Friday, February 19, 2010

Εγω ειμι

Matthew 14:22-33

Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. 

This story begins with what Stephen Colbert calls a "Threat Down" - a list of threats facing parties in question. And we meet our parties in question - Jesus’ disciples - right here in the midst of the unfriendliest of circumstances, right when they’re facing a threat-down that would leave even the most self-respecting of former fishermen worried and afraid.

The disciples have just left Jesus alone to pray after a long day of teaching and feeding the multitudes, and it isn’t long before the sun goes down, the winds start whooing, the waves start waving, and pretty soon, the little boat they’re waiting in starts to shift out onto the water...without their leader.

Just when it seems like it can’t get any worse, who shows up but a ghost.

Or so they thought.

During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear. 

This is a story about fear. It’s the kind of fear that gives you the shakes and ties your tongue and steals your appetite, the kind that wakes you up in the middle of the night with a knot in your stomach and a worry in your heart that maybe everything you love isn’t safe after all. And it’s at this point, at the height of a knee-knocking fear, that Jesus says something important to his disciples, to you, to me:

"Take courage! I am. Don't be afraid." 

Amidst all the hundreds and some-odd commands in the Bible, this one comes up by far the most:

Do. Not. Fear.

I think the command about fear keeps resurfacing because God knows just how much we do fear. As a people, we’re afraid of everything from public speaking to peanut butter. The whole world seems to make us afraid: the waiting room, the verdict, the answer, the diagnosis, the future, the relationship, the commitment, the wind and the waves, they all make us afraid.

So Christ reassures us. Take courage. Don’t be afraid because, he says, I Am.

So many translators have turned this into a cute reassurance: “Take heart! It is I!” or “Be of good cheer!  I am here!” And while I’m sure it would still be comforting to find out that what you thought was a fiend is actually a friend, Jesus is saying something infinitely more profound. Because what Jesus says is "I Am" - the name God revealed to Moses at the burning bush.

Take courage, friends. I am God. Ssshhh. Calm down. I Am.

"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." 

There’s an important word in Peter’s response:

If. 

If it’s you…and that word, if, is dripping with fear and doubt.

If is used this way several other times in Matthew. The first few occur when Satan is tempting Jesus in the desert. The last, when Jesus is hanging on the cross. If you are the son of God, come down. If you are who you say you are...prove it.

And Peter joins in, as if to say, “How will I know it's really you? Never mind that earlier, you fed 5,000 people with just a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish. Never mind that you’re walking on water. If you’re God, make me do it, too. Tell me to come to you. If you’re God...prove it. ”

And Jesus responds:

"Come." 

Because it’s him. It really is him.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"

It takes courage to walk toward Jesus in the midst of fear, in what seems like an impossible situation, when maybe you’re not even sure if it’s really him. But Peter steps out of the boat and onto the water.

And sinks.

But Jesus catches him.

We know Peter will fear again. He denies Jesus three times because he’s afraid of the consequences of being identified with him.

Faith doesn't always banish our fear.
Faith doesn't always banish our fear.

But it does teach us whose hand will catch us when we’re falling.

When I was a little girl, I had little girl fears. I was afraid of spiders and snakes and being kidnapped by gypsies. As I got older, my fears evolved. I started to fear rejection, disappointment, losing the people I loved or letting those people down. I started to fear change.

Fear is something so many of us experience every day. We fear big things and small things and everything in between - tornadoes and terrorism and World War III. Some of our fears come from within and some from without. We are afraid that we won’t be able to provide. We are afraid of unrequited love or of never finding love at all. Some of us fear that maybe our dreams don’t match God’s plans for us, that we’ve misunderstood God’s call...or that maybe we haven’t. Some of us fear being exposed for who we really are. Some of us are afraid of the work it will take to get healthy and whole.

Our fears are real, they’re potent, and in so many ways, they have the power to shape us, to drive us, to transform us. Our fears keep us wading in the wind and waves of insecurity.  They keep us from forgiving or from asking for forgiveness. They drive us to manipulate or to grasp at control. Fear keeps sin in the dark, relationships from being mended, wounds from being healed, gifts from being realized, truth from being told. Fear keeps us inside where it’s safe instead of out where the work is. It seams together fig leaves and keeps us in hiding and makes Jesus look like a ghost instead of like God.

This is a story about us. Because if we’re really honest with ourselves, so much of our fear comes from the if, this idea that maybe, just maybe, Jesus isn’t who he says he is. We fear that his promises won't stand on water.

But it’s in all these moments, what can feel like the worst of moments, at the height of fear, that we find Jesus walking toward us:

“Don’t be afraid. I Am.”

Even when we can't recognize him over the wind and the waves, it’s him. It really is him.

His promises stand when everything around us seems to be sinking, and when we grasp the hand that’s reaching out to us, when we finally realize that Christ is exactly who he says he is, our fear takes on a different form.

And this new fear, the fear of the Lord, it’s real. It’s potent. It has the power to shape us, to drive us, to transform us.

Everywhere in Scripture, we see this big and powerful God who reaches out his hand to the small things, the little things:

This God, huge and mysterious, numbers both the stars and the hairs on our heads.

This God Almighty, wearing glory for clothing and cloaked in unapproachable light, heals the sick by the hem of his garment.

This God, to whom belongs the heavens - even the highest ones - who can be contained by no universe or temple we can build, this God defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow and loves the foreigner residing among us.

This God, the infinite creator of 108 billion people so far and counting, the God whose fingers formed the moon and milky way and the Eagle Nebula, who breathes in and exhales and out comes a star, this God cares more about your every breath, your every thought, your every hope, your every fear, than anyone else in all the universe, even more than you do.

That’s a God worthy of fear and praise.

This is a story about Christ, mighty and awesome, the Great I Am, who controls the wind and the waves - and sometimes, for reasons we don't understand, waits to quiet the storm until after we can see him better - at the same time, reaches out his hand when we’re scared and sinking, saying: “Take courage. I Am. Don’t be afraid.”

And walks with us through the storm.

Truly, this is the Son of God.