A little girl asked her teacher why water bugs could walk on water. Her teacher gave her a little
lecture about weight, surface tension, and so forth, and then told the girl that of course a large
organism like a human being could never walk on water. The girl replied, “Well, the Bible says that
Peter walked on water.”
The teacher tersely said, “That’s physically impossible. No human could ever walk on water.” The
girl said, “When I get to heaven, I’ll ask Peter.” Feeling especially churlish, her teacher asked, “Well,
what if Peter went to hell?” The girl calmly replied, “Then you can ask him.”
A couple weeks ago we heard St. Paul’s mother of all reassurances to the Christian: Nothing can
ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. We may never find a more beautiful
illustration of this truth than in today’s miracle story of Jesus and Peter on the stormy Lake of
Galilee. I’d like to start by putting this whole story into its context. Remember the event from last
week’s Gospel reading that immediately preceded that which we read about a minute ago. Jesus
had dumbfounded a great crowd of listeners with his miracle of the loaves and the fishes. You have
to understand that most people were not even close to being clear on who Jesus was or what a
Messiah should be like at that point in Jesus’ ministry. In the explosive environment of First Century
Palestine, the Jews wanted nothing more than to rid themselves of the Romans who ruled them.
And the Messiah was widely expected to be the one who would lead them in doing this.
So when Jesus openly performs a miracle of massive proportions before the crowd, it’s not at all
hard to imagine that their little minds are clicking and whirring with the possibilities here. “Wow, if
Jesus could make enough meals out of five loaves and two fish to feed thousands of people, what
could he do with a few swords, spears and clubs?” Most historians think that there was a great deal
of revolutionary excitement happening, and John writes regarding this same miracle that the crowd
wanted to come and make Jesus king by force after witnessing it. It’s also not hard to imagine the
disciples getting caught up in this in some way. As we all know, they weren’t above making the
occasional mistake about Jesus’ identity or mission, either. So Matthew says that “Jesus made the
disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.” He
gives them their marching orders. Or perhaps more accurately, their “rowing orders.” He doesn’t
want this “king” thing to get out of hand, or for his disciples to do damage to Jesus’ real aims by
acting on their mistaken ideas.
Now, there’s another thing I want to emphasize to set the scene. And that’s that Jesus’ miracles
were never without a good reason. Remember, more often than not, there was a life lesson, a
spiritual lesson, folded into the miraculous actions he performed. Please keep this in mind as we
look at the rest of the passage.
So the miraculous feeding is over, Jesus sends the disciples on their way, and their way holds
danger. A storm blows up, and their little boat is being buffeted by waves. Meanwhile, Jesus is
praying alone on the mountain, and for all the disciples know, He’s oblivious to what’s happening to
them. Let’s pause for a moment. Does any of this sound at all familiar in some symbolic way?
Being sent out by the Lord to do something, and then having a whole lot of unanticipated danger,
confusion, and turbulence take place? And then maybe even coming to the conclusion that the Lord’
s off somewhere taking a coffee break? Has anything like this ever happened to you?
I can sure relate to this. Eight years ago I took my optimistic little family off to seminary, feeling that
we’d been sent by the Lord, cheerfully oblivious to the dangers we were rowing toward. And then,
wham! Financial hardships and unexpected complications, all in the middle of rowing as hard we
could against the headwind of papers, sermons and midterms. There may be a number of you who’
ve experienced or are experiencing similar things in your own lives. We think we’re being good
servants. We faithfully obey and then, hey presto, crisis hits. And where’s the Lord?
That, of course, is what happens to the boatload of disciples. They’re stressed and exhausted after
trying for most of the night to survive the storm. Then, as if they haven’t had enough to be stressed
about, their wide and bloodshot eyes spot a figure walking toward them on the surface of the lake. I’
m curious to know which disciple was the first one to blurt out in terror, “It’s a ghost!!” And they all
promptly begin wailing in fear. Their nerves are shot. It’s easy to get in a guilty chuckle here at the
expense of the disciples, but I did pretty close to the same thing in Pennsylvania! “God’s forgotten
us! We’re all gonna die!!” When we bottomed out in my middler year, I began to think seminary was
a big mistake and that I must have totally misread God’s will. I was fantasizing about bailing out.
