“Footsteps on the Water”
Isaiah 43:1-2; Matthew 14:23-33
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
September 10, 2017
“The disciples just don’t get it!” When the Tuesday and Wednesday Bible Study groups read the gospel according to Mark a decade ago, we said these words many times. As Mark depicts them, the disciples are almost caricatures. Over and over Jesus explains things; over and over they miss the point. We could almost hear the exasperation in Jesus’ voice. As we read Mark, we began to feel annoyed with the disciples ourselves. When would they ever get it right?
Matthew’s gospel, which the Wednesday and Thursday groups studied over the last two years, is different. The disciples still don’t get it. But in Matthew’s depiction, they are more sympathetic. As we studied, I wondered whether Matthew wanted us to identify with the disciples–with their confusion, with their frailty and fear, and also with their courage, their desire to learn, their perseverance. I started to put myself in the disciples’ shoes. I began to see them as role models–imperfect enough that I could relate to them, courageous enough that they could inspire me.
What do the biblical disciples have to teach us about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus today? What about the biblical characters that aren’t named as disciples but are faithful followers of Jesus? Then there are the disciples in the millenia since then–ancient, medieval and modern-day followers. What can we learn by following in their footsteps? How might their footsteps inform the steps we take on our journeys of faith?
These questions will shape our worship this fall. We will look at biblical disciples, at some of the faithful from the history of Edwards and Grace churches, at disciples from the wider UCC and global Christianity. I hope their footsteps will inspire us as we step out in faith.
This morning we begin with Peter–the disciple whom Jesus names “the Rock,” the who dares to identify Jesus as the Messiah, the one who denies him and runs away from danger, the one who emerges as a leader in the early church. Some of the complexity of Peter’s character is reflected in today’s passage about walking on the water.
At the beginning of the story, Peter, along with the other disciples, is frightened. Their boat is being battered by the waves, the wind is against them, they are without their leader. Suddenly they see a ghost walking toward them. They are terrified.
It is not a ghost, but Jesus. “Take heart,” he calls out, “it is I. Do not be afraid.”
Peter does take heart. His teacher, his healer, his friend is here. Assured of Jesus’ presence, confident in his power, Peter finds courage to try something he never imagined he could do. He steps out of the boat and walks on water. What an amazing expression of the power of faith!
If the story ended there, I wouldn’t find it particularly inspiring. It’s great to read about someone with that much faith, but I can’t identify with it. Fortunately for me, the story continues. Peter, out there on the water, suddenly realizes what he is doing. Fear takes over and he begins to sink. He cries out for help. Jesus reaches out his hand and catches him. Together they get into the boat.
Now that is a story I can relate to. Moments of courage followed by fear. Faith and doubt intermingled. Times we discover we are capable of so much more than we thought; other times we come face-to-face with our need for help. The promise that, with Jesus, we can find strength to try what seems impossible; the assurance that when we sink, Jesus will reach out a hand to help us.
When they are both safe in the boat, Jesus says to Peter, “You of little faith. Why did you doubt?” We usually hear these words as a rebuke. I prefer to hear them as encouragement. “Look at what you can do with just a little bit of faith! Keep trying! Keep risking! I’m here to help you.”
I love this passage for its reminder that discipleship is about trying and failing, trusting and doubting, and coming back to try again. The actual image of walking on water, though, doesn’t inspire me. I’m not sure why I’d want to walk on water, or how it has anything to do with living our faith.
Rick’s suggestion that we pair this text with our anthem, “Wade in the Water,” has helped me claim a slightly different image for discipleship. Perhaps following Jesus isn’t about walking on water, but about finding the courage to wade into the troubled waters of our world in order to transform our lives and care for our neighbors.
Our version of “Wade in the Water” this morning alluded to three wading stories. The first one comes from a clip I saw on BBC International–a young man from Texas using his paddle board to bring his neighbors to higher ground. To be a disciple of Jesus is to use what you have to do what you can to help a neighbor in need. You might get wet, but you do it anyway. You might feel as though the problem is too massive and your paddle board is too small–but you try anyway.
Then there are the wildebeests. As I mentioned, they pay attention to the lightning they see at night to determine where the grass might be greenest. They move as a herd, often in single-file, to get to the green grass. They don’t have a leader, though, so when they get to the river they break rank. They know the river is dangerous, full of hungry crocodiles. The wildebeests mill around on the banks of the river for hours, even for days, until one wildebeest finally leaps into the water and swims across. All the others follow, re-forming their straight line, across the river.
To be a disciple–a follower of Jesus–is to take action. Jesus calls us to break through the inertia that can affect any community, wildebeest or human. To be a disciple is to be willing to lead in order to promote the common good. It is to dare to forge an alternative path–hope instead of cynicism, compassion instead of hate, generosity instead of greed. It is risky, for there really are crocodiles in the river. It is worth the risk, for the community needs green grass.
The third story–the first one we sang about–comes from my time in Kenya in 1984. I was staying at the main branch of the African Holy Zionist Church when word came that a baby had died in another village. We dropped all our plans. We walked for hours, until we came to a river. We took off our shoes, hitched up our skirts and our robes, and waded through the water. We walked more, until we arrived at the village and attended a huge funeral for a tiny baby. Then we walked back home, through the river again.
The experience stuck with me. In the 1980’s, infant mortality in rural Kenya was extremely high. I wondered how often church members had to drop everything to go comfort a grieving family. I imagined it might have been tempting to stop going, to narrow their circle of caring so they didn’t have to grieve so often. But they didn’t. They mourned the life of each baby who died; they honored every human life as precious.
That is what it means to be a disciple of Jesus–to disrupt our own plans in order to honor the sacredness of every life. It may take the form of wading through the water to comfort a grieving family. Or it may mean standing on a street corner with “All are welcome” signs, writing letters to the editor to support dreamers, partnering with a church in Kenya to fight infant mortality, joining an anti-racism group, befriending a lonely child.
Peter walked on water. He dared to step out of the boat because he knew Jesus was there. He went from fear to courage back to fear and ultimately to trust that he did not have to do it alone. He was a disciple–trying to follow Jesus, succeeding and failing and trying again.
Being a disciple of Jesus does not mean that we are expected to walk on water. Jesus has something more important in mind for us. We are called instead to wade into the waters of our troubled world–to use what we have to do what we can to help our neighbors, to take risks for the common good, to disrupt our own lives to uphold the worth of each person.
As we step out into the water, we will, like Peter, find ourselves moving between fear and courage, confidence and vulnerability. We will be overwhelmed at times by the water’s turbulence–and we will be inspired to wade in anyway. We will occasionally find ourselves in over our heads– and we will discover a hand reaching out to help us. We will be acutely aware of how little faith we have– and we will be amazed by how far a little faith can go.
Let us dare to be Jesus’ disciples, following him into the troubled waters, trusting we are never alone, confident that our little faith is enough. Amen.