Stepping Out in Faith

Sermon

Last week, if you were in worship, you might have noticed that our esteemed clerk of session, Jan Poujade, came up during the prelude to tell me something. I’d like to share with you a story about what had happened.

Before worship began, a few of our folks noticed a young man in the front of the church, on the Schuyler Street side, who did not appear well. David Groff, one of our members who saw this, described what happened in a letter recently published in The Oregonian.

“As I approached [the] church, I encountered an unhoused young man who was in obvious distress. Shirtless and shoeless with pants falling down, he seemed dazed and confused. He also had an injured right arm and swollen hand. I called 911, described the situation, and asked for the Portland Street Response. Within about fifteen minutes [their] van arrived. A young male EMT and a young female staff member immediately engaged with the individual in a respectful manner, introducing themselves and learning the man’s name. After talking with him they left with him presumably to arrange treatment for his hand and to get other help.”

David, a long-time advocate for the unhoused, had been joined by Jan, who is a retired public health nurse, and Janet Patin, a medical doctor. I cannot imagine three people better suited to help this young man in distress, given their expertise and their compassion. Knowing these three folks pretty well, I would also say that their faith had something to do with their response too. They stepped out in faith so they could help this young man.

Today’s gospel lesson tells a different sort of story about stepping out in faith—that’s what Peter does. He steps out onto a stormy sea, relying on his faith in Jesus to carry him across the waves. Of course, he almost sinks… but we’ll get to that in a bit.

Jesus has a lot going on in the fourteenth chapter of Matthew! He found out John the Baptist was murdered; he tried to get some alone time; he healed a crowd of 5000+ folks, he made sure those 5000+ folks ate; he tries again to get some alone time, but he has to save the disciples who are out on a stormy sea. And then, in the verses that follow today’s passage, Jesus and the disciples come back to the shore, and more people come, and he heals even more people. How does one man do it all?

Well, the gospel writer Matthew gives us a hint about all of that, so let me geek-out a little with some exegesis. In Hebraic thought, water was a force that was against God, which is why, in the first creation story, God shows God’s power when the waters are separated—some to above, the waters in the sky, and some below, the waters in the sea. Throughout the Hebrew scripture, water is understood as a place of chaos, danger, and wilderness. There are terrible monsters in the sea; the sea is temperamental, and storms can rise up out of nowhere.

So by walking on the water, Jesus shows that he has command over its chaos and danger. Just like God. But Matthew has another clue to drop to help everyone know how one man does it all. In the midst of the storm, the disciples see a figure walking toward them. Of course they think it’s a ghost; what else could it be? And so they cry out, but Jesus tells them not to be afraid. “It is I,” he says. Or in Greek “ego eimi.” And that’s our other clue.

This time we go back to the Exodus story, when Moses encounters God in the burning bush. Moses asks this god for a name, and God responds, in somewhat convoluted Hebrew, “I am who I am.” In the ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew scripture, God says to Moses, “Ego eimi.” In other words, Jesus is able to heal, to feed, to walk on water, because he is like God. His presence is the presence of God. His power is God’s power.

So it’s a good thing that Jesus is walking on the water toward the boat. What is not clearly good or bad is what Peter does next. Peter is not what any of us would call the best or the brightest. But he is the one upon whom Jesus builds his church. So maybe Peter is that guy in class who asks the obvious question that everyone wants to ask but is too embarrassed to. Maybe Peter isn’t in it to show how smart or talented or charismatic he is. Maybe he’s acting on faith and faith alone.

But he sort of needs Jesus to be super-clear, so he says, Jesus, if it’s really you, command me to walk on the water too. And Jesus does. And Peter steps out in faith, and for a few moments, in faith he too walks on water toward his teacher and his God. Until he notices that he, Peter, a fisherman from Galilee, is walking on water in the midst of a storm and that’s not a good idea because maybe that figure really is a ghost and oh my goodness I’m going down.

“Save me!” he cries. And Jesus does.

