#WhyDoubt

When Peter saw the wind, he was afraid. Matthew is telling us something important here. The wind was a symbol of chaos and evil, of risk and threat. Peter is on the brink of faith. He almost knows that Jesus is more than a radical rabbi.

It was the fourth watch, the darkest part of the night, 3 in the morning, and the storm was battering the boat – the Greek word is actually torturing – the waves were torturing the boat. And in the moonlight, through the spray, they see a figure coming toward them. He speaks, as a divine messenger would speak. Every messenger of God throughout Scripture approaches with a reassurance that fear is not a necessary response to God. Have no fear. And then he identifies himself.

“Ego emi;” “I am.” The Greek translation of the Hebrew word for God – Yahweh. The same identification God spoke to Moses from the burning bush, Jacob as he wrestled through the night; the same assurance of identity that the prophet Isaiah speaks to Israel, “Fear not, I am with you, be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, help you, and uphold you with my victorious right hand. I, the Lord, the first and with the last; ego emi.”

Through the rush of wind and thunder of waves, they hear this shadowy figure in the moonlight saying, “Take heart, ego emi; have no fear.”

And Peter, always act before you think, says, “Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water.” “Come.” And he crawls out of the boat, and walks on the water and comes – to Jesus. Was that who he expected to see? In that moment, the connection in offered. Ego emi – Yahweh – God’s messenger. Jesus, Rabi, teacher.

And he sees the wind. In that moment, he both realizes who Jesus is and recognizes the chaos, the evil, the threat and risk all around them. And he starts to sink.

We stand at a moment in our lives when the storms rage all around. Winds and waves torment us. Weapons of mass destruction and vehicles plowing into crowds. I don’t know about you, but I get a sinking feeling when I see the wind. It is so strong. It stings my face and tortures my vessel. Like Peter and the disciples, I know that this sea is prone to storms. Like Peter and the disciples, I know that night passes and dawn comes. But right now, it is dark and the wind howls.

Rev. Dr. Tom Long suggests that “In this instant, then, we catch a brief glimpse of what Matthew believes discipleship is all about – obeying Jesus, sharing the fullness of his life and ministry, moving toward him confidently even in the teeth of the storm. But Peter cannot maintain this posture. He catches sight of the wind, and now there are two rival powers symbolically in view: Jesus and chaos. Peter’s faith is now mixed with fear; he has, as Daniel Patte has phrased it, ‘a faith with a divided mind,’ and wondering whether Jesus or the raging wind will finally prevail, he begins to sink beneath the waters.”

And just as he is beginning to sink, Peter cries out, “Lord, save me.” Immediately, Jesus reaches out and catches him. Immediately. When we cry out, God reaches out. Immediately.

And once he is back upright, Jesus asks a question that had to sting and at the same time make Peter aware of how deeply he was known. “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?” The word Matthew uses for doubt literally means “standing in two places” or “being of two minds.”

I don’t know about you, but the wind threatens to get my attention. I read the news. I read the exchanges between President Trump and Kim Jong-un. I cringe at the description of a “white nationalist gathering” in our country, a country founded on these words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” And I get a sinking feeling. I doubt. We all do.

Why do we doubt? Because we stand in two places. We are in between. The Kingdom of God is now – and not yet. We live with one foot in this world and one foot in God’s world. And if we are honest with ourselves, the winds and waves of hate and evil batter our own hearts – winds of self-concern, superiority, egotism, winds of violence, indifference, intolerance, winds of pride, independence, and self-importance.

In his early 40’s, Frank Laubach saw the winds and realized he was sinking. His life was falling apart. He was deeply concerned about poverty, injustice, and illiteracy. So, he and his wife and four children had moved to the Philippines in the 1915 as a missionary family. But, three of the children died of malaria, and his wife took their one remaining child and moved a thousand miles away. His plans for the Maranao people of the Philippines had been utterly rejected. Frank was sinking. He took his dog, Tip, and went to the top of Signal Hill, overlooking Lake Lanao. He wrote about what happened there, “Tip had his nose up under my arm and was trying to lick the tears off my cheeks. My lips began to move and it seemed to me that God was speaking. ‘My child…you have failed because you do not really love these Maranaos. You feel superior to them because you are white. If you forget you are an American and think only how I love them, they will respond.’ I answered back to the sunset, ‘God, I don’t know whether you spoke to me through my lips, but if you did, it was the truth. My plans have all gone to pieces. Drive me out of myself and come and take possession of me and think thy thoughts in my mind.’”

This is why we doubt. This is why we see the wind and begin to sink. Because in that moment, we cry out “Lord, save me.” And then, and only then, does Jesus reach out and take our arm and lead us to the boat and out of the storm. At that moment, when we see the wind for the chaos and evil it is, when we realize we are standing in two places, that our minds and hearts are divided and need to be united, we are able to be saved. And immediately, we are caught and kept from sinking. Thanks be to God. Amen.