Episodes
Monday Aug 11, 2014
Farsighted Faith
Monday Aug 11, 2014
Monday Aug 11, 2014
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, August 10, 2014, the ninth Sunday after Pentecost.
Matthew 14:22-33
Crossing over from one place to another—whether the move is geographical, emotional, or intellectual—is never really a simple proposition. Sometimes what we imagine will be a short journey turns into something much more challenging because we encounter obstacles that we couldn’t have expected when we started. I can’t tell you the number of people who have said to me, “Wow, your commute to church has gotten a lot easier and quicker!” Getting from my home in NE Capitol Hill to my former church in Bowie, MD—over 20 miles away—took about 25 minutes door to door. What I have discovered is that getting to Foundry—a little over 3 miles from my home—takes about 20 minutes; and if some huge conference is happening at the Washington Convention Center, then add at least 15 additional minutes to circumnavigate all that mess. The distance—or even the familiarity of the terrain—doesn’t determine the experience of moving from one place to another. The truth is that when you step out from where you have been, you don’t know what you are going to find along the way. You step into a liminal space, an in-between space, a space of unknowing.
Being in-between, in the place of uncertainty, is not a comfortable place to be. We experience this in a variety of ways and circumstances as human beings. Moving your residence to a new place provides a good example; many if not most of you will be familiar with that deeply disorienting experience. Others might resonate more with the experience of stepping into a new vocation or job that requires you to develop new skills or to play a different role than you have played in the past—and how for a while it feels that you don’t really know what to do, or if you do know what to do, you feel uncertain of how to accomplish it. When we are faced with the death of a parent, a child, a partner, we find ourselves in a liminal place between what life has been and of deep uncertainty about how life will be, about who WE will be now. Some live daily in the stressful uncertainty of the space between paychecks or unemployment checks, wondering how to make the dollars stretch to keep food on the table and the lights on. When a debilitating illness strikes and your whole life is forced to adapt, when the company downsizes or the contract doesn’t get renewed, when what has been familiar and comforting in your church changes, when you are responsible for sick or struggling family members who live far away, when you have this nagging suspicion that something isn’t working in your life or when you’ve been trying to get yourself together but just can’t seem to work it out, in these and so many other circumstances, we find ourselves in the middle of challenge, uncertainty, and change.
And that place is deeply uncomfortable. It can feel like you have wandered right into the middle of chaos itself. In our biblical tradition and in the ancient near-eastern traditions that influenced the biblical texts, the sea—and any large body of water—were symbolic of chaos. “In the beginning…the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” (Genesis 1.1-2) The “formless void” of the “deep waters” in the original Hebrew is translated tohu wabohu, in effect “formlessness and normlessness.” Chaos. It’s unpredictable, strong, powerful, and potentially destructive…just like the sea. In the face of swirling waters and crashing waves, we become aware of our human vulnerability and impotence with searing clarity.
Today we hear that Jesus “made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side…” Jesus sent his friends to cross over chaos without him. We know from reading the story that Jesus was overdue for some time alone with God in prayer, but why couldn’t he have modeled good ministry delegation and allowed the disciples to manage the dismissal of the crowds so that he could have his prayer time, and they could still make the journey together? Did he really have to make the disciples go it alone? Haven’t they dealt with enough chaos already? Throughout the story, the disciples of Jesus live in a consistently chaotic place. They don’t stay anywhere for very long and they are constantly being asked to step out of their comfort zones and to do new things and to check their egos and to manage their expectations. They leave every familiar thing to make this journey with Jesus and the truth is that they don’t really know where they are going. They have been living in a place of deep uncertainty, revealing with regularity just how clueless they are about what Jesus is up to. And here Jesus makes them move out over the deep waters, the primordial symbol of chaos itself, on their own.