Now, do you consider this a success or a failure on Peter’s part, and does that even matter? I don’t know about you, but sometimes I get in a place where I rate my discipleship on a scale of 1 to 10 – one being near-atheist and 10 being a little lower than angels. How well did I love my neighbor today? Ooo, I hid from the woman who lives next door rather than offer to help her with her garbage bins. Let’s give that a 3. But I gave extra money to the Street Roots vendor in front of Starbucks so that deserves, let’s say, at least a 6 if not a 7.

Friends: don’t do that! The life of faith is not about getting an A+. God is not grading us. None of us is successful all the time and none of us is a failure all the time so let’s just tuck those words away in some place where we’ll never find them again.

I think that one of the things this story tells us is that what really matters is taking that step in faith. It might not be graceful, and it might be with 51% faith and 49% fear, but at least Peter tries. He takes that step. He acts in faith.

I think that’s what David and Jan and Janet did last Sunday: they acted in faith. They did not know this young man. They did not know if he might be violent, or faking it, or truly in a bad state. But as people who live in this faith that encourages compassion, especially for the vulnerable among us, they acted. They showed compassion. And they realized their limitations and called upon those who were better equipped to give him the help he needed.

How do any of us live out our faith? That’s a question each of us gets to answer for ourselves, and no one is grading us. But as I think about it for myself, I’m a little discomfited by the words of Methodist bishop William Willimon, who wrote, “I wonder if too many of us are merely splashing about in the safe shallows and therefore have too few opportunities to test and deepen our faith. The story today implies if you want to be close to Jesus, you have to venture forth out on the sea, you have to prove his promises through trusting his promise, through risk and venture.” (“How Will You Know If It’s Jesus”, 8/7/05, Day One, as quoted by Clifton Kirkpatrick in Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 3, p. 336)

When was the last time living your faith felt risky? Sometimes I wonder if I as a pastor am really doing the work God has called me to. People come to worship and hear a nice sermon that eases their discomfort and challenges them just enough—but not too much—and we pray for the grieving and the sick and the troubled, and that’s a good thing. But I wonder if I’ve made it all too easy and safe, if I have stayed in the boat on the stormy seas and not only not gone out on the water but not invited anyone to join me out on the water. Do you know what I mean?

Back in that hard summer of 2020, I went to one evening protest. I was scared, and the sage smoke was giving me a migraine, and I wasn’t sure when the guys with the rubber bullets would be rounding the corner, and I never went back. I readily admit my fear, and maybe it’s a bit justified. But there are other things that feel risky, or scary, that would show my faith, and I sit in the basement and cut out paper and watch something on Netflix.

Yet, as the old hymn reminds us,
“Jesus calls us o’er the tumult
of our life’s wild, restless sea;
day by day His sweet voice soundeth,
saying, ‘Christian, follow me.’”

Church is sometimes a shelter from the storm but sometimes church is where we pick up what we need so we can face the storm. But here is what I want you to remember: you are not alone. One of the things that struck me about the response of folks last Sunday to the young man in distress is that no one was alone. David and Janet and Jan were all there, as were the Portland Street Response folks. And then later in the service, David asked us to pray for the young man.

And then David wrote The Oregonian, who printed his letter encouraging the city not to give up on Portland Street Response. That’s taking one step in faith, and then another, and then another, and gathering people with you as you go.

We are called to go out into the chaos in God’s name, trusting that God or Jesus or the Spirit will supply us with what we need. And honestly, we don’t have to look far for that chaos.

• A few weeks ago, The New York Times wrote an article about the situation downtown in Portland, and the fruits of Measure 110, which allowed people to have small amounts of illegal drugs without being arrested. If you go downtown and you might see people who are not in their right minds, and there are reports of open-air drug use.
• The city and the county are pointing the finger at each other about the safe-rest villages and housing for the unhoused.
• Last winter a man died, probably of an overdose, in the church stairwell.

So some Sundays God calls us not into the sanctuary to worship but outside to help a young, unwell man in great distress.

And we go out not because we want to tame the chaos, end the addictions, put a stop to crime, hospitalize the sick, and house the unhoused; we go out because out there is where we get to practice our faith. I love that phrase, “practice our faith.” Practice implies not getting it right all the time, and failing as much as we succeed, stepping out on the water and walking, and stepping out on the water and sinking. But never alone. Always with God, and hopefully, always with each other.