Who Walks on Water?
Jesus from the mountains
Immediately he made the disciples get into a 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 toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, 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 toward 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. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Matthew 14:22-33
In our twice-monthly Estuary conversations, sometimes we talk about things that are hopeful and uplifting. But more often, we talk about something that touches on the chaos of the world from the comfort of our home. This week, we sat around the living room of the manse, six of us gathered from across Wolcott and Craftsbury, coffee and ice water and couches and rocking chairs, looking out onto the piercing beauty of a hot Vermont afternoon in the shade, an oscillating fan on the lowest setting, and discussed the problems of AI, all the ways that it seeps into our digitized lives, what this means for God and religion and the whole thing. Sometimes we have discussed local political issues, broader societal collapse, and other problems facing civilization. Don’t worry, we solved all the problems. And then we stepped outside, and the problems melted away.
Maybe you’ve watched or endlessly scrolled the news, and then you put it down, go outside, and the world’s problems almost seem imaginary again. You could live as if they were not going on. Maybe we have to live as if some of the world’s problems weren’t going on in order for us to go on. That is, I believe, one of the main draws here of rural New England, America’s monastery. Yes, some of our neighbors live in poverty, and there is addiction, but it often stays out of sight if you don’t travel to Morrisville or Newport often. It’s not perfect, but the perfection of God’s creation has been about as well preserved as any state. In fact, so many of our economic problems stem from the fact that it’s so tranquil and beautiful that too many people retire and vacation here. I don’t know about people who grew up here, but people move here to live a bit farther away from the world.
I know when I got here three years ago, I needed to retreat from the world. Having served enough time in Los Angeles and Boston, I felt called to learn how to be a pastor here, and I’m grateful you felt called to teach me. After some intense years, I needed the space to breathe. This is a place where we can all breathe.
There is, of course, a seduction even in the best things in life. The place where we can live in peaceful solitude can be lonely. The place where we need to go to retreat can easily turn into an escape, where we can forever stay far, far away from all the problems of the world. You can retreat to a place to be at peace by yourself in the mountains, and then it’s not long until you want to live life on one long retreat.
The disciples probably couldn’t fully tell you why they started following this man Jesus. Maybe for some of these men who worked long hours day in and day out just to survive, maybe they thought they could learn how to breathe in a breathless world. They left their boats and their tax-collecting stations behind to sit at the feet of the one who they knew had more where this life came from.
But here they were on the boat again, because Jesus told them that’s what they needed to do. Thanks, Jesus. And by the way, where was he? He was on a retreat, at peace by himself in the mountains, in prayer. The crowds had been hounding him for healing, for teaching, for food, for all of himself. He had compassion for them all, but he also had a fuel tank. He needed to breathe too. And so he breathed. And he prayed. And he knew that the disciples were in a storm so bad that even a dozen veteran fishermen were terrified.
Eventually, he comes to them, and they are even more freaked out. If you were off the coast of Maine caught in a storm that scared even the lobster fishermen, and then suddenly a guy on water barreling your direction like maybe the angel of death himself coming to laugh in your face, yeah, we’d all be freaked out. This was not what they signed up in becoming Jesus followers! They signed up for the peace of Christ that they felt from this man, for the compassion he showed, for his authoritative teaching that made them finally see the Word of God clearly and with all the puzzle pieces fit, but now here on the boat, the puzzle pieces were scattered all across the deck. There was no time for Bible study or theological lessons, this was life and death.
“Take heart,” he said, “It is I. Do not be afraid.” Finally! There it is, Christ’s comfort. Or… just exactly what a ghost would say when he’s trying to trick you. See, Peter’s too smart to be duped, you’ve got to test the spirits out there in the real world. “Okay ‘Lord,’ if it’s you, tell me to walk on water, and I’ll do it.” “Okay, come on then.” And of course we know he does, and for a few moments, he has been conscripted into one of Jesus’ miracles again, just as he and the twelve helped feed the 5000, doing the impossible. But like getting distracted by your phone in the middle of a tranquil moment, just a couple of soggy footsteps later, he can’t help but notice the strength of the wind. And Peter remembers who he really is, just a guy, a fool, and what was he doing here anyway? “Save me, Jesus.” And Jesus immediately does, then he ribs him a bit about he of little faith. And the rest of them go wow, okay, that is not a ghost. That is the son of God.
