“In the Middle of It All”

Matthew 14:22-33

August 7, 2005

St. Paul United Methodist Church

Rev. John Fleming, Senior Pastor

September the eleventh is only about a month away again. I don’t know about you, but every year on the day that it happened, I stop for a few minutes and think about what it was like in New York, Washington, and in that Pennsylvania field. I can tell you what I was doing that morning, where I was, and who I was with. It is hard to believe that it has almost been four years since that fateful Tuesday morning. What has happened in London during the past four or five weeks has reminded us of how bad things were here in 2001. This year, the day will roll around on a Sunday and so during our morning worship service, we can’t help but to remember.

Max Lucado is one of my favorite authors. In his book Next Door Savior he tells of Frank Sillechia. On a September morning in 2001, Frank laced up his boots, put on his hat, and headed out of the door of his New Jersey house. It was early, but Frank usually left the house early. He was, after all, a construction worker. He made his living making things, building things, and putting things back together. But on this September morning, like many that came before it and few that came after it, he volunteered his time at what used to be the World Trade Center towers. Like everyone else who volunteered there, Frank just tried to make sense of things. I am not sure if he ever accomplished that. What he hoped to do in volunteering was not to move around the rubble and clear the debris, but to find someone alive. Unfortunately he didn’t do that. Instead he found forty-two dead persons. Amid the rubble, he stumbled onto something. It was a symbol, really in the shape of a twenty-four foot steel beam cross. Evidently the collapse of Tower One onto Building Six created it. There were several crosses there near the largest one. These crosses were of different sizes and different shapes and different angles. The engineers said that the beams of the cross came from two different buildings. When one crashed into the other, the girders bonded together into one. They were forged by the fire. It was a symbol in the fragments. You might say, as Max did, that it was a cross in the crisis. Everyone, you will remember was asking, “Where is God in all of this?” For some, these crosses dared us to hope and for some to say, “God is right here, in the middle of it all.”

I hope that the same can be said of the things that we face. When ambulances take our children to the hospital, when a diseases takes our friends. When the economy hurts our retirement accounts. When someone breaks our heart, can we find Christ in the crisis? I want to say this to you this morning. The presence of trouble shouldn’t surprise us. The absence of God, though, undoes us!”

Now my guess is that it was this absence that bothered the disciples. After all, there they were in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. A boat that Jesus himself had made them get into. Matthew writes this line, “Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat.” Jesus himself dismissed the crowds, made the disciples get into the boat, and was beginning to enjoy that much needed rest that we talked about last week. Matthew tells us that while he was resting, the disciples were struggling with their trip across the lake. He tells us that the boat was being battered by the waves and that the wind was against them.

I may have told you this before, but bad storms on the Sea of Galilee weren’t all that uncommon. As one preacher put it, “A storm on the Sea of Galilee was akin to a sumo wrestler’s belly flop in a kiddy pool.” Waves ten feet tall weren’t uncommon and evidently the storm on this particular night was that bad. It was evening when Jesus put the disciples in the boat and shoved them from the shore. Some versions of this story tell us that it was early in the morning when Jesus made his way down from the mountain and through the storm, on the water. One version, the New Living Translation, tells us that Jesus walked among the waves sometime around three in the morning. So there the disciples were, for nine or so hours, fighting the waves and don’t you just know that one of them, maybe several of them asked, “Where is Jesus? He knows that we are in the boat! For heaven’s sake this was his idea!”

From a distance they saw him. Or at least it looked like him. His robe was wet, his hair was soaked, the waves were slapping his waist and most likely stinging his face. The truth is that they weren’t sure who he was. They thought that he might be a ghost. You see the storm didn’t scare them. There were at least a couple of professional fishermen in the boat. What they were afraid of was what the water represented, evil and the unknown. They weren’t sure who Jesus was and so they cried out in fear. That is when Jesus called out to them to say, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid!

