'' Stepping Out of the Boat" given 8/13/2017

There's an old story about three men who come before the Throne of God on Judgment Day. The sky turns black. The moon turns to blood. Stars are falling from the sky. Angels circle over head. Saints cast their crowns before the Throne. The Antichrist is defeated. Eerie music blares. Strange creatures float on the clouds. Mystic lamp stands light. The pages of the book of life thunder as they seem to turn of their own accord.

Finally the Eternal Judge, the Ancient of Days, God upon the Throne turns and proceeds to judge the three men. The first is condemned to hell. Trumpets blast, lightening flashes. The man drops to his knees in sheer terror. Then the second man is likewise condemned. More lightening, more horns. He falls on his face in utter horror. Finally the third man is also condemned. Yet again the trumpets blare and the sky fills with light. But this time, the man just stands there with a stupid, lopsided grin on his face.

Everything stops. Everybody stands in surprise and silence for a moment. Then from behind him, one of the Archangels pushes through the crowd and whomps the guy upside his head with a flaming sword.

"What's the matter with you? Didn't you hear the sentence?" The angel demands.

"Yeah I did," replies the man. "but it's all just such a great show!

The point of the story is that some of us expect more spectacle from God than the rest of us. And for any of you who are like that, this morning's Gospel Reading really fits the bill. It describes a downright spooky encounter that the disciples had with Jesus on a storm-tossed Sea of Galilee.

The disciples obviously thought that God was using the storm to tell them something. Jesus' behavior no doubt looked equally significant to them. But whatever the real facts of His walking on the water were, it is clear that Jesus wasn't nearly as interested as the disciples were in whatever threatening messages God might or might not have been using the storm to send.

Obviously Our Lord was far more interested in teaching His followers about personal trust, and confidence, and discovering the spiritual resources available for the living of life on this planet. Jesus was more interested in equipping them to face the more complex, less dramatic, tougher, more prosaic storms of everyday life.

Our Lord knew very well that 99% of the time, God calls us and speaks to us without using Stephen Spielberg to do the special effects. Trust, care, believe. Those were, and are, the call of Jesus. “Come, Follow me. Come to God. And it was in that setting, buffeted by the crashing waves, that one of the disciples, Simon Peter, trusted, began the life-long process of salvation, believed, found his God, came to Christ.

Simon and his brother Andrew were professional fishermen. Along with James and John, they knew the ways of boats and storms. Line and sail, wind and wave were a part of their everyday lives. Yet that particular day, there came to Simon and the others a headwind they could not tack against, a rough sea they could not ride out.

And then, in the midst of the storm came a lull. Then, calmly coming toward them, literally walking on the waves, He came. Their rabbi, their Master, their friend, their Christ, their God--Jesus. They must have been absolutely terrified. It's clear that they had absolutely no idea of what to do, how to respond.

And then Simon Peter-- foolish, bragging, impetuous Simon acted. Simon, the guy who always managed to put his foot in it. Simon, who always blurted out the wrong thing at the wrong time. Simon, who seems at times to only be in the Gospels for comic relief, acted. This Gabby Hayes of the disciples, this not-too-bright-but-faithful sidekick came through.

This time for once, Simon Peter seemed to know exactly what to do. Our first impulse on reading the story might be to throw up our hands at the sheer chutzpah, the pushy nerve of Simon. But his bold act seems to be what Jesus expected of Peter. Going against all his life-long experience in small boats, against all his professional judgment, against common sense, Simon stood up, crawled to the rim of the boat, looked into Jesus' face, took a deep breath and with all his faith, stepped out of the boat. And he did it! Simon Peter actually walked on the water!

Sure it was only a couple of steps. Sure it was only a moment until the force of the gale drove his new-born confidence away. Sure he sunk. But for a moment there, Simon did it! This most human, most fallible of the disciples was actually able to walk on the waves! He did it.

And then, as he began to sink and his life passed before his eyes, Simon Peter called out in fear and was saved. The strong, loving hand of God reached out and caught him. Jesus lifted him up and out of the sea.

Peter the thick-headed, the one who never quite got what Jesus was driving at, had been the only one to understand Jesus' unspoken call to risk, to trust. Simon had been the only one to respond to the challenge to step out of the boat and move on to the storm-tossed seas of this world.

Buffeted by doubt, going against the so-called wisdom of this world, finding his own faith insufficient, never-the-less, Simon was saved. Not through the drama and spectacle or the storm. Not through Jesus' wondrous works and miracles.

No Simon was saved-- as most of us are-- through the quiet and subtle ways of faith. The eyes of a loved one. The still small voice within. The outstretched hand of a friend who cares. The hand of God, reaching out and grasping us in our need, lifting us up and calling us back to the struggle.

This story is in many senses a paradigm for the life of discipleship. Actually, one of the oldest symbols for Christ’s church is a tiny boat on choppy seas, buffeted by waves. Look up at our ceiling. Notice the pointed peak—like the keel of an boat. See the visible supporting beams—like the ribs of a boat. The similarities are not accidental. The architecture of many churches—including this one—consciously or unconsciously--suggests an over turned boat.