Perhaps Jesus was modeling good ministry delegation. Just last week you explored a story—the feeding of thousands of people—in which Jesus shows the disciples what they are capable of when they trust God’s abundant grace and sustaining power. Perhaps, after all they had been through together, Jesus—desirous that his disciples should grow—thinks they are ready to face this kind of vulnerability alone. And, from the text, we see that the battering waves of the sea aren’t what frighten the disciples this time (maybe they had learned from the first venture in a storm at sea when Jesus had been with them and had rebuked the waters) (Mt. 8.23-27). This time, the vision of Jesus walking toward them on the water is what makes them afraid. But as soon as they cry out, Jesus says to them, “Don’t be afraid. It’s me!” In the original Greek: “Ego eimi: I AM.” And Peter’s response has always struck me as extraordinary. Peter dares Jesus to call him out, to call him to step even closer to the chaos below. I imagine that Jesus is filled with pride at this move on the part of his disciple—because do you see what Peter is doing here? Peter doesn’t say, “OK, Jesus. If it’s you, prove it and get your ghost-lookin’ self into this boat!” Instead, Peter asks to be able to draw near to Jesus. He takes up his agency, his own God-given ability, and asks for grace to go where Jesus goes and to do what Jesus does. Sometimes Peter—in his impulsiveness—gets it right in spite of himself… And so at Jesus’ invitation Peter, already vulnerable to the battering waves, steps out of the relative safety of the boat and, for a brief moment, is empowered to do what Jesus does: to stay above the fray, to not be swallowed up by chaos. It is only when he gets distracted by the strong winds that he allows fear to pull him down. And here I love the commentary of Episcopal priest and spiritual writer, Suzanne Guthrie, who says, “Jesus’ response is often described as a rebuke but it doesn't seem like that at all to me. Playfully, Jesus compliments Peter, ‘Why did you doubt, ye of little faith? You HAD it!’”[1] Peter “HAD it!” But oh, don’t we understand all too well that moment when the strong winds of old habits and ways of thinking pull our focus and make us sink in fear?
Friends, our lives are so often fraught with change and challenge. We constantly have to navigate the in-between places, the crossing-over places. And chaos (with its henchman, fear) threatens to overtake us all the time. This, of course, is nothing new. It is part of the drama of being human. The good news today is that we know the One who is stronger than chaos and whose hand separated the waters “in the beginning” and held them back at the Red Sea; we know the one who has the power to make the seas lie down and to tread upon the deep. This is none other than our God made manifest most fully to us in Jesus the Christ. And Jesus is also the one who sees and knows all that you are facing in your life. Jesus knows where you need to cross over. Jesus knows your struggles; Jesus knows how hard you are trying; Jesus knows your giftedness and strength; Jesus knows what you have sacrificed; Jesus sees your pain; Jesus is aware of your apathy; Jesus knows your confusion; Jesus yearns to be close to you in your loneliness; Jesus grieves as you grieve. In the midst of the change and challenge and in-between places of life, Jesus is the one who draws near and sees you and speaks to you saying, “Don’t be afraid, I AM.” I am here. I am with you. I see you. I believe in you. And then Jesus calls you out, to perhaps move even closer to the chaos out of which new life springs. The good news is that, through the grace and power of Jesus, it is possible to stay above the fray, to keep the waters of chaos under your feet instead of over your head. It takes practice because the weight of our fears and our griefs and our sins—all that keeps us from peace and wholeness—act as anchors trying to pull us down into the abyss of self-doubt, confusion, cynicism, and despair. But Jesus shows us what we are capable of and Peter, for a moment, has enough faith to believe it himself. Long before we know what we are capable of, long before we have a clue about all that God is able to accomplish in us and through us, Jesus has faith in you and in me. It is a farsighted faith, clearly seeing what is far off, but still very real. Jesus sees us whole and healed; Jesus knows that you can “walk on water”—that is, that you can overcome your fears, deepen your faith, become more fully yourself, more fully human, move into deeper healing, live into your calling and into greater freedom—Jesus knows that you can walk toward whatever it is that will bring greater harmony and less chaos into your life. But here’s the thing: to walk on water you have to get out of the boat, you have to step out into a risky place, a place where you can be sure that you won’t always know what to do and where you will probably feel disoriented and where you will be painfully aware of your vulnerability and limitations, a place where you will feel very uncomfortable and where sometimes you’ll be up and other times down. But you won’t be there alone. Jesus has a habit of sending out his beloveds with companions for the journey. And while Jesus may hang back for a little while, when you begin to sink, Jesus will always prove the words of Isaiah true: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.” (Isaiah 43:1b-2a)
As we continue to move through this time of transition together as a congregation, as we strive to find the strength and grace to stay above the fray of the daily news and the violent madness of our day, as we seek to make our own personal crossings with gentleness and openness to the new life that God will bring, I pray that God will grant us a farsighted faith, a faith that can see just enough of Jesus to get us out of the boat. Fear not. God brings new life out of chaos. Fear not, by the grace of Jesus, you HAVE this!...and Jesus has you. Thanks be to God.
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