Scripture readings: Psalm 104:24-26; Matthew
14:22-33
Photos from Southern California, June 2012 |
That being said; I love the ocean. I lived about a
mile from it for over five years during the time I served my first church on
the south coast of Oregon .
But I don’t seem to manage to get to the ocean any more than once a year, or
once every two years.
If I love the ocean so much, why haven’t I been on
the ocean? It’s almost embarrassing. I don’t think it is because I am afraid.
It is because I have either been too poor, or too cheap to go. And (just as
truthfully) I have not gone out on the ocean because I have been too busy, too
preoccupied, too distracted with other things.
The sea that the people of the Bible liked the best
was the Sea of Galilee . That is probably
because it is not an ocean at all, it’s only a great big lake. The people of Israel were
awestruck by the real ocean. It was majestic. It was huge, and it reminded them
of the power of God. But they were afraid of it.
It meant danger. It represented chaos and death, and
all the uncontrollable and the undependable in life. The ocean was the place
where you could lose everything, including yourself.
The ocean means a lot to me. It’s one of the most
serene and restful places to be. And then, I have stood on the shore of the
ocean in times of storm and seen the trunks of huge trees tossed in the air by
the raging surf. I have seen waves break on the cliffs and send plumes of spray
over a hundred feet up and over the tops of those cliffs.
I once spent hours in an emergency shelter in my
small, coastal town, waiting for news of an approaching tsunami. The emergency
point where everyone was waiting was, as we all knew, only ten feet above sea
level. We waited there as we were told, but we felt strangely vulnerable.
So I have watched the ocean and had some experience
of its majesty, its power, and its fearsomeness.
I have never counted them, but I wouldn’t be
surprised to find that half the mentions of the ocean, in the Bible, are
negative ones, fearful ones. They are full of the notions of all the things
that could go wrong.
The people of the Bible knew that God made the ocean.
They knew that God rules the ocean. They accepted the fact (technically) God
should be able to take care of them out on the ocean. But it gave them the
shivers and they didn’t want to go there.
Very few of the people of the Bible would have been
capable of putting the ocean in a song of wonder and delight like the Psalm we
read. Very few could write words like the psalm we heard, which I am going to
read in a paraphrased version, “O, look --- the deep, wide sea, brimming with
fish past counting, sardines and sharks and salmon. Ships plow those waters,
and Leviathan, your pet dragon, romps in them.” (Psalm 104:25-26, “The Message”
by Eugene Peterson)
The difference with this writer was attitude. You
could call it mental attitude, but the writer says that it comes from God; and
that makes the attitude spiritual. It’s a thing called faith.
There was a high school kid named Ralph Asher who
wrote about his experience in track. He wrote, “Running is a mental sport. You
have to be insane to do it.”
He wrote how, in just a few months he trained to run
in a half-Marathon. He grew from barely being able to run three miles to making
the 13.1 miles of a half-Marathon. He said that there were some words by the
apostle Paul that meant a lot to him in his running. Paul wrote: “I have fought
the good fight, I have finished the race: I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy
4:7) (Ralph J. Asher, in “Devo-zine, Sept.-Oct. 2003, p. 53)
It isn’t just running that is mental, or spiritual.
If life out there is like an ocean, what does that mean to you? Is life out
there about joy, and beauty, and even fear?
The matter of making the ocean a thing of joy and
beauty is partly mental but (much more than that) it is spiritual. It is a
matter of faith. Life as an ocean is not just a mental problem. It is a gift: a
matter of faith. This is how it is with life. This is how it is with the future.
It is a matter of the confidence we call faith.
When Peter stepped out on the water of the stormy Sea
of Galilee, in the middle of the night, to walk with Jesus, and Jesus said to
him, “O, you of little faith,” I think Jesus was joking. Peter had dared to do
a daring thing because Jesus said, “Come!” He did it for Jesus. He wouldn’t do
it for anyone else.
The Sea of Galilee
had always been Peter’s life. But he would never dream of walking on it,
without Jesus, so he dared to do a daring thing, and it looked a lot like
faith.
There are a lot of things about Peter, and about this
part of the story, that loving parents would not want their kids to imitate. It
does seem that Peter is a person who is reckless and takes unnecessary risks. Just
like his walking on the water, on more than one occasion Peter got in way over
his head. Parents don’t want their kids to imitate that.