I don’t think that the disciples are so sure. And Peter, their spokesman tests it some say that Peter’s lack of faith happened when he took his eyes off Jesus and fell into the sea. I think that it happened several minutes before then. I think that you can sense his doubt in his words, “If it is you, then invite me to come and walk on the water.” If it is you? Peter discovers is what we all know. When you try to test someone else, the test usually comes back to you. Peter is being invited out on the waters, but it is Peter, really who is being tested, not Jesus. And as you know, Peter sinks.

I am not sure how to preach these words this morning. There are at least a couple of sermons inside these twelve verses. For most of the years of its telling this story has been repeated as a story of faith. Peter, in the end, does not have enough. He steps out like an Olympic hopeful on the balance beam, putting his arms out to the side and one foot in front of the other. Then the wind gusts, he notices it, he turns towards it, maybe dropping his hands and then down he goes while everyone in the boat just looks on helplessly. It’s a shame, really, they must have thought. If Peter had just kept his eyes upon Jesus. If he had just kept his focus and his faith, then he might not have sunk.

The late Mike Yaconelli, co-founder of Youth Specialities, a major publisher of youth resources, once told about attending his daughter’s track meet. He watched on the fourth and final lap of the boy’s mile run. All of the boys were clumped together except for three of them. Two of them were leading the pack, fighting for the finish line. The third was helplessly last. Mike says that he was no athlete, a short and pudgy kid who never should have walked a mile, much less run one. His body was wobbling towards the finish line. His face was twisted in pain. A woman who was obviously his mother was leaping up and down on the bleachers yelling at her son, “Johnny, run faster.” Did it cross his mind. Did he think, “Run faster? Of course, that’s it! I just forgot to run faster. If I do that, I’ll catch up with everyone else.” And yet here we are, feeling like that, after a week of contending with the storms of life, and what does the preacher say, “Run faster. Stay focused. Have faith?”

It is the classic sermon on this text. Just step out of the boat, take a risk, take a chance, keep your eyes upon Jesus, brave the storms. I just don’t think that that is the sermon that I am supposed to preach this morning.

Today I would like to say that sometimes it is all right to stay in the boat. You will remember that after Peter’s little stunt, he came to the others, in the boat, and said to the storm, “Shh. Be calm.” When he did that, the winds ceased. This story is loaded with symbolism. In Matthew’s day, a boat was a symbol for the church. The church was like Noah’s ark, a people saved through the waters. The church was like the disciples’ boat, a place where people went out fishing for others. The church is supposed to be a safe place, a saved place, where God provides shelter in the storms of life. If you will walk into a church and look up at the vaulted ceiling, you will notice that if you flip it upside down, it looks like a boat. And Jesus comes early in the morning. That’s supposed to remind you of something. I think for Matthew, this story was about the church, as a boat, in a storm, where the risen Christ comes to us, stills the storm, and we worship.

If you are more like Matthew than you like Peter; if you have never thought about putting Jesus to the test. If you’re someone who is willing to row against the wind as long as it takes until Jesus comes and joins you in the boat and calms the story. If you are just waiting for the miracle of Jesus coming to be with you and feeling his presence, then maybe that is where these words speak to you. Maybe you are just waiting for Jesus to be in the middle of it all.

Let me close with this story. It is the story that a minister told at a good friend of his’ funeral. She died young and quickly. They had been friend for years and kept in touch by way of e-mail while he was in Texas and she was in New York City. Late one night he received an e-mail from her, telling about what had just happened. She missed her station on the subway and by the time she realized her mistake, she didn’t know what to do. She was afraid, terrified really. Her prayer was for safety and a sign that Jesus was with her. This, after all, was no place for a young woman. At the very moment, the doors of the subway opened and a homeless man came on board and sat right next to her. There were seats everywhere, but he sat next to her. She prayed, she asked, “God, are you near?” Her answer came in a song. The man pulled out a harmonica and played Be Thou My Vision, her favorite hymn. The song was enough to convince her, that there was God in the middle of it all.

The construction worker saw Him in the rubble. Matthew saw him in the waves. What about you? Look closer because he’s right here, in the middle of it all.

(Special thanks to Max Lucado for the story in the beginning and end of this sermon. Thanks to Barbara Brown Taylor for the image of Peter being an Olympic hopeful. And thanks to everyone who has been the church for me. These are safe waters).