11 Pentecost

 

August 13, 2023

 

1 King 19.9-18; Matthew 14.22-33

 

+ Being a poet sometimes is even weirder than being a priest.

 

As you know, many years ago, I wrote a book about a tornado.

 

A tornado that has become truly legendary in our Fargo community.

 

I gotta say, that book 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.

 

But occasionally, 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.

 

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 on the water 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.

 

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 those things, we sometimes lose heart, we become afraid, and we begin sinking.

 

This is what storms do to us.

 

They sap us of 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 Hebrew scriptures and in the New Testament, this is one of the most repeated statements we find from God, which Jesus very often echoes.

 

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 depression 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 realize that God is with us, even then.

 

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.

 

Our job as followers of Jesus means that sometimes we also have to follow Jesus out onto the stormy waters of the sea.

 

It is not enough for us to simply sink and cry out to God and expect God to save us.

 

It is not enough that we are simply passive in our relationship with God.

 

We also have to listen for others who are also sinking into the dark waters of their own lives.

 

And we, like Jesus, need to get up, step out onto the uncertain surface of a stormy sea, and help those people who are struggling in their own storms.

 

It’s not just always about us.

 

It’s also about helping out others.

 

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 what these scriptures readings about storms are really about.

 

Yes, God will come to us in the storms of our lives.

 

But we also need to go out in the storm ourselves and help others.

 

And just as God leads us back to a place of quietness and safety, we also need to help others back into quiet and safe places.

 

It is there, where, in that silence, we too can hear the soothing, comforting words of God speaking to us.

 

Sometimes the storms of our own lives are stilled when we help still the storms in the lives of others.

 

Sometimes God stills the storms of anxiety and depression and frustration and all the other emotions fear brings to us.

 

At other times, God compels us to help still storms of anxiety and depression and frustration and fear in others

 

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.

 

I know some of you know this prayers because you mention it to me often.

 

The prayer begins,

 

O God of the present moment,
O God, who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart,
bring hope and courage to those who trust in you.

 

This should be our prayer as well.

 

We also should pray that the God, who in Jesus stills the storms of our lives and soothes our frantic hearts, truly does bring hope and courage to us, who trust in God.

 

So, let allow God to still the storms of our life and sooth our hearts when they become frantic.

 

Let us allow God to come to us where we are, out here in the midst of the storms of our lives,  to bring us to safety.

 

And let us be ready to get up and venture into the storm to help those who  call to us to help in the storms of their own lives.

 

And when we do, we will find an abundance of hope and courage in our lives so that we can live our lives fully and completely—and without any fear—as God wants us to.

 

Let us pray.

 

 

O God of the present moment,
O God, who in Jesus stills the storm and soothes the frantic heart,
bring hope and courage to us—

us, who lives here, at times in fear in the midst of storm—

for we trust in you.

 

Amen.