Just being a fisherman could be (and still is)
dangerous. You kids! We don’t want you to do dangerous things, not unless they
are great, good things, and not unless you believe that these great, good
things are the very things that you are really and truly called to do.
One thing you can say for Peter is that he was always
willing to stretch. He was always making mistakes, and he was always learning
from them (although it took some time for that learning to show). Sometimes it
might seem that he had little faith, but he was always growing in faith.
Parents might want me to point out that Peter made a
mistake when he thought that he would be in no danger at all if he went out on
the water with Jesus. He seemed to think that there would be no risk to his
risky behavior if Jesus was with him.
Peter found, by experience, that this was not true.
Going with Jesus was often risky behavior. Faith could mean taking a risk that
was a real risk.
In Jesus we see the behavior of a God who did the
daring and dangerous deed of going from heaven, to earth, to hell (to hell, at
least for a visit, after his crucifixion). He did this daring and dangerous
deed for the world he loved, and for each one of us. In Jesus, God did not make
safety or comfort his priority. He did not take his own glory seriously.
Although he was God, he became human in Jesus. He
became a servant who died for the sins of the world. He died as a daring deed
to win you and give you life: live abundant and everlasting. So what would it
mean to follow him? What does it mean to have faith in a God like that?
You might follow Jesus and sink. But again, I
believe, that although you may sink with Jesus, with Jesus you will never be
sunk. That’s how it went with Peter. That makes the difference. Faith means
knowing that (with Jesus), whatever happens, you are not sunk.
Something worth doing has been done and, from that
point, there is always a next thing that can be done. Faith has a clear head to
assess what that next thing is, that you will do with Jesus.
Peter grew as a result of his adventure. His growth
went two ways. He understood himself better; that is, he had a clearer idea,
now, of what he was made of. And, secondly, Peter knew Jesus much better.
Self confidence is very helpful, but self confidence can
sometimes make you forget yourself. Peter grew, and his life ripened, when he
discovered his own limitations. He knew what he could do and what he probably
couldn’t do, and he dared to do a thing worth doing anyway. In this way he grew
in his confidence in the Lord. Peter grew in that gift called faith.
There is a self confidence that comes when you begin
to learn (as Peter was only beginning to learn) that his life was a miracle and
he could live in the joy of what Jesus gave him to do. That was something he
could have confidence in.
Peter, I think, wanted his life to be a miracle. It
was the very thing Jesus offered when he told Peter, “Come, follow me.” Peter
wanted to be extraordinary. And I hope you do too.
We see, from the story, that the ambition of being
extraordinary is a scary ambition. Some people have handled it far worse than
Peter. This is often because they don’t understand that life is a miracle. There
is a book by Wendell
Some people seem to never know this. Sometimes the
curse of growing up is losing the ability to see that you are a miracle in the
making, and that everyone else is too.
People get bogged down, and stressed out, and
burdened. They misunderstand the purpose for which God has made them. People
lose their sense of wonder and the lights go out. This is a horrible mistake.
It is a thing that God does not intend for human life; for the lights to go
out.
Peter was often foolish, and reckless. He often wildly
overestimated himself, and overestimated his faith; but, on the waves of the Sea of Galilee , Peter did something that no other human
being has ever done. Having so little faith, he did walk on water with Jesus.
And Peter went on to make many other mistakes and learn from them, too. Maybe
that is what made him a miracle.
The Bible does not tell us to be optimists or
pessimists. It tells us to be people of faith. Just as true athletes know that
sports is not just physical but mental, some actually know that sports can be
spiritual.
So it is with life. Nine people out of ten may see no
wonder out there, or in themselves. They might accomplish a lot of things. They
might make a lot out of themselves, but they are doing this with the lights
out. They are still only dog paddling, staying afloat, treading water in the ocean of God ; in the ocean of faith.
What I hope and pray for you is this: that you know
for yourself that the world is God’s ocean and you are God’s child called to
launch out on the waves, or walk on them. Don’t just tread water. Have faith,
and keep walking, and maybe you’ll wind up walking on water. Someday, I
believe, that you will look back and see that this is exactly what you have
done.
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