Pentecost 11, Gospel Matthew 14:22-33
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,[a] 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.”
My feet are dangling over the edge of the dock rejoicing in the caress of cool water after 10 miles of Berkshire Mountain trail. I’m so sweaty, hot, covered in deet and bug bites that I would gladly jump out of my own skin… except my skin seems to be stuck on me. No escaping myself, I suppose. This lifelong journey seems to be an immersion course on living with myself and delighting in my own presence. I’m finally beginning to believe it’s a pass/pass course – no grades, no failure.
There are others on the dock. We are all weary, dirty, bug bitten, and wondering if we should step off solid ground and trust the water to welcome us kindly. There is no storm threatening our dock, instead the air hangs heavy and humid like a blanket of warmth. Some of us are on the Appalachian Trail for a weeklong section, others left Georgia in April. The storm isn’t outside of us, it is battering us from the inside. Our souls are turning daily into the waves and wind of challenge and change that will shape us while we are in the mountains. On the outside, you can see the ‘hiker hobble’ as we struggle to walk first thing in the morning.
The little fish have discovered my feet soaking in Goose Neck Pond. They dart and nibble at my skin causing me to jump in surprise at their powerful fish lips. I want to get in so badly, but the rest of my body has become a cautious temperature gauge. Is this water going to soothe my bones or take my breath away? I know I need to stop thinking about it and just jump in… but fear has chained me to the dock.
Fear is an incredibly powerful force in my body. Fear can keep me frozen in place, or fear will light me up with enough adrenaline to fight a bear. Fear will sprout wings from my back to fly far away, or fear has taught me to ignore all my feelings of discomfort and rub affectionately against the very danger that is stopping my heart. Fear can hijack me so fast that I don’t even realize I’ve abandoned the precious present moment.
Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it is important to be afraid. There are things worth fighting for or running from. But most of the time, fear is creating mountains when I only need to step over a molehill. Fear has the amazing ability to erase my impulse to have faith and trust the next step. Fear paints everything the color of danger and I begin to grasp and clutch and gasp for control and strength to save myself. My deepest fear is the absolute failure to live a meaningful life and suffer the erasure of annihilation. Those existential waters are deep and dark and in that ocean of loss, I disappear forever.
“Take heart,” Jesus calls out. “It is I; do not be afraid.”
The storm inside is blowing, the water is dark and unsteady. I don’t know how deep it goes or who will look for me if I fall beneath the surface. I’m pretty sure there is something larger than a minnow sucking at my toes.
“It is I… Εγώ είμι.” Jesus responds to my frightened cries with the very name of God. Do not be afraid, I AM here with you…
I AM breathing over the waters of creation, calling life into being.
I AM inviting humans to remove their shoes and ground themselves on holy earth before divine fire.
I AM claiming you my beloved in the waters of baptism.
I AM here in your stormy soul.
Because I AM, you are here also, in the precious present moment.
Because I AM, you are never annihilated.
I AM love, more powerful than fear.
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.”
I slid off the edge of the dock and felt the cradle of creation rising up to meet me. The water was refreshingly cool even as my breath caught with the involuntary muscle constriction. Breathe, I exhaled, do not be afraid. My body stretched out to swim and gravity lost her grip on me. I floated in the arms of creation and felt the effortless surrender that comes when I stop trying to save myself. On land, surrender seems too close to failure… but in God’s realm, surrender is the first step of faith. Remember, this class called life is pass/pass. You cannot fail.
I wonder what scary storms are blowing through your life?
I wonder where you are being invited to surrender and step out into the water?
I wonder how your fear imprisons you?
I pray that we might practice sliding off the dock and trust that God will catch us.