To be in the church is in many ways to be in a tiny raft, tossed about on the stormy waves of life. Jesus comes and rebukes us for our little faith and encourages us to trust in him. He stills the storm and brings us back to safety.

And yet it's not enough for us simply to sit there and hang on. We get called to climb out of the boat all the time. The church can be a crucial place of mutual support in time of emotional and spiritual trial. We can keep one another from sinking, in a very real sense. We can lift one another up. We can get through the storms of loss, or pain, or illness together. But sooner or later, like Peter, we get called to step out of the boat.

It might be an opportunity to share our faith with someone who desperately needs to hear the good news. Our call to venture out of the safety of the boat might be the opportunity no respond to someone in need, someone who as the old gospel song says is "sinking deep in sin".

It might be the call to go rescue someone who needs to be literally lifted up out of the waters of despair or addiction or loss or greed. It might simply be that same call that we hear every Monday morning, to live with integrity, and respect for others, and most of all with faith.

Maybe you know the story about the priest, the rabbi and the United Methodist minister? The minister was new in town and the other two invited him to go fishing with them. They were out on a lake in a rowboat, enjoying themselves end getting acquainted.

Suddenly the priest announced that he wanted a Pepsi. So he calmly stood up, stepped over the rail of the boat and walked over the water to the shore, where he stuck some change in a pop machine in front of a fishing lodge, got his Pepsi and walked back. The rabbi didn't blink an eye, so the minister kept his surprise to himself and didn't say anything. But he thought to himself:

"Boy, he's got faith!" A couple of minutes later, the rabbi decided that he wanted a 7-Up. So he calmly stood up, stepped out of the boat and walked on the water to the pop machine, bought his 7-Up and walked back to the boat. "Boy, he's got faith!" Thought the minister to himself.

Finally, the minister got thirsty too. He was too shy to ask one of the others to go get him a pop. And besides, he figured that a United Methodist minister ought to have as much faith as a Catholic priest or a Jewish rabbi. So he stood up, stepped over the rail and into the water, and promptly sank! Whereupon the priest turned to the rabbi and enquired,

"Do you think we should have told him about the rocks?"

Sisters and brothers, you and I get called out of the boat all the time. I've been trying to suggest this morning that being a mature Christian requires that we respond. But I also want to suggest that our faith, our trust in Christ, our experiences in the life of discipleship, our fellowship can to some extent be a matter of knowing about and telling one another about those rocks. And I also want to suggest that the faith is also a matter of being rocks for one another.

Being a Christian is however, more than simply knowing and telling one another where the rocks are. And it's more than knowing that there are folks in the boat who care enough about us to be willing to walk over and pull us out if we sink.

Being a mature Christian is also a matter of being willing to step out of the boat, when Christ calls us--regardless of where the rocks are or aren't. It's stepping out simply because He calls. It's trusting that one way or the other, Christ will be with us--assuming the call was genuine. Ultimately, it's keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus and just doing it---even if we do end up sinking.

That all means taking some pretty serious risks at times in this life. Risking ourselves to help another. Risking to reach out and minister to a needy sister or brother in circumstances that may be unfamiliar or uncomfortable. Listening--really listening to someone who's hurting-- without judging or giving unwanted advice.

Being a friend in need. Helping out with an unasked favor, a word, a prayer, even a loan we don't necessarily expect to be paid. Challenging the racist remark. Questioning those in power when they're wrong. Confronting bullies, witnessing for justice, supporting groups that work for what we believe in. Going back to school to finish that degree. admitting our wrongs, perhaps changing careers.

Taking responsibility from day one for that relationship you entered into, that child you brought into the world. Tutoring an illiterate adult, Taking a parentless child into your home. It is in sum, striving in any way that presents itself to make yourself into a better person and make this into a better, more humane, more Christian world.

Being a follower of Christ, stepping out of the boat means at times taking a unpopular, even a dangerous stand. Think of St. Francis, Martin Luther, the Wesley brothers, Dorothy Day, Dr. King, the Berrigan brothers, Cesar Chavez, Archbishop Romero martyred in El Salvador. Think of Nelson Mandella imprisoned for most of his adult life. Think of Archbishop Desmond Tutu taking up Mandella’s role and leading the fight against Apartheid in South Africa.

I remember Donna and I hearing Archbishop Tutu speak in Chicago quite a few years before Mandella’s release, telling us about the letter he got from a Roman Catholic nun in Alaska. She wrote to him that she rose every morning at 4 AM to pray for this Anglican Archbishop and his ministry for his people's freedom.

"How can the government win?" Asked this Archbishop. "A nun in Alaska is praying for me every day at 4 AM. How can anyone's guns and clubs stand against that?"

Being a Christian means at times stepping out of the boat. But the boat still remains. And the rest of us remain, praying for one another, ministering to our own particular corner of God's world, believing, trusting, willing to take the risk and walk on the rocks to fish one another if we sink. Thanks be to God.

Let us pray.

God of grace and power your Son gives us victory over life's most violent storms. Strengthen our faith as we commit ourselves to the ministry and witness of your church, to take our first tentative steps out of the boat and onto the waves, Keep us secure in our relationship with you and true to our mission in the world, Wo pray through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.