Sermon for 8/13/17: Always Walking Toward You

Sermon for Pentecost 10, 8/13/17, Matthew 14: 22-33                                                                                                      

     Some years ago I took a group of middle and senior high teens on a mission trip to do repairs and painting at a Lutheran camp in Wisconsin. We added to that week a different kind of character building activity. With a guide from the camp, we tried rappelling. You may know that sport— it’s a challenging way to go down a cliff. Even with safety measure in place, pushing off a cliff backwards takes major gumption.
     Every one of those teens went down the cliff, all except Emily. She got belted up and hooked up, climbed gingerly over the edge and perched there, her feet secure against the rock wall and her body tightly roped to the line. She stayed in that position, talking about how much she wanted to do this. We coaxed and reassured.
     But after a half hour or so … it was clear she could not push off. We began to say, “It’s OK, Emily. This is not for everyone. Maybe next time.” She wanted so badly to conquer her fear, but this was not to be the day.

    In today’s Gospel story, the opposite happened. Peter was the only one who DID push off the cliff (get out of the boat). It was the other 11 who stayed put.

    Scholars have suggested that Jesus didn’t come out there just for Peter, that he was making a point to all the disciples. He was showing them a miracle for sure, walking on the sea. But to the disciples, this scene may have meant something more. The ancients believed that underneath the raging sea, demons churned and heaved, and the one who could walk across that tempest would be a tamer of demons, trampling them underfoot. Only a god could do that, and Jesus was showing those disciples that he was God indeed—already doing for all of them what Peter would later demand when he said to Jesus, “Prove it to me!”
    Jesus didn't start that drama with Peter, you know. It was Peter’s idea. Peter demands a command—COMMAND me to come to you on the water! But Jesus gives only a quiet invitation—“come.” Thus begins Peter’s walk on the water, only a few seconds long, until the crisis and the dramatic rescue.
    You might call Peter brave and courageous. You might call him a fool, or a grandstander. You might say he sunk because he took his eyes off Jesus. Whatever you think of Peter, Jesus thought he was worth saving.
  
     Of course Peter is scared out of his wits as he starts to sink. But don’t you think the boys in the boat were scared, too?  Even surrounded by their best buds, those guys felt alone, vulnerable, fearful in the worse way. All 12 were scared. All 12 saw Jesus’ power at work. All 12 were worth saving. He came out there for all of them.
     And I think Matthew gave us all 12 to help us SEE ourselves:
     Maybe the ones in the boat regretted not having the same courage Peter had. And perhaps you’ve felt regret when someone else stepped up to take on a challenge you were afraid of.
     Or maybe you’ve been a Peter—the first to get out of the boat and go for a new project. (This fall is the perfect time to do that, my friends! We have so many opportunities for you to jump into. Go for it!)
     This story shows us US—sometimes timid and hanging back, sometimes jumping in with everything we’ve got.

      But I think at its heart, it’s really about Jesus: who he was and is. He said it plainly as he walked toward those 12 men on the water that night—only they were too scared to hear it. And under the layers of translation in our contemporary Bibles, we don’t hear it either. Our translation says, “Do not be afraid. It is I.” But what the Greek really says is not “It is I.” That 3-word statement, ‘it is I,’ is only two Greek words: ‘ego eimi.'  They mean, simply, “I am.”
    Those two words immediately connect Jesus to the Lord of Israel, the God of all creation.  Let me explain…
One of the Old Testament’s most reluctant leaders, Moses, hears a voice from a burning bush, calling him to free the Israelites from bondage in Egypt. Moses is NOT up to this task. He’s a shepherd, and that’s quite enough for him. So he asks, if I DO take on this crazy, dangerous task, who shall I say has sent me?  The voice from the bush responds, say that “I Am” has sent you. God’s own name is “I am.” In today’s story, Jesus claims that same name. And ‘I am’ says it all:  

’I am’ is the the one who fed 5,000 on 5 loaves and 2 fish, showing abundant power and compassion.

‘I am’ is the one who tamed the demons of the sea and saved Peter’s life, proving himself to be God in the flesh.

‘I am’ is the one who just a day or so later would heal the daughter of a foreigner, a Canaanite woman, extending an extravagant love that knows no racial or ethnic boundaries. (Next week’s Gospel story)

‘I am’ is the one who is always walking toward you, always FOR you, always blessing you.

     Looking back on that day on the cliff with the mission trip kids, I can’t picture the ones who went down the cliff. The one I remember is Emily.

     Emily never got up enough courage to go beyond the edge. But Emily did grow and step out in other faithful ways. She married, is now a courageous parent of two cantankerous toddlers, and serves her church as a youth leader. Like most of us, her heart was not ready every time Jesus invited her to step out, but Jesus never quit extending the invitation.

Jesus never quits extending the invitation.

     I don’t know what Jesus might be inviting you to do—maybe to stay in the boat and learn and grow right where you are. Maybe to watch someone else step out, as those 11 guys watched Peter, and to be filled as they all were, with amazement at God’s power. Or perhaps to step out yourself into unknown territory, following the quiet voice that keeps urging you into new challenges. Jesus WILL BE in that new place you stretch toward.
     Or could it be that you find yourself in the choppy water right now, not by choice; and your life seems out of control—lost to overwhelming family responsibilities, looming financial crisis, depression, dependency or some other peril.
     Wherever you find yourself right now, hear this and know it to be true:
Jesus is out there,
    walking toward you,
        taming the demons underfoot,
            stretching out his hand to pull you near,
                whether it’s into new waters or simply into his arms.

     You are that important to him, you are worth it,  and he will NOT let you go. Knowing that, believing that….just might give you a little more courage the next time Jesus whispers to you, “Come.”