Thank God for a good wife to help calm at least some of my fears.
And speaking strictly for myself, if the Lord Jesus himself had come walking down Maplewood
Avenue in Ambridge, Pennsylvania, my eyes were so blinded by my own distress that I’m not sure I
would have recognized Him.
But you see, Jesus is gracious and loving enough that He understands this. And he understands
the disciples when they start crying out in fear upon seeing Him. And what does Jesus do? Does he
berate them? No! Matthew writes that immediately, immediately, Jesus spoke to them and said,
‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ How many times in Scripture has Jesus or one of the angels
said those precious words? “Do not be afraid.” When they perform actions or say words that
originate from a reality beyond our own, we don’t know how to handle this and our response is fear.
But he says, “Do not be afraid. There’s something happening here that is far greater and more
wonderful than anything you’ve ever imagined!
Now sometimes I don’t think we give Peter enough credit. We see him as the fiery, impetuous
fisherman who did everything from challenging Jesus’ will when He spoke of his coming crucifixion, to
denying him three times just before that event unfolded. And here in some ways he’s true to
character. He impulsively asks Jesus, “Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water.”
Wow. Would you say that? That wouldn’t be the first line that would pop into my head. But look
where Peter’s heart is. He wants to believe like a child and to know that it’s Jesus who’s talking to
them. And for that one electric moment, something in him trusts Jesus so simply and thoroughly that
he asks him to do something that will in turn require a stunning act of faith on his own part. “If it’s
you, tell me to come to you on the water.” And Jesus looks him squarely in the eye and says,
“Come.”
So Peter, his eyes fixed on the tender eyes of his Master, vaults over the side of the boat and
begins walking on the water toward Him. The passage doesn’t say how the other disciples
responded to this, but in my own estimation their eyes are bulging noticeably from their gaping
faces. Their breath catches in their throats, and time stands still. And what about us? Do we have
enough faith and trust to do what Peter did? To hear the voice of Jesus, and say, “Lord, if it’s you,
command me to step out of my safe little boat and do something which, using my faculties of human
reason, seems dangerous, if not impossible? To step out against all odds, determined to do the
right thing in God’s eyes? To entrust our families, our belongings, our finances, our pride, and even
our very lives to His tender care?
At this point I have to say that the people of Hope have been ahead of the curve on this one, and we
have something happening up on Alameda to prove it. Many people stepped out in faith. Yet
sometimes opportunities come in clusters. We’re finding ourselves falling a little behind on our
operating budget. Times are kind of hard right now. This may be another little wind-on-the-water
moment for us. We stepped out before; will we do it again?
Listen to what happens next to Peter. He does something I can so thoroughly relate to. His focus
on Jesus wavers, and he becomes aware of the storm that’s still howling around them. In a moment
of panicky, utterly rational realization, he says to himself, “But this is impossible. This can’t be
happening.” And guess what: it stops happening. The storm really is raging around him. The
elements of this world really are buffeting the surface of the lake, and Peter doesn’t even have the
protection of their safe little boat any more. The realities of this world push away the luminous
possibilities of the world beyond, and he begins to sink. But notice that Peter doesn’t start
backstroking for the boat. He doesn’t call out to the other disciples, but to the Lord himself, crying,
“Lord, save me!” If there ever was a time when quick action by the Lord is needed, it’s now.
And Matthew writes, “Jesus immediately, immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying
to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’” And you know what, in these words I don’t really hear
an exasperated tone on the part of Jesus. Rather I hear the tone of a mentor whose prize pupil has
come this close to getting it. Peter, for one glorious moment, perfectly understood the meaning of
faith. “Why did you doubt? You were so close,” Jesus might have said.
