us in our quiet places when we feel all alone. Where else would God be? Like Elijah, we might not hear God’s message right away. Like Peter, we might lose our footing. But in the tempests and in the stillness, in the water and the wine, in our companions and in our callings, Jesus continually whispers to us, “Take courage; it is I. Don’t be afraid.”
~ Pastor Susan Schneider
Trinity Lutheran Church 