“Sink or Swim?”

A Communion Meditation Preached by

The Rev. Jean Niven Lenk

First Congregational Church of Stoughton

United Church of Christ

Last fall, the National Geographic News ran an article about a creature called the basilisk lizard.  These lizards are unusual because they are able to scurry across the surface of ponds and streams.  They do so by generating enough force with their feet that keeps their bodies upright above the water.  And it should come as no surprise to anyone who is familiar with this morning’s Gospel lesson that scientists have nicknamed this amphibian the “Jesus Lizard” because of its seeming power to walk on water.

There’s an enduring fascination with the story of Jesus walking on water, which occurs in three out of the four gospels.[1]  Of all the miracle-stories in the New Testament, this is one of the most celebrated and well known – but not, I think, because it is arguably the flashiest of Jesus’ miracles.  I think the story of Jesus walking on water is told and retold because it is full of wisdom and truth about faith.

As the story opens, the disciples are traveling by boat to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, leaving Jesus with some time to be alone with God and pray.  Once the disciples are out on the sea, however, a fierce storm blows up, and the boat is buffeted by the waves.

The Sea of Galilee was known for its sudden violent storms, and the ancient Hebrews felt so powerless in the face of its unpredictability that, in their stories and in their thinking, water represented chaos and a threatening force opposed to God.  When they wanted to stress God's authority, they spoke of Yahweh's power over the sea, as in the words of Psalm 107: "He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed."

Out in that boat on the Sea of Galilee, in that unexpected storm, that unforeseen chaos, the disciples are frightened.  But then, through the raging tempest, they see a figure; someone appears to be walking across the sea!  Who is it? they wonder; who could it be?  Perhaps a ghost?  Startled at seeing someone walk on water, they don't at first recognize Jesus.  But then he speaks to them these comforting words: "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid." 

Peter responds, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.”  And Jesus says, “Come.”  As a show of faith, Peter – impetuous as always – accepts Jesus’ invitation and tries to join him on the water.  He even succeeds for a moment or two.  But then Peter realizes just what he is doing; trying to walk on water is crazy enough in itself, but he’s trying it in the middle of a terrible storm.  Fear overtakes him, and he begins to sink.

It is the fear that sinks us.  Anyone who’s taught swimming to adult beginners knows that tense, frightened bodies sink, and the same body -- relaxed -- somehow floats.  Perhaps you know it from your own life.  The fear that paralyzes, the fear that turns a buoyant spirit into a sinking stone.  Fear that keeps you from stepping out, from growing and changing and living. 

It is the fear that sinks us.  And when the waters of chaos and confusion threaten, it’s difficult to trust Jesus’ words, “Do not be afraid.”  It is even harder to walk into the chaos and confusion when Jesus says, “Come.”

Yes, water can be dangerous.  The ancient Hebrews knew that.  But water is also the symbol of the bond Christ has made with us – the waters of baptism, the living water he offers -- refreshing, renewing, and redeeming. 

Jesus says to the disciples, and to all of us, “‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid’.”  These are welcome words in the midst of danger.  This is what the frightened child longs to hear in the dark of night.  This is what we each long to hear when it is our turn to face the valley of the shadow.  It is what a world terrified by looming terror needs to hear now.  We are not alone in our longing for the re-assuring presence of One who has power to calm the chaos and see us across to the other side. 

But it is hard to keep our focus, to live in faith, when the winds of our life are howling and the waves are overwhelming.  Peter is able to walk on water until he lets the ferocity of the wind distract him.  The text says he doubts.  The Greek word for doubt suggests “going in two directions at once.”  It is not that Peter does not trust Jesus; he does.  It is that he both trusts Jesus and fears the storm at the same time.  Even with Jesus close at hand, Peter cannot deny the howling wind and its ominous threat. 

What storm is blowing in your life right now?  Where do you feel buffeted by the winds, overcome by the chaos, inundated by water?  What is frightening you, diverting you from God; distracting you from Jesus?

When Peter begins to sink, frightened by the wind, he cries out, “Lord, save me!”  And Jesus is there, immediately reaching out his hand and catching Peter.  And when we find ourselves sinking, besieged by the waters of life, overwhelmed by chaos, beset by the winds, Jesus’ hand is there for us to grab. 

Jesus is here right now -- here in our midst.  He is here in this gathered community.  He is here in the reading of the gospel, the singing of hymns, the saying of prayers.  He is here in the bread and the wine that we will soon share. 

We can sink amid our fear.  Or we can reach out to Jesus and swim, trusting that he is always near, trusting that he will not allow us to sink, trusting that the One who calls to us “Come” also reaches out to catch us in his firm grip. 

We can sink.  Or we can swim, trusting in his promise that he is with us always, and that we need not be afraid.  Amen.