“Faithful Risk”
Matthew 14:22-33
I would like to blame it on the movies—or maybe the tradition of the 30-minute sit-com in which horrible problems are solved immediately, and then everyone leaves happily ever after (at least until the next episode).
But given that movies and sit-coms, myths and fairy tales are created by humans, maybe the source of this particular—and particularly dangerous—delusion runs deeper than that.
I’m referring, of course, to the comforting, if misguided, belief that when we are doing what we’re “meant”to do, everything will come together, almost like magic. That when we’re being faithful, God will reward us. Obstacles will fall away, success will fall into our lap, all will be well, and everything will go . . . well . . . swimmingly.
Hashtag “blessed” and all that.
What makes this way of thinking so dangerous is that when things don’t go as planned, we might begin to doubt both God and ourselves. And when things get really hard, we might believe we’re being punished for something.
The reality is both more reassuring and more complicated than that. On the one hand: Tragedy is never God’s punishment. On the other hand: Bad things have always happened to good people. Long before climate change began turning the world upside down, wildfires, hurricanes, floods, and heat devastated lives, land, and property on a fairly regular basis. And despite life-saving scientific and medical advances, despite healthy eating and regular exercise, various diseases and conditions continue to ravage and even take the lives of people we love.
Given that, it’s only natural that we do what we can to avoid bad outcomes. Given that bad stuff happens, it’s only reasonable that we try to control what we can.
But, contrary to what many of us were taught, faith is not a hedge against suffering, and living faithfully will not protect us from hard times or failure. Contrary to what Christian nationalism would have us believe, following Jesus is not at all about pursuing power, protecting the status quo, or worshipping success.
We know that that if we’re truly following the way of Jesus, we are going to make trouble and we may well get into trouble.And still, when it comes to our personal lives, when it comes to church growth and vitality, it’s hard not to fall into the trap of making a connection between our behavior and our outcomes. If things aren’t going the way we want them to, we think we must be doing something wrong. Without intending to, we end up putting more faith in results than in God. We find more security in success than in faith. Most of us order our day-to-day lives according to a kind of functional atheism, proclaiming faith while living as if everything is up to us.
Which is why this morning I want to praise faithful failure—except that it’s not failure at all. No outcome of something done in love—not divorce, disease, or disaster—is ever a failure. No result of something done in faith—not conflict, struggle, or sinking—is ever a failure.
There are realities, people, and systems we cannot control or change. There are forces at work we cannot see or understand. There are things that happen to us that are no reflection on us.
But grace also happens. And Jesus still calls us to live by that faith—not by results, odds, or what we can control. Love still calls us to risk everything for the well-being of others and the healing of the world. Our faith calls us to get out of the safety of the boat and attempt the possible.
Which is why I am so glad—deeply grateful, really—that today’s gospel story has that lovable buffoon Peter beginning to sink in the roiling waters of the Sea of Galilee.
That Peter sank tells me that, among other things, no matter how much faith we have, the laws of nature still apply.
That Peter sank tells me that, no matter how good we are, we still need God.
That Peter sank tells me that, no matter how often I take my eyes off the prize, no matter how easily distracted I get from my good intentions to love my neighbor and take everything to God in prayer, no matter how quickly I decide what to do before I’ve tried to discern what Spirit would have me do, no matter how often I choose my own safety, comfort, and what is known over the unknowns of faith, the riskiness of hope, and the messiness of community, God’s steadfast love will not fail me.
God’s love will always be there to walk with me and catch me when I fall—or when I sink.
I’m glad Peter sank because it reminds me that God is God—and I am not.
I’m really glad Peter sank because it reminds me that even when I do all the right things for all the right reasons, certain realities are also at play. Gravity, for example. Death. Disease. Climate change. The politics of cruelty, hatred, deception, and denial.
I’m glad Peter got out of the boat because that challenges me to take risks, to try new things, to step out in trusting hope and bold faith.
I’m glad Jesus encouraged Peter’s foolishness, because it tells me he saw the love and hope behind it and that God wants us to be her partners in loving and healing the world.
And I’m really glad Peter sank because it reminds me that I can’t do anything meaningful or impactful on my own. I need God’s healing, transforming, and empowering Spirit living in me, through me, and all around me.
I’m glad Peter sank because it reminds me that even when things don’t turn out the way I’d hoped, even when my efforts fail to change people or systems or outcomes, I am being changed and healed and finding my home in God.
I’m glad Peter sank because it reminds me that even when all seems lost, God holds the whole world in her loving hands.
Now, this may not be the way you’ve thought of this story before. Many of us have heard judgment, rather than tenderness, in Jesus’ question to Peter. Most of us have been told that if we just had more faith, we could do the impossible. And that’s a lot of pressure, so many of us have traded trust in God for just trying to be decent people. Sometimes we’ve traded bold action for the tried and true.
To be honest, this is not exactly the sermon that I thought I would preach.
But sometimes it’s important to acknowledge that the life of faith is kind of scary. Sometimes we have to admit that life itself can be scary and hard. Sometimes we need to admit that we’re scared, and that we’re especially scared of failing or looking foolish or letting someone down. And so much of the time we just stay in the boat and hope someone else will do something.
So thank God for Peter, who had faith enough, love enough, and desire enough to get out of the boat and move toward Jesus.
That’s all any of us needs to do.
We don’t have to have be free of doubt, we don’t have to have clarity, we don’t need to be successful, do the impossible, produce results, change the world, or give of ourselves until we’re broken and burned out. We don’t even have to, like Jesus, keep stealing away to pray—though that certainly helps.
And we certainly don’t have to be able to walk on water, though there’s something to be said for wanting to.
So take heart, beloveds. God’s love is here—coming toward us, encouraging us, pulling us out of the messes we’ve created, walking with us, healing us, and transforming us.
Take heart, and be not afraid.
