1 King
19.9-18; Matthew 14.22-33
+ Being a poet sometimes is even
weirder than being a priest. As you know, my book, Fargo, 1957—the book about the tornado that struck Fargo in June,
1957—has done fairly well for a book of poems. I am amazed sometimes when I go
somewhere and people say, “Hey! You wrote that book about the tornado. I read
it. It’s the only book of poetry I’ve ever read.”
But the weird aspect of this is when
people think, because I wrote a book about a tornado, that I’m some sort of meteorologist.
People think I know a lot about the weather. I know a little bit about the weather. But not as much as what some people expect of
me because I wrote this book.
Occasionally, though, I will get
someone who will say something like this to me: “You know, when I read your
book, I realized that I think there’s more to that tornado than just a tornado.
I think that tornado symbolizes something.” Now, I like it when someone says something
like that. They really understood my book.
Well, today, in our reading from 1
Kings and from our Gospel reading, we get storms. I know maybe a little bit
about these storms. We find, in our
reading from First Kings, that the prophet Elijah is being confronted with
several natural disasters actually. First
there is a storm, then an earthquake and then a fire. And in each of them, he finds that, despite
their magnificence, despite the fact that they are more powerful than Elijah
himself, God is not in any of them. He
does not hear the Word of God coming to him out of these instances. But rather, God speaks to him in the “sheer
silence” after the storm.
Our Gospel reading is similar in many ways. There too is a storm. And this one is just as frightening. The disciples in the boat are buffeting, they
are trying to make their way back to shore and cannot because the storm’s wind
is against them, and they are clearly afraid.
A word we keep experiencing in our
gospel reading for today is “fear.” The
disciples see Jesus, think he’s a ghost and they cry out in fear. And Jesus says to them,
“Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
Peter, audacious as he is, then gets out of the boat and starts
walking to Jesus. But when he notices
the storm raging around him, he becomes frightened and begins to sink. And Jesus reaches out his hands and lifts him
from the water and stills the storm.
Again, I think these storms actually have deeper meaning for us
than we initially think. Sort of like the tornado in my book. They seem to be also symbols for our own
storms in our lives. In the storms of our own lives, we often find ourselves at
a loss. We too often do unpredictable
things in those storms like Peter. We do
the equivalent of getting out of a boat and attempting to walk on water. We find ourselves venturing into areas we maybe
shouldn’t be venturing. We find
ourselves doing naively audacious things. And while doing it, we sometimes lose heart,
we become afraid, and we begin sinking.
This is what storms do to us. They sap us our energy, of our joy, of our
bravery and they leave us vulnerable to them. This is also what fear does to
us. It causes us to lose heart. It causes us to lose our joy and our gladness
and our happiness. It saps our life and
our energy from us.
And that is why, during those storms,
during those moments of false courage, during those times of raging fear, we
need to strain into the storm and we need to hear that calm voice speaking to
us with familiar words:
“Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
In the storms of our lives, in the raging tempests of fear, these
are the only words we can cling to. You’ve
heard say this a million times in my sermons but, the most often repeated
commandment we hear throughout the entire Bible is “do not be afraid.”
“Do not be afraid.”
Both in the Old Testament and in the New, this is one of the most
repeated statements we find from God. And this commandment still holds true for
us today. Fear is one of those things we all live with in one form or the
other. We live with a fear of the
unstable world around us. We live with a
fear of all the terrible and bad things that life can throw in our way. We live with a fear of the future, and all the
uncertainties it holds. And we all live
with a fear of death—of all the uncertainty that awaits us when this life is
done.
But God, again and again, says to us, “Do not be afraid.” Do not
be afraid of the things this world can throw at us. Do not be afraid of things you cannot change. Do not be afraid of the actual natural storms
of this life, because we have faith in the God who is more powerful than any
storm that can come upon us. Do not be
afraid of the storms of this life that come from within—the storms of anxiety
and fear and uncertainty, because we have faith in the God who is in control of
our lives as well. Do not be afraid of
even death, because God promises us that God is not a God of death, but of life
and if we trust in God and have faith in God, God will give us life that will
never end.
For those of us who live in faith, we have no reason to fear. Faith means trust. Faith means being able to look to God, in
those storms of our lives, and know that although frightening things may rage
about us, with God, we can find the calm center of our lives. As we venture out on to the choppy waters of
our lives and, there, we find ourselves sinking into the storm, as we are
overwhelmed by the storms of our lives, as we despair over the storm, we need
to look up and see Jesus standing there.
This reminds of the greatest part of the Gospel reading for today.
In the midst of that storm, as Peter
sinks into the waters, Jesus doesn’t simply stay put and raise Peter
miraculously from the waters from a distance. Rather, Jesus actually comes to Peter where he
is in that storm and lifts him out of those waters. And that is the image we can take away with us
as well. In the storms of our lives, as we sink deeply into the dark waters of
anxiety and fear, when we call out to Jesus, he comes to us where we are and
raises us up. And he leads us back to a
place of safety.
So, in those moments in which we find ourselves sinking, in the
storms of our lives when you feel as though are lost and can never be found
again, remember the importance of this Gospel reading. Let us allow Jesus to come to us and let him
lift us up from the waters. And let us
let him lead us to a place of quietness
and safety, where, in that silence, we too can hear the soothing, comforting
words of God speaking to us. In telling us
not to fear, in taking our hand and raising us up from the darkness of our lives,
he stills the storms of our live as well. He stills the storms of anxiety and
depression and frustration and all the other emotions fear brings to us.
There is a wonderful prayer from the Book of Common Prayer of the
Anglican Church in New Zealand that I often pray with people I visit in the
hospital or who are suffering from any anxiety or fear. The prayer begins,
O God of the present,
O God, who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart,
bring hope and courage to those who trust in you.
O God, who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart,
bring hope and courage to those who trust in you.
O God, who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart,
bring hope and courage to us—
for we trust in you.
Amen.
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