Sermons

“Seek the Lord and Rejoice”

Psalm 105:1-5; Matthew 14:22-33 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – August 11, 2017

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might seek you in all things and accept your grace whenever we are failing. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

As I explained last Sunday, we are in the middle of three weeks of reflecting on miracle stories, not to determine if or how they happened, but rather to glean clues about what it means to follow Jesus. Today’s miracle story takes us to the Sea of Galilee, so if you don’t mind, we’ll dive right in.

There is something I need for us to notice as we begin. At the beginning of the passage we read last week, which is the one immediately preceding the verses we read today, it tells us that Jesus was trying to get some alone time. Verse 13 of chapter 14 reads, “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.” But do you remember what happened next? Did he get the quiet time for prayer he was craving? No. No, he did not. A huge crowd of people showed up, and Jesus spent all day healing them from their diseases. Then, as night was approaching, when the disciples suggested it was time to send folks away to get their supper, Jesus said what? “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” So then they served an evening meal for 10,000 people, and God only knows how long that took. So Jesus, having tried to slip away for some solitude, spent the day healing, the evening feeding, and did all the saying good-bye himself, before he finally made it up the mountain to pray. He didn’t abandon his goal of seeking communion with God, but he also didn’t let it get in the way of the things that emerged right in front of him, demanding his loving response.

I point all of this out to explain that though I was all set to give a neat, tidy sermon about seeking God and having a personal relationship with Jesus, something emerged right in front of us, demanding our loving response. If we’re going to try to be like Jesus, we will need to deal with it. If we’re going to explore this miracle story this morning, we’re going to have to read it in light of what happened yesterday in Charlottesville, Virginia. So let’s get to it.

There are two important things to notice as the action unfolds. The disciples were on a boat, and the boat was caught in something of a storm. This is true of us too. We’re all in the same boat; we’re all in this together. By virtue of our baptism, we’re all sailing along together – Gentile and Jew, slave and free, male and female. Or as many have seen fit to clarify in the last 24 hours, “there is no room in the gospel for white supremacy.” I would like to think I don’t really need to say much more about this point. But one analysis of the events in Virginia would suggest that the church has not been nearly as explicit in its teaching about the evil and sin of racism as it needs to be. How else could so many marching to promote hate somehow claim the name of Christ? So let us be clear: those who follow Jesus must continually be repenting of the racism that seeps into our hearts from a society insidiously built on racist systems. We must call out the sins of racism and renounce the evils of white supremacy wherever they arise, whether in Virginia or Washington or our own hearts. We’re all on this boat together, and if we can’t embrace that truth, we’re going down.

So there’s the boat. And then there’s the storm. I don’t think any of us need help recognizing that part. The last 48 hours in Charlottesville. The past couple of weeks of escalating rhetoric regarding North Korea. The past seven weeks when we’ve learned about the realities of the occupation of Palestine from a first-hand witness. The last year and more of division and acrimony and gridlock in our nation. The illnesses, the family trauma, the losses that we’ve experienced in our own lives. There is no doubt that storms are raging. Things are certainly ripe for a miracle.

And then Jesus appears. And here’s where things get tricky. As church-going people, we’re programmed to assume that when Jesus appears, we all breathe a sigh of relief and give thanks. But that’s not what happened in this story. And exploring this moment could give us some insight into our current moment. “When the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear.” What would it have looked like if the disciples had gotten stuck in that moment? What if they had refused to recognize Jesus, because their fear took such hold in their hearts that they gave all their energy to convincing one another that the presence approaching them on the sea was a malevolent force from the underworld, come to destroy them?

Not to oversimplify, but I would submit to you that white supremacy is a system grounded in fear. Obviously, it’s more complicated than that, but what if, at root, white supremacy is a mindset and societal structure that is based on the fear that I can’t be “enough” unless someone else is “less than”? What if all the divisions and categories and mythologies of those who would seek “racial purity” and a “white nation” are hatched from the same egg of fear of not being good enough? Of being reduced? Of being “replaced”, as we heard directly from the mouths of neo-Nazis yesterday? What if their fear is so overwhelming that they can’t see salvation walking toward them, in the form of love, because they’ve convinced themselves that the God of love is a ghost coming to spook them?

Let us give thanks that the story doesn’t end there. It may be a bit soon to say this, but I have hope even for the salvation of neo-Nazis. God has worked out stranger, more surprising conversions before. The storms causing fear in your life are hopefully not as extreme as those of white supremacists, but we must be vigilant not to let any fear keep us from recognizing Jesus when he’s walking into our lives. Let us always be ready to hear those words of assurance: “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

It really would have worked well to make this sermon about a personal relationship with Jesus, because the perspective gets narrower and narrower, the further in we get. We start with Jesus surrounded by crowds. Then there are just the disciples. And by the second paragraph, the story has zeroed in on Peter. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” I don’t know if you’ve had this moment in your life or not, but it’s a familiar trope, the if-then bargain with God.

As per usual, Jesus takes it in stride, if you’ll pardon the pun. Yes, there are storms raging. Yes, Jesus is out there in the midst of them. Yes, it would be great if we would leave the relatively safety of our boat behind and join him. And yes, he’s willing to prove the point by inviting us out there. “Come,” he said. And sometimes we do. Sometimes we risk getting involved, whether it’s making ourselves vulnerable in an attempt to reconcile a broken relationship, or speaking up at work when racism tries to disguise itself as humor, or flat-out standing up to white supremacy, rejecting hatred, teaching our children what love really looks like, and protecting the targets of violence. Sometimes we risk getting out of the boat and walking toward love.

What’s important once we’re out there is that we remember by whose power we’re able to move forward. What’s important is that we keep our eyes on Jesus, the embodiment of God’s love. It was when he “noticed the strong wind” that Peter started to sink. If we give the forces of evil too much airtime, we’ll get distracted from the force keeping us afloat. “You of little faith,” Jesus calls Peter, and usually we assume this is a gentle chiding. But just a few verses earlier, Jesus was teaching us about the mustard seed. It turns out Jesus can do amazing things with a “little faith”. As it turns out, Peter didn’t drown. As it turns out, when they got in the boat, the wind ceased.

Jesus is out there in the struggle. Jesus was in that church Friday night, surrounded by men with torches shouting hatred. Jesus was walking beside Heather Heyer when she was mowed down by James Fields’ car. Jesus is even now approaching white supremacists, hoping to God they will recognize him this time instead of demonizing and rejecting him. Jesus is inviting us to step out in faith. And there will be times when we will do so, and we’ll keep our eyes on Love and we’ll do amazing things. And there will be other moments when our feet will slip, and we’ll cry out, “Lord, save me!” and he will.

It might be nice if our relationship with Jesus could just be quiet moments on mountaintops. But if scripture is any guide, we’re only going to find him there occasionally. Jesus is in the crowd, healing, feeding, saving. Jesus is in the storm, daring us to be as bold as we dream we could be, knowing that his hand is always there to pull us up from the depths. Jesus is Love walking toward us, quite possibly in a guise we won’t recognize at first. “Take heart,” he says, “It is I. Do not be afraid.” Let us step out boldly in faith, to share the love of Christ, renouncing evil and proclaiming peace. Alleluia and Amen.