“Oh, they think he walks on water!” Today’s Gospel reading brings us to the origin of a popular phrase that’s made it even into the secular lexicon. Someone who walks on water – a person who can do no wrong, who’s above and beyond everyone else. Usually a phrase applied in a sort of sarcastic way to someone we resent for the adulation and praise others give him.
But our Lord Jesus Christ does walk on water. And he deserves all the adulation and praise
we can muster, and then some. He is, as
the disciples recognize at the end of our reading, the Son of God, and worthy to
be worshipped.
In our reading from Job, it is God himself who is asking the
sarcastic, or at least rhetorical questions.
Oh, were you there when I made the heavens and the earth? Tell me how I did it, then, wise guy. “Have you entered into the springs of the
sea, or walked in the recesses of the deep?”
By his walking on water, Jesus can answer yes to this question – and
it’s further proof that he’s not just the Messiah, the Christ, but also the Son
of God and the Creator of all things.
Job must answer “no” to the litany of questions, but Jesus could answer
“yes” to all of them. In fact, we could
see Jesus as the one asking the questions.
For our part, we are like Job. Subject to the creation we were meant to rule
and manage. Because of sin, we are broken,
and the world itself is broken. And we
cannot master it any more than we can understand it. We fall victim to the sudden and violent
effects of its brokenness, or the slow, steady march of aging and death. We are slaves to sin and overshadowed by the
grave, and longing for release from bondage like the creation itself. Job had his troubles – loss of goods, loss of
family, loss of health. We have our
own. Some are the same. Some are different.
Oh sure, science has made its advances. We enjoy technology today that would seem
like magic to even our grandparents. Healthcare
is better. Lifespans are better. We can
fly anywhere in the world. We even landed on the moon. And information has exploded. You can ask any question instantly from the little
device in your pocket. But has such knowledge made men wiser? Has it improved us spiritually? Has it helped us to not be sinful, or made us
right with God?
And furthermore, hasn’t it continued to reveal deeper and
deeper mysteries the more we study this creation? The new telescope we sent up there can peer
further and deeper into space, but it just reveals new questions. The more we study the quantum realm the
stranger reality itself seems. The
digits of pi never repeat, even with our most advanced computers on the
case. These things ought to humble
us. They ought to drive us to deeper awe
for the Creator. But prideful man
continues to consider himself a god, and nothing good can come of that. We do well to consider the questions posed to
Job. We must confess God the Father
Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and Jesus Christ his Son, by whom all
things were made.
We are helpless, like the disciples in the boat. We may think we know what we’re doing, hey
they were experienced fishermen (at least several of them). But they knew enough to know they were in
trouble, and not much more. But here
comes Jesus.
He who just made a miraculous meal and multiplied the fish
and loaves for a crowd of probably over 15,000 (if we count the women and
children), now again exercises his divine powers but for the much smaller
audience of his 12 disciples. He walks
on the water, with the ease of a Sunday stroll on a paved garden path, on a
cool summer evening. The wind and wave
that buffeted the disciples’ boat are of no consequence to him. He made it all. He owns it all. He controls it all.
But they get him wrong, at first, thinking he’s a
ghost. Their superstitions get the best
of them. Fear rears its head. And if we regard Jesus only according to his
power, we might do the same.
This is a problem for so many Christians who consider God’s
sovereignty his chief characteristic.
He’s powerful. He’s mighty. Our God is an awesome God who reigns in heaven
above. Of course, we don’t deny his
power, but confess it freely. But his
omnipotence isn’t the most important or notable attribute. His almighty power is a terror to me if I am
still in my sins. He is a judge, and
terrible one at that, if all he is to me is the higher power.
But you and I know better, because we know Jesus. He has revealed himself to us as not just a
powerful God, but a merciful and kind one.
Just as he greets the disciples not in judgement for their fears, but
with encouragement. “Take heart, it is
I!”
He is no ghost. He is
the Eternal God who takes on human flesh, and he is as real as it gets. He is flesh and blood. But he is no mere man, subject to wind and
wave like you and me. He is master of
it, for himself, and for us. His mighty
power is good news because he is kindly disposed toward us. His mercy makes takes the terror out of his
might, and his presence among us brings calm and peace, not fear. And it all starts with his word, “Take heart,
it is I!”
Now, what about this Peter getting out of the boat
thing? Many sermons I’ve heard commend
Peter for getting out of the boat, and challenge Christians to metaphorically
do the same. I’m not so sure that’s the
right take here. Consider…
First, Peter doesn’t take Jesus at his word. But, rather, he puts Jesus to the test, much
the same way Jesus’ adversaries do at the cross, and even how the devil does in
the wilderness temptation. “If it’s
really you, Jesus, prove it….” Putting
God to the test doesn’t usually end well, and so too for Peter.
Really, it’s Peter who is put to the test here – and he
fails. At first, it seemed ok, he
actually walks on the water. But quickly
his faith falters when his eyes move from Jesus to the wind and wave. Hebrews 12 comes to mind, “Let us fix our
eyes upon Jesus…” Peter had little
faith. He doubted Jesus.
But true to his character, Jesus is there to save. He doesn’t let Peter’s doubts get the best of
him. He doesn’t let the wind and wave
have the final say. Immediately, he reaches
down and pulls the poor disciple back up, and into the safety of the boat. Jesus is the Savior, after all.
And as easily as he pulls Peter out of the water, he pulls
you up out of death itself. He pulls you
out of the waters of baptism, where you were buried with Christ and were raised
with him. Thanks be to God.
Back to Job. One of
the rhetorical questions God asks Job to put him in his place is this:
Have the gates of death been revealed to you, or have you
seen the gates of deep darkness?
No, the gates of death are a mystery to Job, and to all of
us who wait with dread to pass those gates.
The grave is dark to us, and that’s part of what makes it so
fearful. It is unknown. But not to
Jesus.
He knows the gates of death, because he passed through
them. He faced the most dreadful death
of the cross, bearing all the sins that would drag us down, and he plummeted to
the lowest depths along with them. He
knows death better than anyone, for he died in place of all.
And he masters the gates of death, for they are not strong
enough to hold him. He burst the gates
of death like walking through a paper ribbon, like knocking down a house of
cards. He strolled out of the grave as
easily as he walked on the water, like a walk in the park, for he is the Lord
of even life and death.
And one day, he will pull you out of the grave to resurrection,
just as he snatched Peter from the depths.
One day, you will see him in your flesh, with your own eyes, like Job
confesses – I know that my redeemer lives, and in the end he will stand upon
the earth. And I will see him, I and not
another. How my heart years within me!
Until then, take heart with Jesus, dear Christian. For you have his word. Take heart, for he comes to you in miraculous
but very real form – under bread and wine.
Take heart, for he comes not in sovereign and mighty judgment, but in
kind and tender mercy. He comes to the
rescue, to help, to save, and to forgive.
So, you of little faith, why do you doubt? With Jesus, we can always take heart, trust
in him, and be saved.
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