Walking Out onto the Stormy Waters

Sunday closest to August 10
Proper 14
Year A
RCL

Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
Psalm 105:1-6, 16-22, 45b
Romans 10:5-15
Matthew 14:22-33

We spend so much of our time looking for calm seas, steady ground, and predictable pathways. We naturally want to protect ourselves, our families, and our faith communities from the unexpected storms of life. But if we take an honest look at our sacred story, God rarely meets us only in the quiet, cozy places where we feel completely safe and in control. More often than not, God meets us right in the middle of our family dysfunctions, in the dark pits of our deep betrayals, and out on the choppy, terrifying waves of a night sky when the wind is blowing directly against us. As we gather online today as the Briarpatch Congregation across these screens, we find ourselves standing in those exact places, called to look squarely at our anxieties, our fears, and our profound need for divine grace.

Look at Joseph and his family in our reading from Genesis. It is a story dripping with jealousy, favoritism, and deep-seated rivalry. Jacob loves Joseph more than all his other children, giving him that famous ornamented robe, and his brothers hate him for it so much they can’t even speak a peaceful word to him. When the opportunity arises out in the wilderness, that bitterness turns violent. They throw young Joseph into a dry pit, strip him of his special robe, and sell him into slavery to a caravan of Ishmaelites heading for Egypt. It looks like a total, crushing end to a young man’s life. Yet, as our reading from Psalm 105 reminds us, God’s providence is working quietly behind the scenes, turning even human malice and deep suffering into a path of ultimate deliverance. The Psalmist reminds us to seek the Lord and his strength continually, remembering the marvelous works he has done, because even when Joseph was sold as a slave and his feet were hurt with fetters, God was preparing him to save his family and entire nations from famine. God doesn’t write off our messy histories or our broken family trees; God enters right into our pits and begins the slow, powerful work of redemption.

That same proximity of God’s grace is what Paul celebrates so powerfully in his letter to the Romans. Paul wants us to understand that we don’t have to climb up into the highest heavens or descend into the abyss to find God. We don’t have to perform heroic spiritual feats or manufacture a perfect environment to experience the divine presence. Paul writes that the word is near you, on your lips and in your heart. Salvation isn’t a distant, complicated prize we earn through our own exhausting effort; it is a gift that meets us right where we are. Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. And Paul issues that inspiring challenge to all of us as a worshipping body: How will people hear unless someone proclaims it, and how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news? Even sitting in our own living rooms looking at a computer screen today, we are called to be those beautiful feet, sharing the near, accessible, life-giving word of God with a world that is deeply tired and searching for hope.

And when we turn to our Gospel from Matthew, we see what happens when our comfortable boats get rocked by the harsh realities of life. Jesus sends the disciples ahead of him in a boat across the Galilean sea while he goes up on the mountain to pray. Batterings from the waves begin, the wind is against them, and early in the morning, Jesus walks out toward them on the water. The disciples look out into the dark, see a figure moving on the waves, and scream in terror because they think it’s a ghost. But Jesus immediately speaks straight into their panic, saying, Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid. Peter, impulsive and brave as always, says, Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water. Jesus gives that simple, radical invitation: Come.

Peter actually steps over the edge of the boat and starts walking on the water toward Jesus. But the moment he shifts his focus from Jesus to the strong wind around him, fear takes over, and he begins to sink. He cries out, Lord, save me! And Jesus doesn’t wait for Peter to figure it out or swim back on his own strength. Jesus immediately reaches out his hand, catches him, and says, You of little faith, why did you doubt? When they get into the boat, the wind completely dies down, and the disciples fall to their knees, recognizing that Jesus is truly the Son of God.

This story speaks so directly to our Briarpatch Congregation in this digital space today. We might look at our lives, our health, our country, or even our virtual gathering, and feel like we are in that small boat, tossed around by wind and waves. We might be tempted to stay huddled in what feels familiar and safe, terrified of stepping out into the unknown. But Jesus doesn’t call us to stay trapped in our comfort zones. He meets us right in the middle of the storm and invites us to step out on the water with him. Walking by faith doesn’t mean the wind stops blowing or that we will never stumble. It means knowing that when we sink, when our anxiety overwhelms us, and when our human strength gives out, there is a hand immediately reaching down into the deep to catch us and lift us up.

Where are the stormy waters in your life today? What is the pit or the wind that makes you feel like you are sinking? Hear the good news of the Gospel today. The God who preserved Joseph in the pit, the God whose word is as close as your own breath, and the God who reaches out on the stormy sea is right here with us in this Zoom gathering. We don’t have to fear the wind, and we don’t have to pretend we have it all together. Let’s take heart, step out of our boats, fix our eyes on Jesus, and trust that his hand will hold us fast through every storm, from this time forth and forevermore.

Amen.