And of course, this is the lesson that Jesus has for all of us through this miracle. Our age of
rationalism has given us many gifts. It’s helped us to understand how a lot of things work, at least
on a physical level. It’s given us confidence in our human problem-solving abilities. But one great
disservice it has done us over the past three or four hundred years is depriving us of the wonder of
things that originate from beyond this world. We scramble to tame the supernatural, disbelieving or
explaining it away so we can feel confident that we know pretty much all there is to know. Human
reason prevails. But Jesus is saying there’s another law at work here. He says, “If you believe in
me, all sorts of things can happen that you never dreamed possible.” We call them miracles. Peter
participated in a miracle until his doubt and his “reason” closed the supernatural window that Jesus
had opened for him. But the good news is that Jesus is a loving Master. He reaches out, catches
us, saves us, and reminds us that our doubt is getting in the way of astonishing supernatural
blessings. “Why did you doubt?”
Finally, Jesus brings one finishing touch to the whole episode. Matthew, who witnessed the entire
event, writes, “When Jesus and Peter got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat
worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’” My friends, when it comes to being skeptical
and cautious, I take a back seat to no one. I may have shared with you before that I relate to
doubting Thomas. I’m therefore a living witness to the truth that God forgives our unbelief. But I’ve
also had just enough experience witnessing miracles that I know what Jesus is capable of doing in
any one of our lives, if we give Him the room. And we give Him the room to perform miracles, when
He so chooses, by investing our trust and our faith in Him—by fixing our eyes on Jesus and not on
ourselves or our circumstances. If we step out of the boat with our eyes fixed on Jesus, amazing
things can happen. And even if our gaze wavers, He’s there to save us, and remind us of His
supernatural truths. And when all’s said and done, He’ll be there to calm the storm and bring us His
sweet peace. What more could we possibly ask? Through it all, may we have the awareness, the
gratitude, and the simple faith to say to Jesus what the disciples said: “Truly, you are the Son of
God.” In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
lecture about weight, surface tension, and so forth, and then told the girl that of course a large
organism like a human being could never walk on water. The girl replied, “Well, the Bible says that
Peter walked on water.”
The teacher tersely said, “That’s physically impossible. No human could ever walk on water.” The
girl said, “When I get to heaven, I’ll ask Peter.” Feeling especially churlish, her teacher asked, “Well,
what if Peter went to hell?” The girl calmly replied, “Then you can ask him.”
A couple weeks ago we heard St. Paul’s mother of all reassurances to the Christian: Nothing can
ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. We may never find a more beautiful
illustration of this truth than in today’s miracle story of Jesus and Peter on the stormy Lake of
Galilee. I’d like to start by putting this whole story into its context. Remember the event from last
week’s Gospel reading that immediately preceded that which we read about a minute ago. Jesus
had dumbfounded a great crowd of listeners with his miracle of the loaves and the fishes. You have
to understand that most people were not even close to being clear on who Jesus was or what a
Messiah should be like at that point in Jesus’ ministry. In the explosive environment of First Century
Palestine, the Jews wanted nothing more than to rid themselves of the Romans who ruled them.
And the Messiah was widely expected to be the one who would lead them in doing this.
So when Jesus openly performs a miracle of massive proportions before the crowd, it’s not at all
hard to imagine that their little minds are clicking and whirring with the possibilities here. “Wow, if
Jesus could make enough meals out of five loaves and two fish to feed thousands of people, what
could he do with a few swords, spears and clubs?” Most historians think that there was a great deal
of revolutionary excitement happening, and John writes regarding this same miracle that the crowd
wanted to come and make Jesus king by force after witnessing it. It’s also not hard to imagine the
disciples getting caught up in this in some way. As we all know, they weren’t above making the
occasional mistake about Jesus’ identity or mission, either. So Matthew says that “Jesus made the
disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.” He
gives them their marching orders. Or perhaps more accurately, their “rowing orders.” He doesn’t
want this “king” thing to get out of hand, or for his disciples to do damage to Jesus’ real aims by
acting on their mistaken ideas.
