Matthew 14:22-33

Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’

Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshipped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’

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I’ve been living in a constant state of fear for the last six months. It’s true that I’m a person who struggles with anxiety all the time, but to my credit, there is a lot to be afraid of right now.

I remember a night in late March, at the beginning of the pandemic - you know, when grocery store aisles were empty – after everyone in the house had gone to sleep. But I couldn’t fall asleep. I was imagining the riots would begin at any moment. That scary, armed men in giant trucks would start rolling down our street, demanding that we surrender our toilet paper and canned goods. I could take a deep breath and remind myself that no one was interested in the 11 rolls of toilet paper in our pantry. But I couldn’t make my heart stop racing. I couldn’t get to sleep.

6 months later, I’m able to get to sleep a bit easier, but I often wake up at 2am, mind racing, heart pounding. It’s almost impossible to get back to sleep at that point. Especially if I am foolish enough to pick up my phone and look at what’s happening in the world. As if a global pandemic weren’t enough, the headlines are full of reports of racial injustice, police brutality, enormous income disparity, the list goes on and on. There is a lot of political and social unrest at this moment like I’ve never experienced in my life, and it makes me anxious and fearful. There is much to be afraid of.

I think it’s similar to what Jesus and the disciples were experiencing in the days and months before this moment where Jesus walks on water and Peter does too. Jesus and the disciples were observing similar political and social unrest. Just since Jesus had called the disciples to follow him, the disciples had heard Jesus’ foretelling of daughter turning against mother and son against father, the threat of persecution, and the warnings to the unrepentant cities of Chorazin, Bethsaida, Tyre, Sidon and Capernaum. And they had seen the people of Nazareth reject Jesus as he returned to his home town to teach. And, most frightening, they had retrieved the body of John the Baptist, Jesus’ own cousin, who was beheaded for criticizing King Herod and his wife. There was much to be afraid of.

So Jesus took some time for self-care. He went up to the mountain to pray, to grieve the death of John the Baptist, to be alone after miraculously feeding over 5000 people. And then, he came down from the mountain, back into the fray. He walked right back into the raging waters. And Peter, after recognizing that it was Jesus in front of him, steps out of the boat into the water as well.

Why? Why would Peter step out of the comfort and safety of the boat? Jesus was on his way to the boat. He would have gotten there eventually. The disciples had just spent the night weathering a terrible storm, trying to keep the boat from capsizing. Why wouldn’t Peter just wait for Jesus to walk all the way over to the boat and hop in?

According to the writers of enfleshed, a liturgical resource I subscribe to, “our faith calls us to move towards the things we are afraid of. To see what they are teaching us, telling us, or trying to warn us about.

[Feeling the fear] is natural. It is human. It is important. It is faithful. It means we are not sticking our head in the sand and ignoring the raging seas around us and others.”

There are days that I want to stick my head in the sand. I want to ignore it all. I don’t want to get out of the boat. And the truth is, I don’t have to get out of the boat if I don’t want to. I have the white privilege, the class privilege, the economic privilege, the educational privilege, the gender identity and sexual identity privilege to just stay in the boat. If I stay in the boat, and I just work hard to make sure my own personal boat doesn’t capsize, I will be okay. My family will be okay. We will be okay. We, my friends, we can stay in the boat if we want to. But Jesus says “come.” Jesus wants us to get out of the boat. The world NEEDS us to get out of the boat.   

The world needs us to take our heads out of the sand.

The world needs us to use our privilege to walk towards our fears. Because life in the boat isn’t really life. The boat is just supposed to get us from one place in our life to the next. But sometimes, in our privilege, we make our lives in the boat. We never step out of the boat.

But there are people out there in our world who don’t even have a boat. And to ignore all those drowning people isn’t really life. When one of us is drowning, we are all drowning. In the boat, I’m drowning. The scary thing is that I just don’t know it.

The fear shows up when I realize that I’m drowning. That we are all drowning. And when once I have that realization, I can’t go back. Even when I try to forget, to ignore, my eyes pop open at 2am, mind racing, heart pounding.

So how do we make sacred space to hold the fears with care? We might need to pray and grieve and be alone. But soon, we’ll hear Jesus calling us. “Come.” And we must step out of the boat. Sometimes we’ll sink. Sometimes we’ll fail. Sometimes we’ll say the wrong thing. Sometimes we’ll do the wrong thing. And sometimes, we will get it right.

But first, we get out of the boat.