The Calm Amidst the Storm
Proper 14A-26
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago
After feeding the 5000 Jesus ordered the disciples into a boat. He dismissed the crowds and sent the disciples to the other side of the Sea. Then he went up the mountain by himself to pray (Matthew 14:22-23). Jesus resumed the search for solitude he first felt on hearing the news—John the Baptist was dead.
Matthew sets the scene for us in the first two sentences. Then our gospel unfolds like an acted-out parable. We learn that solitude, silence, and prayer is necessary even for the second person of the Trinity, Jesus, the Son of God. We learn that the followers of Jesus are both called and sent. We learn that prayer is the fuel that makes their ministry go. Christ is the calm amidst the storm.
Jesus “compelled” the disciples into the boat. Ministry is not optional. The language is unusually strong. Matthew makes it clear the disciples did not choose this journey for themselves. They are going because Jesus sent them. The Sea of Galilee is not a big body of water. It’s never more than seven miles across from east-to-west. Yet Peter and the disciples struggle. Their boat is “battered” and “thrashed” by wind and waves. Jesus sent them into the storm on their own. Sometime between three and six in the morning, Jesus hailed them from the water saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid” (v. 27).
We should pause to say what this story is NOT. Peter is often singled out as either the hero or the failure of this story. Some celebrate his courage for stepping out of the boat. Others criticize him for losing focus and sinking. But both readings make Peter’s fear or lack of it the center of the story. Matthew’s focus is elsewhere. (Micha Krey, “Matthew 14:22-33,” Writings on Recovery and Preaching, 8/9/26)
Some of you may have grown up with “Fear not!” Christianity. This type of Christianity teaches ‘You can’t be fearful and faithful at the same time. As if fear is a clear sign that you lack faith.’ Yet, instead of courage or trust, this type of religion turns our ever-present fears into guilt, shame, and hopelessness.
“Nowhere in the Gospels are we called to prove our faith (or test God’s character) by taking pointless risks that threaten our lives… Whether we’re talking about respecting the power of the sea during a vicious storm, or heeding expert medical advice during a global pandemic, the same caution applies. Recklessness is not faith. Stupidity is not courage.” (Debie Thomas, “Out on the Water,” Journey with Jesus, 8/2/20)
Matthew invites us to consider something larger. Jesus sends the disciples into the storm on their own. And then he comes to them there. This is not the first time the disciples have experienced a life-threatening storm at sea. Back in Matthew 8, Jesus and the disciples crossed these same waters. A violent storm arose while Jesus slept peacefully in the boat. Terrified, the disciples cried out, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” (8:25). Jesus rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. The disciples responded with amazement: “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?” (v 27). That earlier story established something essential. Jesus possesses authority over creation itself. The wind obeys him. The sea obeys him. Chaos obeys him.
“Today’s story assumes we remember that earlier revelation. The question is no longer whether Jesus has authority over the sea. The question is whether the disciples believe that authority still belongs to him—even when he is not already sitting in the boat beside them.”
Peter’s words are not a request to prove his faithfulness. They are a request for Jesus to reveal himself. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water” (v 28). Peter is able to step onto the water because Jesus has spoken. Then Peter notices the wind. The storm has not disappeared. The waves are still present. The danger is still real. Peter begins to sink. And in the most human moment of the story, he cries out:“Lord, save me!” (v 30). This is not Peter failing a test. This is Peter doing what disciples have always done in Matthew. When they are overwhelmed, they cry out to Jesus. (Krey)
The same Lord who says, “Come,” is the Lord who says, “I have you.” At the very start of Matthew, Jesus is named Emmanuel: “God with us” (1:23). Not God distant from us. Not God present only when circumstances are calm. Jesus calls and sends us. God is with us. The disciples are learning what that means. The question is not whether Peter has enough faith. The question both for them and for us is: Where is Christ to be found as we go out in obedience to his command to love and to serve? (Krey)
The answer throughout this section of Matthew has been remarkably consistent. The crowds are hungry. Jesus comes to them. The disciples are overwhelmed by feeding thousands. Jesus provides. Now the disciples are isolated on a storm-tossed sea. Jesus comes again. Again and again throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus moves toward people in their vulnerability rather than waiting for them to find their way to him. That pattern matters because the storm is not evidence that the disciples have failed. They are not there because they ignored Jesus. They are there because they obeyed Jesus. And yet, obedience does not guarantee calm waters.
Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus sends disciples into places they would never choose for themselves. He sends them to proclaim the kingdom. He sends them to heal. He sends them into villages where they may be welcomed or rejected. Eventually, he will send them to all nations. Being sent does not guarantee smooth sailing. Being sent guarantees Christ’s presence. Followers of Jesus are both called and sent.
So, like Jesus, we pray. Prayer is the fuel that makes ministry happen. We worship, we sing, we meditate because, like Jesus, we need silence and solitude to stop our mind from whirling and root ourselves in the abiding presence of God that is always in with and under each moment. There is so much to be afraid of in our world right now. Jesus throws us a lifeline.
Like Jesus on the mountain, like Elijah in the cave on Mt. Horeb, God speaks from within “the sound of sheer silence” emanating deep from the life within all life (1 Kings 19:11-12). Jesus withdrew for prayer on a regular basis. There seems to be a rhythm in his life between the times of active ministry and the times of prayer-filled solitude.
Sometimes, like the prophet Elijah, when we go to God in prayer what we learn is we are full of it. The power of prayer is an antidote to navel gazing and narcissism. Prayer brings accountability and repentance as much as healing and wisdom. When our mind and hearts re-center in prayer something surprising happens. It occurs to us that maybe we can add to our happiness and joy, not by holding on to life’s treasures, but by giving them away.
Jesus, Savior, pilot me to traverse the boundary between strangers, to forge authentic bonds of peace and stability, to uncover our common connections, and our God-given gifts to calm the storm. Do not be afraid dear church. The church is built to travel. It’s built to traverse, tempest-tossed, upon the turbulent seas that separate God’s people from one another. We are called and sent. Emmanuel, Christ Jesus is with us.