Now, there’s another thing I want to emphasize to set the scene. And that’s that Jesus’ miracles
were never without a good reason. Remember, more often than not, there was a life lesson, a
spiritual lesson, folded into the miraculous actions he performed. Please keep this in mind as we
look at the rest of the passage.
So the miraculous feeding is over, Jesus sends the disciples on their way, and their way holds
danger. A storm blows up, and their little boat is being buffeted by waves. Meanwhile, Jesus is
praying alone on the mountain, and for all the disciples know, He’s oblivious to what’s happening to
them. Let’s pause for a moment. Does any of this sound at all familiar in some symbolic way?
Being sent out by the Lord to do something, and then having a whole lot of unanticipated danger,
confusion, and turbulence take place? And then maybe even coming to the conclusion that the Lord’
s off somewhere taking a coffee break? Has anything like this ever happened to you?
I can sure relate to this. Eight years ago I took my optimistic little family off to seminary, feeling that
we’d been sent by the Lord, cheerfully oblivious to the dangers we were rowing toward. And then,
wham! Financial hardships and unexpected complications, all in the middle of rowing as hard we
could against the headwind of papers, sermons and midterms. There may be a number of you who’
ve experienced or are experiencing similar things in your own lives. We think we’re being good
servants. We faithfully obey and then, hey presto, crisis hits. And where’s the Lord?
That, of course, is what happens to the boatload of disciples. They’re stressed and exhausted after
trying for most of the night to survive the storm. Then, as if they haven’t had enough to be stressed
about, their wide and bloodshot eyes spot a figure walking toward them on the surface of the lake. I’
m curious to know which disciple was the first one to blurt out in terror, “It’s a ghost!!” And they all
promptly begin wailing in fear. Their nerves are shot. It’s easy to get in a guilty chuckle here at the
expense of the disciples, but I did pretty close to the same thing in Pennsylvania! “God’s forgotten
us! We’re all gonna die!!” When we bottomed out in my middler year, I began to think seminary was
a big mistake and that I must have totally misread God’s will. I was fantasizing about bailing out.
Thank God for a good wife to help calm at least some of my fears.
And speaking strictly for myself, if the Lord Jesus himself had come walking down Maplewood
Avenue in Ambridge, Pennsylvania, my eyes were so blinded by my own distress that I’m not sure I
would have recognized Him.
But you see, Jesus is gracious and loving enough that He understands this. And he understands
the disciples when they start crying out in fear upon seeing Him. And what does Jesus do? Does he
berate them? No! Matthew writes that immediately, immediately, Jesus spoke to them and said,
‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ How many times in Scripture has Jesus or one of the angels
said those precious words? “Do not be afraid.” When they perform actions or say words that
originate from a reality beyond our own, we don’t know how to handle this and our response is fear.
But he says, “Do not be afraid. There’s something happening here that is far greater and more
wonderful than anything you’ve ever imagined!
Now sometimes I don’t think we give Peter enough credit. We see him as the fiery, impetuous
fisherman who did everything from challenging Jesus’ will when He spoke of his coming crucifixion, to
denying him three times just before that event unfolded. And here in some ways he’s true to
character. He impulsively asks Jesus, “Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water.”
Wow. Would you say that? That wouldn’t be the first line that would pop into my head. But look
where Peter’s heart is. He wants to believe like a child and to know that it’s Jesus who’s talking to
them. And for that one electric moment, something in him trusts Jesus so simply and thoroughly that
he asks him to do something that will in turn require a stunning act of faith on his own part. “If it’s
you, tell me to come to you on the water.” And Jesus looks him squarely in the eye and says,
“Come.”
