Into the Waves
Proper 12
Fr. Tim Nunez
May my spoken word be true to God’s written word and bring us all closer to the living word, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
We were at Cocoa Beach last week, the same spot where we’ve gone for the last 20 years. It’s great to spend time on the beach, where the land meets the water. You smell the salt air, feel the sand and the breeze, and hear the sound of waves rolling into the shore as they have from the beginning.
I’ve been to that stretch of beach my whole life and that spot the last twenty years in a row. The wind has always come out of the east, a sea breeze, and there are usually enough waves to at least boogie-board or body surf.
That’s a lot of fun. But it can also be dangerous when the waves are big, or there are rip tides. You all get that. And it is a metaphor for life. The land is stable, orderly. The water is at once inviting, yet chaotic; extremely powerful and potentially dangerous. And there are other risks. There are always sharks, maybe jellyfish, maybe a crab pinches your toe.
We live on the edge of order and chaos and navigating that ever-shifting overlap between the two is a primary part of growing up. How deep and how quickly we go varies. Some people are more adventurous than others, but the risks are serious.
This year the beach was different. This year the wind came from the west all week. The water was clear, blue, cool and very calm. The biggest waves were barely above my knees. That was perfect for our grandchildren, the three who are ages 2 and 4, to tests the waters.
Since it was so calm, their parents took them out into chest-deep water right away. The kids had life vests on just to be extra careful, but even being held, the vastness of the water and gentle rolling of the minimal swells made them uncomfortable. Chaos. So, they went back to the beach. Order. And then what do you suppose they did?
They did make some sand castles and looked for shells. But the biggest fun was when their parents coaxed them into a game of standing ankle-deep in the water and running like mad when the little waves rolled at them. Day after day, that was the game. Why is that so fun? Because they were playing on the edge of control and chaos, going as far as they dared, retreating to safety when the rougher water came. They never tired of it, and I’ve never tired of it. I still like to play in the waves if there are any.
With that in mind, let’s join these disciples. The Sea of Galilee is a big lake, bigger than Lake Kissimmee but smaller than Lake Okeechobee. You can easily see across it. But water is powerful. Rough seas and high winds are dangerous. Several of the disciples are fishermen by trade, and they fished with nets so the sides of the boat are designed for ease of pulling in nets, which means big waves are a real problem.
Jesus made them get into the boat. He made them. He sent them from the order of the land into the chaos of the sea. He knew the sea would be rough and the wind would be against them. There would be real danger, life-threatening danger.
We tend to think of our faith a lot in terms of the refuge and comfort we find in Jesus. He is our refuge from the difficulties the world and life inflict. We pray a lot for healing. We look to the Lord and his Word for guidance in the way we should live good and moral lives.
But Christian faith is also an adventure. Jesus doesn’t leave us on the shore, in comfort and stability. He sends us out into the deep water, into chaos. When we say Jesus is Lord, we submit ourselves to his direction, whatever that may be.
But he does not leave us alone. No matter how rough the seas get, nothing can prevent him from coming to us.
When Jesus comes to them in the midst of the storm and says, “It is I,” that’s a translation that makes sense with the syntax and context. The literal translation would be, “I am.”
When Moses was on Mount Sinai and encountered God in the burning bush, he asked what name he should use when he told the people. God said I am. The Hebrew for I am, roughly translated Yahweh, was unspeakable for the Jews.
On the night of his trial, when Caiaphas asked Jesus if he was the Messiah, Jesus answered, “I am,” at which point Caiaphas tore his garments, shouted “Blasphemy” and said “That’s all the evidence we need!” It would be blasphemy, except it is true. Jesus has come to bring his Kingdom, his order, to the chaotic evil of this world. Jesus drives out fear and brings peace because of who he is.
We are to put ourselves in the boat. Look up. The ceiling of this church is designed to remind us that we are in the boat. Clearly we are like the disciples, maybe like Peter at times. We can see Christ. But maybe he’s a little fuzzy to us. Maybe unbelievable. It can be hard to understand exactly what and who he is – a ghost, a spirit, a memory, a vision? Is he real and can he really affect my life today? Is his promise sure for tomorrow? Yes, yes and yes, because of who he is.
And God bless Peter. He steps out of the boat on the strength of his own faith. He can see the Lord and he believes. But as he approached Jesus, he begins to slip. His fear and his anxiety drag him down into the water. His faith is not enough.
Which is good, because our faith is not enough either. If Peter were able to walk around on the water on his own, even out of his proclaimed faith, then that would be the standard we’d be shooting for. If I could only be like that.
But he sinks. His faith, the faith of the number one disciple, the Rock, the Head of the Church, was not enough. It wasn’t enough on the water. It wasn’t enough the night before Christ died and the cock crowed three times. The Good News here is Peter is our example. He is the standard we can follow. His faith isn’t enough, could never be enough, so as he sinks, he cries out to Christ “Lord save me!”
It’s one thing to be here, in the boat. It’s quite another to test our faith out there. But within the next hour we all will step out of this boat and into the chaos of the world.
Note that Jesus immediately reached out his hand to Peter. Immediately. He didn’t ask Peter anything. He didn’t demand Peter do anything. First, Jesus saved Peter, he saved him, then he taught him. “Little” faith was enough faith. Do we have enough faith to turn to Jesus, even in our uncertainty, especially in our uncertainty and say those 3 words, “Lord save me!”
Occasionally our little grandchildren would stand and let the receding water suck the sand from around their feet. And a few times one or the other would get distracted and not see a bigger wave coming – just knee-high to me but big enough to potentially knock them down. But daddy or mommy or grandpa would immediately grab a hand and lead them to safety a few feet away. Then back they’d come.
Jesus sends us into adventure. He meets us at our points of need, and even a little faith is enough for him to immediately save us.
AMEN!