St. John’s Lutheran Church
Albany, New York
9 August 2026 + The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 14 / Lectionary 19a
Matthew 14:22-33
The Rev. Josh Evans

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It would be easy to turn this story
into a mere object lesson
with Peter at the center:
Peter who sinks,
Peter who doubts,
Peter of “little faith,”
too little faith,
not enough faith.

In summary:
Don’t be like Peter.
Have more faith.
Just try harder.
Keep your focus on Jesus.
Hashtag faithoverfear!
How hard can it be?

No doubt there is fear
in this story.

Don’t forget where this chapter begins:
Against the background of political violence,
in the shadow of grief,
as Jesus mourns the death
of his fellow preacher and friend John,
who has just been executed in prison
for pissing off the powers-that-be.

The gospel writer doesn’t tell us
precisely what Jesus was feeling,
but you don’t exactly run off in a boat
by yourself
to a deserted place
when everything is going great.

Jesus is grieving,
troubled,
afraid –
and he just wants to be alone.

But the crowds are hot on his trail,
turning not to solitude
but to their trusted teacher
in their own grief.
The crowds, too, are afraid –
this is no moment to be alone.

You know what comes next –
that was last week’s story –
a brief interlude of a feeding miracle
in which Jesus is moved to compassion
at the sight of the wandering, restless, grieving, fearful crowd,
and in their wandering,
in their restlessness,
in their grief,
in their fear,
he draws them together
and feeds them –
and for a moment,
they are all less alone.

Hardly have they had a moment
to gather up the leftovers –
to pull out the mismatched tupperware from the church kitchen
and send everyone home with tomorrow’s lunch –
when immediately
Jesus makes the disciples get back into the boat.

Matthew’s word choice makes it clear
they don’t really have a choice in the matter.
Jesus compels them back into the boat.
He is actively sending them away.

I can only imagine
what the disciples must have been thinking:
This is hardly the time to split up,
not when the shadow of grief hangs long and heavy,
not when the threat of political violence looms.

No doubt there is fear
in this story
as the disciples get back into the boat alone,
wondering how, or even if,
they will make it to the other side.

No doubt there is fear
in this story
as Jesus tries, again,
to go off by himself to pray,
carefully plotting his next steps.

Certainly there is fear
in this story
in the midst of the storm –
the disciples are terrified,
and they cry out in fear.

“It’s a ghost!”

No…it’s not.

“Take heart, it is I” – ego eimi (I am!) –
“do not be afraid.”

And Peter knows!

You don’t exactly jump out of a boat
in the middle of the sea
during a storm
for just anyone,
especially not a ghost.

This is Jesus
whom Peter has come to know,
whom he has seen do amazing things,
whom he has heard preach with mighty power,
with whom he has, in fact, been in the boat during a storm before
and whom he has heard rebuke the winds and bring the sea to a dead calm.

Peter knows.

There is fear in this story –
and there is also great faith
and trust.

Peter knows…
and he starts sinking anyway.
But not because he loses sight of Jesus
or forgets who Jesus is and what Jesus is capable of,
but because he also notices the strong wind –
and oh yeah, he’s walking on freaking water!

The presence of Jesus
doesn’t negate the presence of the storm,
and that, I believe, gives us
a beautifully honest and authentic description of faith.

In a well-worn phrase from writer Anne Lamott
I turn to time and time again:
“The opposite of faith is not doubt,
but certainty.”

Peter can be at once faithful and fearful,
simultaneously full of faith and full of questions.
One doesn’t negate the other,
and in fact, I would be deeply skeptical
of a faith that claims to have all the answers.

Peter knows…
but that doesn’t mean he can never be afraid,
or ask questions,
or have doubts.

One pastor eloquently puts it this way:
“Faith is not simply learning something about God once
and never struggling again.
Faith is the lifelong process of remembering
who God has already shown Godself to be.”

And Peter remembers.

There is fear in this story –
and there is also great faith
as Peter, sinking,
without hesitation,
cries out to the one he knows can save him.

“Lord, save me!”
Peter cries out, instantly.
“Lord, save me!”
Peter cries out,
because he knows Jesus can.

That refrain itself
is a bold declaration of great faith:
“Lord, save me!”

And Jesus immediately
does just that,
reaching out his hand
to catch Peter
and pull him up.

No doubt
there is fear in this story –
the presence of Jesus
doesn’t negate the presence of the storm.

And there is also great faith
in this story –
the presence of the storm
doesn’t negate the presence of Jesus.

In the midst of a relentless, boat-battering, terrifying storm,
there is Jesus,
hand outstretched
to pull us back up.

In the midst of fear and the long shadow of grief,
there is Jesus,
hands outstretched,
full of bread to feed us.

Having faith doesn’t promise
there will be no more storms,
no more grief,
no more fear.

The promise is so much more profound than that,
assuring us that there is One
who is right there with us
in the midst of it all.