Ninth Sunday After Trinity

1 Kings 19.9-18; Romans 10.5-15; Matthew14.22-33

Sermon by Matthew Bullimore

Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught Peter, saying to him: ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’

 What’s the tone of Jesus’ voice there, do you think? Is it a stern rebuke? Is it resigned? Exasperated? Or is it a still, small voice – almost a gentle encouragement – more of a ‘why doubt, if there’s no need?’

In my mind, it’s become the latter. That’s what I hear as the wind ceases and the disciples marvel; as their fear evaporates and is replaced with awe in the stillness.

 At the beginning of this Gospel episode, Jesus retires to a quiet place to pray. By contrast to the quietness of the mountain top, the disciples find themselves caught up in a squall. We’re not told that this makes them afraid. They’re fishermen and so perhaps storms are par for the course. No, it’s when Jesus walks out to them on the water that they are frightened, terrified even.

 Then Jesus speaks out: Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

 As we know, this is a command often heard in Scripture – in the law, spoken through prophets, by angels, by Jesus. Do not be afraid. As a command, it’s a strange one. Not always effective:

Don’t be afraid, it’s just a film, the monster’s just special effects.

Don’t be afraid, this roller coaster is perfectly designed for this.

Don’t be afraid, air travel is the safest form of transport.

 As a command it only really ever works if you trust the person who makes it. And perhaps especially if they are there. They need to be a reassuring presence. So Jesus identifies himself as he says it. Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

 The response Peter makes to this command relies on it being Jesus there. If it is you, command me to walk on the water. I think this response is brilliant. Peter, having been afraid, but now commanded not to be, finds his courage and asks to be commanded to walk on the water. As if he’s boldly saying, Lord make me bolder. If it is you, if you tell me to, then I could do it. Tell me to be bold and give me an occasion to step out in trust.

 And Jesus commands. Peter steps out. But then he feels the strong wind. He becomes fearful and cries out to be saved. Jesus catches him and then says those words: You of little faith, why did you doubt.

 What are we being given to understand here? Surely to have faith enables us to do what we couldn’t do when we were afraid. But perhaps is it also that if we do step out, but fail, then we will be saved. Everything will be OK. Jesus will always be there to catch us and rescue us.

 On one level, I suppose I believe there is a fundamental truth there. That ultimately, things are in hand. This is Jesus, this is God with us, and Christianity teaches – somewhat absurdly and counter-intuitively – that we should believe that all things shall be well in the end.

 But if we’re to read Scripture well, we ought not to get carried away with anything too simple or as glib: Have faith and nothing will go awry.

 At the end of John’s Gospel, after the resurrection, when Jesus is commissioning Peter to lead the Church, his final words to him predict Peter’s death at the hands of others. Rather bluntly he tells him: Peter this life will crucify you, now follow me.

 Today’s Gospel looks a little different from that perspective. In the light of Jesus’ resurrection, we find the anchor for our hope that all things shall be well. Death and fear are conquered. But, as Jesus’ final words to Peter suggest, death and fear are still realities to be faced down in our own life.

 Faith, then, looks not like an entry ticket to a happy and comfortable life – the one where Jesus will always catch us. Faith looks like living in such a way that we believe the unbelievable – that all things shall be well. That the reality that underlies all things, beyond death and fear, is goodness and love.

 But being saved is not being rescued from every danger, every enemy, every misfortune. Being saved is – for us, now – to be able to live, to live boldly in a dangerous and frightening world. Salvation is experienced as a life that has seen fear and finds it cast down, disempowered. It is to live boldly, trustful, and unashamed – as St Paul says. It is to live beyond the reach of fear because we have been grasped by goodness and are learning to trust.

 Which is why I’m so struck by those words of Peter. Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you upon the waters.

 Lord, make me bolder. Command it. Because I will trust if you command. And I want to step out boldly.

 Having been commanded not to be afraid, Peter finds his courage. And he is bold: to ask to be commanded to be bolder! That’s a bold request. To ask to be commanded to walk out in the face of fear – that’s a terrifying prayer to utter.

 And even if he is afraid thereafter, it’s still his small triumph. He can always ask again. Make me bolder. Every time it’s asked, it’s another small defeat of fear.

 I know that I’m not a bold person. I like safety, staying within the rules. I prefer the easy way. I’m very happy to let others go first. Where angels fear to tread, so do I. Who dares wins – so I’m happy to come in at a safe seventh. I am not bold.

 So I want the boldness to pray: Lord, if it is you, command me to step out. I would like the boldness to pray to be bolder. I would like that faith that gives us the courage to live boldly. That encourages us to hold the fear, to own it, to admit it, and then to say, command me Lord. I want the boldness to ask to be commanded to take a step into the void, into the wind, into the storm and into the darkness of a world that in so many ways can be so crucifyingly awful. I want to trust that, despite the darkness that overwhelms, our underlying reality is good and beautiful. And that’s by no means to say I believe we will be spared the darkness. Quite the opposite. But I believe we can say that we are saved when we’re no longer afraid of it.

 I want us to be faithfully bold. Taking the harder road. Standing up. Speaking the difficult word. Willing to be uncomfortable, to make the choices that don’t comfort us.

 Let us be bold. As a Church. Even knowing we may sometimes succumb to the fear and fail and retreat to our old comforts. Let us then ask again:

 Lord, if it is you, command us not to be afraid. And if you do so, then we might just have the boldness to ask you to command us to take that first step from fear into trust and salvation.

Amen.

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