Faith
requires us to step out into the storm.
There
was a storm gathering around the disciples.
They must have seen it. For Jesus
seemed to attract a storm. Like clouds
gathering on the horizon people gathered around him. As they gathered they brought their needs:
food, water, healing, forgiveness, wholeness, life and peace. Like strong winds their needs were
overwhelming. But Jesus responded to
them.
As
his popularity grew so did the rumble of thunder: thunder from the religious
leaders of his day. Thunder of
skepticism, disbelief, jealousy and envy.
Rumbles of rejection even from his own people. For Jesus was gaining popularity and making
claims that seemed to be simply blasphemous.
How could they be true? And so
the storm started to gather and pick up strength.
Lightening
also struck. Lightening that took the
life of his cousin, John. Lightening
that seemed to strike pretty close to the other disciples, too. For if John could lose his life, why should
they be kept safe? And so the storm
gathered.
But
they said yes to follow him. That day on
the seashore when he asked them to leave everything and follow, they said
yes. It seemed that faith required them to
say yes to step out into the storm.
It
was no different that night on the boat.
The storms had gathered around the disciples and they were scared. Scared of capsizing; scared of drowning and
of death. Their fear only grew when they
saw the man approach on the water. Was
it a dream? A nightmare? Was it a ghost?
They cowered in fear for it was too much for them. But that beautiful voice broke through the
winds. That voice they had come to
trust. That voice that whispered to
them, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” They knew that voice. They knew what it meant.
So
Peter in his glory, in his attempts at being a leader, remembering his first
call on that seashore asks Jesus if he can still follow. For he knows what faith requires. Faith required him to step out into the
storm.
I
don’t think that our situation today is much different than that which is
described in the Gospel. For the storm
continues to build around us too. The
thunder rolls and lightening strikes in Iraq and so many other parts of the
world where converts to Christianity, and really many of the faithful, are persecuted
and crucified in the heat of the desert sun. Their bodies hang on trees much like that of
their founder. They are evidence that the storm still rolls on.
The
earth also cracks and shakes as deeper divisions happen in our church:
divisions of ideology; divisions of power, divisions of class. These divisions
threaten to tear our own temple asunder.
And
there are the rains of skepticism and atheism that seem to flood our
faith. They accompany winds that blow
fiercely against the shelter of our own Christian lives as we attempt to live
our faith in a place where it is not always so easy to do.
But
in the midst of the storm Jesus says the same thing to us. He whispers to us: Take courage, it is I; do
not be afraid. Come, and follow me. For faith requires us to step out into the
storm.
And
many have stepped out into the storm. No
matter how dark or scary it had been, they were brave and courageous. Their witness assures us that there are
followers of Christ who are willing to step out of the boat. From St. Peter to St. Mary, St. Kwinten to
the martyrs of our own day, many have heeded the call of the Lord—they understood
that faith required them to step out into the storm. And these brave witnesses
are all around us, too.
The
couple that remains open to having children and raising them in the faith steps
out onto the water in the midst of the storm.
The
student who decides to leave her own country to pursue a degree in a foreign
land amid a foreign language in order to better her country and her family
steps out onto the water in the midst of the storm.
The
theologian who attempts to think with the church even though it is not always
the most popular thing to do steps out onto the water in the midst of the
storm.
The
community that gathers for Mass as the church bells ring, bells whose symbols
have lost their meaning in the present culture, when they gather they step out
onto the water in the midst of the storm.
Over
and over again disciples throughout the ages have headed the call of Christ—even
in the midst of the most tumultuous storms—and been courageous enough to step
out onto the water and follow him.
But. But my brothers and sisters I believe we must
also be aware of what happens next in today’s gospel. For most likely, if we step out into the
storm to follow Christ, we may inevitably begin to sink. Perhaps we even need to sink.
Peter
was certainly confident in his will to follow Christ. But he began to sink. And this would not be his only moment of
weakness. And down through the ages the
greatest of saints stepped out onto the water and began to sink. For sometimes the storm is too much. Sometimes our faith is just not that
strong
In
our own time we will probably begin to sink, too. In the midst of cancer we will curse God and wonder
where he is. Waking up to attend to our
children for the third time in one night we will wonder if the sacrifice was
worth it. Having the opportunity to
stand up for our faith we will hide safely in the background, blending into the
crowd. Overcome by the lure of an overly
sexualized culture, we will have our moments of weakness. Overwhelmed from leaving the familiar we will
cry tears at night thinking that it is simply too much. We too will sink. For our faith sometimes just isn’t strong
enough.
But
we can be assured, that in our darkest hour, in our greatest moment of despair,
in our most shameful self, he will be there.
His hand will grab us. He will
lift us up. He will bring us to
safety. His voice will whisper in our
ear that it is him.
And
with faith like a child let us hope that we too might be able to say on that
day, and every day until we see him face to face:
Truly,
you are the Son of God.
