11 Pentecost

 

August 9, 2026

 Matthew 14:22-33

 + So, this story of Jesus and the storm is one that really, I think, captures our imaginations in a real way.

 It resonates with all of us.

 And not just because it’s about an actual meteorological event.

 We love this story---it resonates with us—because we all know storms.

 And by that, I mean, we know what chaos and hardship are like

 And we have all weathered our fair share of “storms” in our lives.

 Many of us—and I’m speaking for myself very much here—have tried to hard to make sense of the storms in our lives.

 And there have been many times when I have emerged from them  wondering not only “what was that?” but also “why did that happen?”

 The storm  in today’s Gospel reading forces us to reassess and reexamine not only the “what” of a storm, but also the “why.”

 In our Gospel, we find Jesus sending the disciples out onto the water without him.

 And what does he send them into?

 A storm.

 A real storm.

 But this is important to remember:

 that storm is not a sign that they have done something wrong.

 It is not divine wrath

 They are in that boat precisely because they have done what Jesus told them to do.

 Sometimes heeding Jesus, and following Jesus, leads us into storms.

 Stoms of misunderstanding.

 Storms of resentment.

 Storms in which we are buffeting by the forces that happen for trying to do the right thing in this world.

 And we wonder, “why?”

 After all, we sometimes imagine that being faithful will somehow protect us from trouble.

 We think, if I pray enough, if I believe enough, or if I just live well enough, the storms will pass me by.

 But that is not the promise of the Gospel.

 The promise is not that there won’t storms.

 I hate to break this news to you, but there are going to be storms!

 The promise is that even the midst of the storm, we are never alone.

 Even there, the Anointed One of God will come to us.

 The disciples see Jesus walking toward them across the water, and they are terrified.

 They think he’s a ghost.

 They can’t recognize him because of their fear, because fear has distorted their vision.

 Fear does that.

 Fear makes every shadow look threatening.

 Fear convinces us that we are all alone.

 Fear tells us that the wind and the waves are the only things that are real.

 Fear tells us that no one is coming for us.  

 I think I’ve shared with you before what I think is the most absolutely terrifying film I’ve ever seen.

 It is not what you think it would be.

 It’s not a horror film, per se.

 It’s not even remotely supernatural.

 Rather, it’s based on a true story.

 The most terrifying film I’ve ever seen is a film called Open Water.

 It’s about an actual event in which an American couple are scuba diving in the Coral Sea off Australia.

 They accidently left behind by the crew of their tour boat.

 And they are forgotten.

 For days.

 In shark infested water.

With no provisions.

 With nothing.

 And no one is coming to rescue them.

 That, to me, is real fear.

 Jesus understands this fear.

 He understands this sense of being afraid and alone and left behind.

 Because what does he say to those followers of his?

 He says,

 “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

 Do not be afraid.

 The most commonly repeated command we find in all of scripture.

 Do not be afraid.

 Well, Peter takes those words a bit too far—as Peter tends to do.  

 He steps out of the boat and starts walking toward Jesus.

 But then he notices the wind and what happens?

 He begins to sink.

 Now, we might be tempted to judge Peter at this point.

 We might say, well, if only he had kept his eyes on Jesus.

 If only his faith had been stronger.

 If only he had been less afraid.

 But, let’s be honest.

 We’ve been where Peter was.

 We too have been impetuous.

 We too have stepped out a bit too self-assured.

 And we too have let fear win out.

 We too have sunk.  

 Peter then cries out.

 “Lord, save me!”

 And the answer to his plea is quick.

 Immediately Jesus reaches out his hand.

 Jesus does this not after Peter gathers himself together.

 He doesn’t do it after Peter proves that his faith is strong enough.

 He does it, immediately, int hat moment of fear and panic.

 That, very simply, is grace.

 Grace—that gift we receive from God that we do not necessarily deserve or fully anticipate.

 In this sense, grace is the hand of God’s Anointed One reaching out for us before we can save ourselves.

 This is our hope as followers of Jesus.

 There will be times when the wind is against us.

 There will be times when fear prevails in our lives.

 There will be times when we cannot recognize those whom God sends to us coming toward us.

 There will be times when our courage fails and we begin to sink.

 But even then, even in that moment of fear and despair, we are not beyond the outstretched hand of the Anointed One.

 Sometimes faith is walking on water.

 And sometimes faith is simply knowing whom to call upon when we are going under.

 Sometimes faith is simply saying,

 “Lord, save me.”

 It’s a small prayer.

 But it’s enough.

 Because, no matter what may happen, no matter how intense the storms are in my our lives, no matter how alone we may feel or convinced no one is going to come and save, the hand of God’s Chosen One is always reaching toward us.