“It Is I”

Matthew 14:22-33

I’m writing this sermon the day before I leave on the mission trip, knowing that I will not be preaching it until August 7. In some ways this is either an act of faith or maybe assumptions on my part. I trust – I assume – that I will be alive and healthy enough to preach it. I trust – I assume – that I’ll will make it back from Atlanta and then Canada. I trust – and assume – that my life will follow the schedule that I have planned.

But I do all that trusting, assuming, and planning with the words of the Apostle James running through my mind: “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a town and spend a year there, doing business and making money’.” Of course I’ll only be gone two weeks, and other than God’s business in Atlanta and getting reacquainted my wife in Canada, I’ll not be doing any business, especially any that is financially profitable.

However, it is still appropriate to pay attention to the rest of what James had to say: “Yet you do not even know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

But here come the words of James that I intend to follow: “Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wishes, we will live and do this and that’.” I can only hope and pray that it is the Lord’s will for me to come home safely from my journeys. Beyond that it’s out of my hands.

Faith is really a matter of putting oneself in God’s hands and trusting his will. It may be a trite and overused expression, but it really is a matter of letting go and letting God. I can do that most of the time but then I’ve never had to bet my life on it.

Unlike those first disciples of Jesus, I’ve never been in a small boat on the Sea of Galilee after dark with a terrible storm raging. Those guys were scared, even the ones among them who had fished that sea for a living. Those fishermen may have been the most scared of all. They knew what a storm at sea could do. Adding to their fear was the deeply ingrained Jewish belief that the sea was a symbol of that chaos out of which God brought creation. In their minds it might also have been the symbol of everything that is evil and destructive.

But for all that, seeing Jesus walking across the water toward them scared them the most. People don’t walk on water. It’s a scientific fact, an experiential reality. But here came Jesus. Their first thought was that he was a ghost. That in itself is scary enough. But even more frightening was the possibility of his blasphemy. Jesus was doing what only God could do: triumphing over the sea in a miraculous way. He was acting like God, which under ordinary circumstances would have been blasphemy.

But these were not ordinary circumstances and Jesus was no ordinary man. They should have known that, but the totality of who Jesus was had yet to dawn on them. They’d seen miracles, but nothing like this. And then Jesus said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” “It is I” were God’s words, the Aramaic and Greek equivalent of the words God spoke to Moses from the burning bush: I am who I am. Jesus was acting like God and even talking like God.

Skipping over a few verses, after Jesus, bringing Peter with him, got back in the boat the wind ceased, the storm ended. Jesus had stilled the sea as only God could. Such power over the sea was God’s power, a power beautifully articulated by the Navy Hymn: “Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave, Who bids the mighty ocean deep, It’s own appointed limits keep…” At last they got it: “And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God’.”

They got it. Suddenly their faith was renewed, or to use the Apostle Paul’s phrasing, by way of this experience they were transformed by the renewing of their minds. Finally they had a firm grasp of the obvious, at least for a little while.

Of course Peter began grasping the obvious before they did. He challenged Jesus to prove his identity by calling him to walk on the water. And Jesus did. So Peter, in an act of tremendous faith, jumped out of the boat and started walking across the water toward Jesus. He was walking on water. He had faith. But then he looked around, realized just how hard the wind was blowing, and experienced an immediate crisis of faith. He started sinking, but still he had enough faith in Jesus to shout out, “Lord, save me.” And Jesus did.

Before we become overly critical of Peter, let’s remember these two facts: One: He was the only one of the twelve who had faith enough to get out of the boat. His faith may have failed him, but at least he tried. Two: When push came to shove, when he was in danger of drowning, he had faith enough in Jesus to ask him to rescue him. He trusted Jesus that much.

Of course, Jesus confronted him with an appropriate question, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” Over the centuries various commentators have wondered about the tone of Jesus’ words to Peter. Was he angry with Peter or disappointed? Some suggest that he was merely amused. Good old Peter was simply being himself, living up to his reputation: brave and brash one minute and floundering in fear the next. Jesus was, I’m sure disappointed, but I’m just as sure not angry. Amused might not be the right word, but in my mind Jesus was letting out a deep sigh and rolling his eyes even as he asked him why he doubted.

Peter wasn’t the only one who doubted that night. The other disciples had doubts of their own; doubts that turned into fear as they huddled in the boat, fearing for their lives, doubts as to the very identity of Jesus, doubts as to Jesus’ relationship with God the Father. I’m sure Jesus had some deep sighs and eye rolling over their lack of faith, and neither for the first time nor the last. These guys kept failing to grasp the obvious right up until the resurrection, and even them some of them doubted.

Let’s not be overly critical of them either. Would we have done any better under the circumstances? Probably not. Even now, convinced of the true identity of Jesus as the Word who became flesh, we have our doubts. Rarely are these doubts intellectual in nature. We know who Jesus was and is.

But do we really know, deep down in our hearts and souls who Jesus is? When we’re trying to navigate our way through the various storms in our lives, do we trust that our Lord is with us; do we turn to him for guidance? When our life of faith requires us to step out into the unknown, do we trust Jesus enough to obey him? When our faith fails, and it will fail, do we trust Jesus enough to call on him for rescue? And as we come to the ends of our lives, will we trust Jesus enough to follow him into that greatest human unknown, death?

The truth is that we’re often very much like those disciples who fearfully huddled together in the boat, not daring to step out in faith. Or we’re like Peter, we step out boldly only to be overcome by fear somewhere along the way. And when we find ourselves sinking, we become so unlike Peter as we thrash around trying to save ourselves. And over and over again we will hear our Lord ask us, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

In the end, by the grace and mercy of God, a little faith is enough. For if we will really believe that Jesus is the great “I AM,” when we have our moments of doubt and failure of faith, he will look upon us with love, and maybe amusement, sigh deeply, roll his eyes and then pull us back into the boat, saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Amen.