“Thinking Outside of the Boat”

August 10, 2008

Exodus 14:19-31

Matthew 14:22-33

Look the disciples on the rough sea with the storm winds blowing. The boat rocks. The water starts to fill the boat. They are out in the middle of the sea. It is dark. Peter and the other disciples are huddled together in a boat, battered by the waves, far from the land, with the wind against them. Look at them in the boat.

Here, I think, the Bible gets it right in describing the human situation.

Throughout Scripture, the image of the sea carries with it connotations of the chaos that always threatens us, the chaos that is held at bay only by the grace of God. “To the biblical mind, being on the sea is itself a threat. To be at sea evokes images of death. And here, of course, it is the sea that separates the disciples from Jesus, who represents the presence of God”[1]

I’m willing to bet that you’ve felt like that—alone in the boat, buffeted by the storm and the waves. There have probably been times when you’ve questioned the presence or the love of God. Maybe now is one of those times for you.

Look at the people in the boat. You’ll probably recognize yourself on board as well.

After enduring the storm for some time, the passengers see a figure walking toward them. It looks a little like, yes, like Jesus, their leader. But since he is walking on water they are terrified. One translation of this story tells of their response:  “‘It's a ghost!’ they said, and screamed with fear.”

Is this a vision, a hallucination—or is it indeed a ghost coming near?

Of all the stories, why would this gospel tell of disciples who thought they'd seen a ghost?

Think of those who first heard this story, some years after the death and resurrection of Jesus. He was not physically present to them. Could it be that the early Christians, trying to live faithful lives in a perilous world at times experienced Jesus as not very real? They had placed their faith and their lives in this Jesus. In the face of persecution and ostracism, did they worry that he was not going to come through for them—that he would be no more than a wisp of smoke?

It would be a terrifying thought for those disciples out in that storm tossed boat.

It would be a terrifying thought for those early Christians.

It's also frightening for us in our time.

Doubt nags us. Even as people pray and seek to live faithful lives at home, at work, at school, I know there is the worry that God is not around. Or at least that is my fear at times. Reynolds Price said that “Few believers known to me have survived midlife without the sense of occasional or frequent, desertions by God or absences of God’s interest, or—hardest of all—God’s intentional silences.”[2]

Have we been fooled into seeing what isn't there?

Is this a ghost or is it the living Christ?

Listen. If your eyes cannot be trusted, listen. In the midst of the storm Jesus says: “It's all right! It's I myself. Don't be afraid!”

Our modern minds hear this story and start thinking in terms of the law of gravity. We think of all the jokes and cartoons about Jesus walking on water. The image becomes absurd, the story an occasion for laughter.

The biblical mind was more concerned with the One who overcomes the power of chaos, represented by the sea. “Walking on water” is a phrase that speaks of the conquest of chaos. In biblical thought, only God walks on the sea.

Here, in the middle of this story, Jesus does what only God can do. Jesus speaks as only God can speak. The disciples, the early church, and we today discover God with us in Christ, speaking those incredible words: “Take courage. Do not be afraid.”

There is something real here, after all. In his book, Letter to a Man in the Fire, Reynolds Price reflects on his struggle with cancer and concludes: “I know I believe God loves God’s creation . . . So surely God works and watches, in some sense—no doubt many senses—from love . . . I don’t claim certainty for much else I’ve said. But that claim feels like firm ground to me.”[3]

Faith in the God revealed in Jesus Christ has a firm foundation.

Still, is anybody willing to get out of the boat and start walking toward this figure?

We remember the story of Peter, who, looking, was able to see more than a specter; who listening, was able to recognize more than a ghostly voice. We remember, and hope that his sight and hearing are better than our own sometimes seems to be.

At this point Peter begins to think this is no ghost, but is actually the One he has chosen to follow. “Lord,” Peter calls out over the wind, “If it's really you tell me to come to you on the water.”

At Peter's request, Jesus says to him: “Come on, then,” and he takes his first tentative steps out onto the sea.

Learning to walk is never easy. It takes time and practice. We see toddlers talking those first hesitant steps, arms out. And, let's be honest, we don't come to walking on water naturally. It's hard to negotiate the waves without starting to sink. But Jesus calls us to learn to walk in a new way. And we learn by practice out in the world.

The world is chaotic. Bad things happen. Innocent people are hurt. Hunger, racism, violence, homophobia, greed, and sexism are very real evils that we face—even in our city. Walk out our doors and look. God alone conquers the chaos. But we are invited to walk on those waves as well. We are called to take courageous stands for what is right, what is loving, even as the winds and waves rage.

You know, I'm actually glad to hear that Peter began to sink once he went a couple of steps. To me the story would have been scarier if he stayed on top of the water. At least this way we know what happens when we start to go under.

It is not a ghost, but the living Christ who comes toward us. It's not a ghost, but the One who commands even the wind and the sea who reaches out to catch us when the waves are high, the waters deep.

This is a ghost story that ends with “Don't be afraid—God is near.”

Again and again, however, God's generous offer of forgiveness, God's gift of life is thought to be ghostlike. Again and again, we opt for something of our own making, something that we think is more concrete, and we end up with the sinking feeling that the water around us is rising.

And still God reaches out toward us.

If we open our eyes, if we listen closely, the ghost we see—all that frightens us, all that leads us to give up hope—the ghost we see may actually be Jesus: God moving toward us, giving us faith enough to walk even on stormy seas, there to catch us when we fall.