Posts
Today’s text
Peter answered him,
‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’
So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards
Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind,
he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’
Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of
little faith, why did you doubt?’ When they got into the boat, the wind ceased.
And those in the boat worshipped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’
Be still ... and know
Human beings aren’t very good at walking on water. This goes
without saying, but I am not talking about skimming across the surface of a lake
without skies.
In the Bible water is often a symbol, a metaphor for life
and God’s presence ... and for threat and chaos. Psalm 46, often read in troubling
times, says there is a stream that makes glad the city of God. The flowing stream is a metaphor for
God’s presence bringing hope and strength.
Jesus says those who know him will have streams of living
water flowing through their souls; again, water is a symbol of God’s peace and love
flowing through us. But water is also a symbol of chaotic (even evil) powers we
cannot control. The sea is restless and powerful. Winds whip up waves that toss human
beings around like child’s
toys.
The waters stand for the unruly tide of human history,
unpredictable and uncontrollable. Water symbolizes changes and troubles--the storms and rough
seas of life that steal our confidence and make us afraid.
These waters are everywhere. Just watch the news.
Disturbing waves appear as suddenly as an ache that wasn’t
there the day before, the pink slip telling you your services are no longer needed, the
awareness that you may be losing your edge or your memory, the anxiety that your life and
future are not secure.
Our Camp Noah ministry team recently encountered young people
in Oklahoma
whose lives were distressed not only by tornadoes that smashed homes, but also
by alcoholism, physical and emotional abuse and the revolving realities of life
in a foster home.
Recently, I heard from a bank vice president, one of
the most competent and confident people I have ever known, musing about the constant
bickering around his office—the way his opinion is ignored by younger
colleagues who have no idea of all he has done in his leadership ... and don’t
care. Now, he questions his judgment, the sharpness of his mind, his ability to
do what he has done with care and confidence for decades. The waters are choppy around him, and there is
doubt in him I have never
before seen.
School soon starts. Students go to new schools, to
classrooms and teachers they don’t know. Amid anticipation of good things questions and
anxieties also appear. Will my friends still be there? Will I have difficult classes or
people who don’t like me?
And then this week our staff visited Amado, our
congregation’s custodian, recovering and rehabilitating from the bullet that
ripped through his neck and shattered, nearly killing him from the five units
of blood that poured from his wounds.
It is amid such wind and waves that Jesus reveals himself,
speaking as the One who alone masters the storm.
“Take heart, It is I,” Jesus says. “Be still. Do not be
afraid ... even when the waves are great ... even when you feel like you are
sinking. I am with you. Just ... hear ... my ... voice. I am the Voice of calm,
the Voice of the Love who is, who always will be ... who never leaves you.”
It strikes me that before the story of Jesus and Peter on
the waves, Jesus rests on a mountain, praying, communing with God in the silence of
total love, totally aware of God’s Holy Presence deep within.
He wants us to know what he knows. Most often we don’t know.
Our fears multiply when we feel separated, separated from
Voice of Love that would fill us as it filled Jesus on the mountainside. He knew the Voice
of Love. He always knew what we forget, especially when the waves grow high and the
winds restless.
Jesus is the Voice of Love who comes amid restless waves of
fear, finding ways to speak to us and in us, seeking to fill us with the Eternal Presence
of Love that filled him.
That is why we pray together or in the silence of heart,
with words or without, as we go about our days.
You need to hear the Voice of Love, the Voice of Jesus’
Eternal Presence deep within your heart amid the restless waves and noise of living.
Hearing his Voice ... courage comes, and we begin to learn ... however slowly
... what it means to walk on water.
Pr. David L. Miller
No comments:
Post a Comment