Chaos is all around us these days, isn’t it? Those memes about 2020 on social media hit much too close to home: You know the ones. They list Covid-19, fires, hurricanes, “murder hornets” “unidentified Chinese seeds,” and ask, “What next? Anybody for attack squirrels?” The Pandemic itself is a storm of pure chaos, and our collective inability to deal with it threatens to overwhelm us all. Private storms also rip at us from within, as our routines at work, at church, and at home shift and shatter. One news site posted a storm image just last month: “2020 hit us like a hurricane (plus there was an actual hurricane) and we’re all in the same boat – a boat that has now crashed and washed up on shore.”[1]
The metaphor of the stormy seas is biblical. In the Hebrew Bible, churning water represents the primeval chaos itself. It is the dark void of Genesis 1, the tohu wavohu, full of all of the forces that threaten God’s creation. Ancient Canaanites called these forces Leviathan, the monster of the deep whom God has battled and destroyed. Today, it can indeed seem as if these powers and principalities of the deep are undoing creation, while we voyage alone in a very small boat on a very large sea. Of course we are afraid.
Our Gospel comes to us with good news. Jesus’ appearance on the turbulent waters is more than just a miraculous magic show. Jesus calls out, “Take heart, I AM here; do not be afraid.” These words from Jesus aren’t just personal words of comfort for his friends. They are words of divine disclosure. “I AM” is the name of God, revealed to Moses at the Burning Bush. Jesus says to the disciples in Greek, “Take heart, I AM.” I am the Lord God, master of these waves.
The God of the Psalms, the God of Jonah and of Job, the God of Jesus and the disciples, our God--is a mighty God. God makes the powers of the deep submit and bow before him. Listen carefully to the voice of the psalmist: “God of Hosts … you rule the raging of the sea, when its waves rise, you still them.”(Ps.98) “The waters saw you, God; the waters saw you and writhed.”(Ps. 77) Jesus comes to the disciples as God, as the God who saves us. He comes as the God who created the universe and is still upholding it against all the chaotic powers that would tear it to shreds. Psalm 107 must have influenced Matthew’s telling of our Gospel story. It describes our salvation from the waters of chaos:
Some went down to the sea in ships… they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea … [The sailors’] courage melted away in their calamity; they reeled and staggered like drunkards, and were at their wits’ end. Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress; he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad because they had quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven. Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love … Let them extol him in the congregation of the people.
As a water weakling, though, here’s my question for this scenario: how are we supposed to keep calm? With the boat rocking, my faith is likely to evaporate into pure fear. What if we see Jesus and are still scared?
Matthew answers this question by adding Peter to the mix: Peter, that bold disciple, that Rock of the Church … Well, that very human disciple like you and me, the one who denies Jesus three times to save his own skin. Preachers often use Peter as an example of insufficient faith in this story. "Aha," some interpreters say, "Peter doesn’t trust Jesus enough. If Peter had enough faith, if he believed the miracle, then he wouldn’t have faltered in the water. He would have walked safely to Jesus. He would have shown the others what true, spectacular faith looks like.”
Actually, if we look closely at the text, we can see that such a reading is a misinterpretation. The word used by Jesus in v. 31, when he asks Peter why he doubts, is a word used only one other time in the whole New Testament. It isn’t the usual word for the wary skepticism that we often call doubt. It is a word meaning “vacillation.” In wanting everything pinned down, Peter begins wavering before he ever gets out of the boat. “If it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Peter negotiates. We’ve all heard bargaining like this before. We hear it from the Evil One himself: “If you are the Son of God,” says Satan to Jesus, “command these stones to turn into bread.” We also hear it coming from our own mouths: “If you are real, God, save me from this virus, and then I'll be the best Christian ever.” “If you are real, God, get me out of this mess.” Goodness, I start my silent bargaining with God as soon as I get in a boat!
Peter thinks that the way to escape the terrors of chaos is to walk to Jesus with celestial trumpet fanfare, with the banners of certainty waving behind him. But in reality, Peter only escapes the chaos of the deep when Jesus pulls him spluttering and dripping from the depths.
No matter how we shore up the sides of our ship, we are disciples who sail on seas of chaos and uncertainty in this world. Across the high waves, we Christians can feel God’s miraculous and powerful presence. We can see Jesus as Lord of the Turbulent Waters, but it is not the kind of knowledge that we can put under a microscope or use as a bargaining chip with God.
When it comes down to it, I think that a lot of our fear of chaos, like my fear of waves, comes not from a rational dread of the chaos itself. It comes from the irrational fear that, deep down, I am not worth saving, should I start to go under. Our story shows us that such a fear is unfounded. We, like Peter, are saved from the depths, not by any fantastic feats of faith, but by the grace of God’s hand.
In a way, whether I’m in a real boat or sailing on Pandemic chaos, I am right not to put my trust the strength of the boat or the intent of those waves. Our salvation lies in our willingness to follow the voice of our Savior across the waves. Jesus is calling to us. He wants us to come to him, to take refuge from the evil powers that threaten us in these chaotic times. The only certainty he offers—the only certainty we need—is to know that he is always there with us. When the waves submerge us, Jesus, the Lord of Creation, will take us by the hand. The God of all that is, seen and unseen, will pull us out of the chaos, worthy or not.
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