Out of the Boat
Romans 10: 5-15; Matthew 14: 22-33
11-9-08; FPC
Driving along the road, sometimes the sky unexpectedly turns gray. The winds
pick up speed. Raindrops begin to
pelt the windshield.
As the car slows, the heart begins to race.
The grip on the steering wheel becomes tighter.
Fear makes an appearance.
Fear of the unknown-how much worse will it become?
Fear of the known-this is a dangerous storm.
Like so many of the storms we endure, the one that arose on the Sea of Galilee
that night came unexpectedly. What
started out as a routine trip across the sea becomes a frightening, harrowing
experience for the disciples. Their
fear worsens when Jesus appears, walking on the water.
They fail to recognize Jesus.
“Only a ghost could come to us in such a way”, they must have thought.
As the disciples’ hearts pound against their chests, Jesus speaks:
“Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
With the winds howling and waves crashing against him, Peter hears Jesus’
command, “Come”.
Immediately, he accepts the risk of leaving the familiar for the unfamiliar, the
known for the unknown.
As a fisherman, Peter knew the dangers of the sea.
He could have stayed in the boat. But
Peter was not the complacent type.
He wanted something more. Jesus was
calling him to do something more, something risky, yes, but also something out
of which Peter would glimpse God’s splendid, redemptive love. “Come”, Jesus
said. “Come”.
After a few steps, Peter accomplishes what Jesus has commanded.
But then, the waves and the winds began
to distract his faith. Fear set in.
At the age of nine or ten months, babies begin the process of learning to walk.
They hold onto a table or the sofa at first, then let go.
They take a step or two. Just
as they begin to trust in their ability to walk, they look around and realize
that nothing is holding them up.
Fear seeps in. Their legs tighten up
and they wobble and then fall.
At first, Peter trusts and believes he can walk on water.
But his belief grows weak.
Like a baby learning to walk, he takes a few steps and then falls.
He falls into the deep, choppy waters where he flails his arms in a fit
of distress. “Lord, save me!”
With the water up to his nostrils, on the verge of death, Peter’s risk taking
venture has ended in apparent disaster.
But because of Peter’s willingness to get his feet wet, he has an intimate
experience with the Savior. Like a
loving parent who lifts a fallen child and sets her on her feet again, Jesus
reaches out his hand and saves Peter.
Afterwards, Jesus chides Peter, not for his fear, but for his lack of faith.
Peter’s doubts have caused his fear to paralyze him.
In 1936, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was teaching theology in Berlin and he publicly
criticized Hitler and his reign of terror.
After the government forbade him to teach, Bonhoeffer started an
underground seminary and continued writing.
He was dismayed at how easily the Christians around him compromised with
the Nazi party. It seemed to him
that many Christians saw faith as a stroll in the park.
So, in 1937, Bonhoeffer wrote a book called The Cost of Discipleship.
In it, he argued that faith is not faith unless it leads you to risk
something which can be very frightening.
Isn’t that how faith matures? Faith
grows through our response to Christ’s invitation “to come”, to leave the boat
and step onto the waters of discipleship even when the fears, the risks and cost
are great!
Popular writer Max Lucado tells the story about spending a Labor Day weekend
just outside of Miami, Florida.
While the rest of the nation was enjoying Labor Day activities, residents
on the South Florida coast watched Hurricane David howling through the Caribbean
Sea.
As people in the area anticipated the arrival of the storm, windows were
boarded up, canned foods were purchased and flashlights were tested
On the Miami River, Lucado and some of his friends were trying to secure
their houseboat. With thick rope,
they tied the boat to some trees; they tied the boat to itself; they tied the
boat to any and everything. When the
task was completed, it looked as though the boat had
been caught in a spider’s web.
Then, a man named Phil appeared on the scene.
Phil knew boats. He was born
wearing a suntan and dock-siders. He
spoke the language and he knew the knots.
He also understood hurricanes.
Feeling sorry for the ignorant men, he began to give some advice.
“Tie her to the land and you’ll regret it.
Those trees are gonna get eaten alive by the ‘cane.
Your only hope is to anchor deep.”[1]
I understand the point Lucado is trying to make. “Anchor your life deep
in the pages of the bible; read over and over the references to God’s strength
and find refuge.” “As you fear
whatever in the world invokes a sense of fear, anchor your life in the church,
find shelter and comfort in the midst of the congregation.”
I cannot disagree with any of that.
He is offering sound and wise counsel.
But if I understand the text, the church is called not to coddle itself
in a port of safety, but to venture into those places of the world that are
most dangerous.
The church is summoned, not to seek to live in a risk-free zone, but to
assume risks; to raise its anchor of self-sufficiency and, in trust, go places
where the waters are choppy and unsettling.
Where are you being called? What
risks are you taking for the sake of Christ?
To give to Christ, not leftover goods, but the first fruits of your labor, to
step onto the waters of genuine Christian stewardship even though you may be
living on a shoe string budget.
To teach Sunday school or engage in some ministry of the church even though the
mere thought of doing so makes you nervous.
To help someone in deep need, even though you fear it will consume your time.
“Come”, Jesus said to Peter.
“Come” Jesus says to us.
Get out of the boat and try, just try to walk on water.