So Peter, his eyes fixed on the tender eyes of his Master, vaults over the side of the boat and
begins walking on the water toward Him. The passage doesn’t say how the other disciples
responded to this, but in my own estimation their eyes are bulging noticeably from their gaping
faces. Their breath catches in their throats, and time stands still. And what about us? Do we have
enough faith and trust to do what Peter did? To hear the voice of Jesus, and say, “Lord, if it’s you,
command me to step out of my safe little boat and do something which, using my faculties of human
reason, seems dangerous, if not impossible? To step out against all odds, determined to do the
right thing in God’s eyes? To entrust our families, our belongings, our finances, our pride, and even
our very lives to His tender care?
At this point I have to say that the people of Hope have been ahead of the curve on this one, and we
have something happening up on Alameda to prove it. Many people stepped out in faith. Yet
sometimes opportunities come in clusters. We’re finding ourselves falling a little behind on our
operating budget. Times are kind of hard right now. This may be another little wind-on-the-water
moment for us. We stepped out before; will we do it again?
Listen to what happens next to Peter. He does something I can so thoroughly relate to. His focus
on Jesus wavers, and he becomes aware of the storm that’s still howling around them. In a moment
of panicky, utterly rational realization, he says to himself, “But this is impossible. This can’t be
happening.” And guess what: it stops happening. The storm really is raging around him. The
elements of this world really are buffeting the surface of the lake, and Peter doesn’t even have the
protection of their safe little boat any more. The realities of this world push away the luminous
possibilities of the world beyond, and he begins to sink. But notice that Peter doesn’t start
backstroking for the boat. He doesn’t call out to the other disciples, but to the Lord himself, crying,
“Lord, save me!” If there ever was a time when quick action by the Lord is needed, it’s now.
And Matthew writes, “Jesus immediately, immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying
to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’” And you know what, in these words I don’t really hear
an exasperated tone on the part of Jesus. Rather I hear the tone of a mentor whose prize pupil has
come this close to getting it. Peter, for one glorious moment, perfectly understood the meaning of
faith. “Why did you doubt? You were so close,” Jesus might have said.
And of course, this is the lesson that Jesus has for all of us through this miracle. Our age of
rationalism has given us many gifts. It’s helped us to understand how a lot of things work, at least
on a physical level. It’s given us confidence in our human problem-solving abilities. But one great
disservice it has done us over the past three or four hundred years is depriving us of the wonder of
things that originate from beyond this world. We scramble to tame the supernatural, disbelieving or
explaining it away so we can feel confident that we know pretty much all there is to know. Human
reason prevails. But Jesus is saying there’s another law at work here. He says, “If you believe in
me, all sorts of things can happen that you never dreamed possible.” We call them miracles. Peter
participated in a miracle until his doubt and his “reason” closed the supernatural window that Jesus
had opened for him. But the good news is that Jesus is a loving Master. He reaches out, catches
us, saves us, and reminds us that our doubt is getting in the way of astonishing supernatural
blessings. “Why did you doubt?”
Finally, Jesus brings one finishing touch to the whole episode. Matthew, who witnessed the entire
event, writes, “When Jesus and Peter got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat
worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’” My friends, when it comes to being skeptical
and cautious, I take a back seat to no one. I may have shared with you before that I relate to
doubting Thomas. I’m therefore a living witness to the truth that God forgives our unbelief. But I’ve
also had just enough experience witnessing miracles that I know what Jesus is capable of doing in
any one of our lives, if we give Him the room. And we give Him the room to perform miracles, when
He so chooses, by investing our trust and our faith in Him—by fixing our eyes on Jesus and not on
ourselves or our circumstances. If we step out of the boat with our eyes fixed on Jesus, amazing
things can happen. And even if our gaze wavers, He’s there to save us, and remind us of His
supernatural truths. And when all’s said and done, He’ll be there to calm the storm and bring us His
sweet peace. What more could we possibly ask? Through it all, may we have the awareness, the
gratitude, and the simple faith to say to Jesus what the disciples said: “Truly, you are the Son of
God.” In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Water Strider
Matthew 14:22-23
Matthew 14:22-23
August 10, 2008
Fr. Dan Tuton
Fr. Dan Tuton