But we aren’t capital-T The Son of God. So who are we? Who are you? Where are you? Are you in the crowd that Jesus just fed for a meal, who’s heard a little bit about this guy second-hand, tasted a bit of his bread, thought it was good, but you’ve got a life to get back to? Are you one of those who has been following Jesus around for a while, learning more, but not really having gone deeper? Are you quite dedicated, actually, in church all the time, maybe read your Bible regularly, and ready to fish? Are you on the shore away from the problems of the world, or are you diligently picking up the oars every week and facing storms? Are you trying to walk on water just like he did? Does your answer depend on the day?
I’m not like Jesus, but I do know how to go into the mountains to be by myself and with God. I know how to retreat. But I’m not nearly as good as Jesus at knowing when to come back down off the mountain. I have been in boats in storms, heck, that’s why I like the mountains. When people have been nasty and difficult, I’d rather just live and let live, because if you get involved in people problems, the problem is there’s people.
But we all know there are people who are still in storms right now. And we know, deep down, that the Christian life is not one of constant retreat. And we know this because the rhythm of Christ took a breath in, and then breathed himself back out to go be with us in our storms. And if you have gotten to the other side of a storm while clinging onto the Christ you thought had abandoned you, and you put your feet back on the ground, yes, you know too that he is the son of God, and you don’t need a preacher to tell you.
But once you’ve made it back to the shore…when do you go back?
Jesus will call you back out into the storms, out of your solitude and your tranquility, and have something for you to do. It turns out that our Estuary conversations have not fixed all the world’s problems. In fact, it may have just made some of us more aware of the storms that are out there. So when do you go back out?
Maybe you think your boat days are done. You may be at the care center or just in your own private home to retire, hoping to just wait until the resurrection and breathe. But I know you still have something God is calling you to do. In the ancient world, the sea represented the spiritual life itself, full of dangers that no man could traverse alone. You could stay at shore for your own peace or sail for your own glory, but us Christians have a different problem: we know the peace and love of Christ in the simple good life, but we know that our peace is not to be hoarded. There are waters between you and someone who could use your love today. Some of you have been trying to address the biggest political and poverty problems that face not just our region but our country. Some of you work hard for a million volunteer organizations. Some of you have been working hard for your family in self-giving love. Maybe your working days are done, but you still have the ability to share the love of Christ, a smile to let someone know you are happy to see them when they may not have many people left who are still always happy to see them. But maybe you have actually found ways to keep yourself endlessly busy and you need to breathe. Maybe the idea of doing anything more might as well be asking you to walk on water.
Yes, I believe we should trust Jesus enough to follow his example and walk to where people need us. You can trust and believe that he is recruiting you to participate in yet another of his miracles. But this might all seem like so much that you never want to get started. It’s a beautiful summer out there.
So let me tell you some better news: you are not Jesus. The weight of the world is not on you. It is he who died and was resurrected that we all might live. As our other reading said today, “Do not say in your heart, ‘Who will ascend into heaven?’ (that is, to bring Christ down), or ‘Who will descend into the abyss?’ (that is, to bring Christ up from the dead),” but, “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart.” (Rom 10:8-9) Always. Scripture shows us he’s not just walking on water, but he’s in the boat with us, so we need not walk on water.
It was Peter’s idea, after all, to want to walk on water to prove it’s Jesus. Jesus doesn’t ask him to do that. Jesus isn’t asking you to walk on water or raise him from the dead. Christ is the one who first comes down off the mountain to you. He doesn’t “meet you halfway.” He comes to you all the way, including in this very breath of this very moment. And then he sends us back out into the storm, not because we have proven our love for him, but because he loves us. Not because we trust him, but because he entrusts us, even sinners like us, to be his hands and feet to anyone in a storm. And we in the church are all in his boat together.
How will we know that we won’t just sink in the water again? You won’t know that. You can’t know that. You probably will sink again. It’s a stormy world out there. But before you even know where he is, it is Christ who is first walking to you. He isn’t a ghost. He has a hand; you can grab it. He’s got you. He’s in your breath and in your heart. Amen.
