Matthew 14:22-33, Romans 10:5-15
A man appears before the pearly gates.
“Have you ever done anything of particular merit?” St. Peter asks.
“Well, I can think of one thing,” the man offers. “Once I came upon a rough looking biker
gang who were threatening a young woman. I directed them to leave her alone, but they
wouldn’t listen. So I approached the largest and meanest looking biker. I smacked him on
the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring and threw it on the ground, and told
him, ‘Leave her alone now or you’ll answer to me.’”
St. Peter was impressed. “When did this happen?” “A couple minutes ago.” 1
I suspect Peter knows a little bit about this. Impulse control was never his strong-suit
either. In today’s story, there are lessons to be learned from this disciple who jumps out of
the boat in a raging storm— lessons on courage and faith, and most of all recognizing that
resilience doesn’t come from single human will-power.
In Matthew’s gospel, this episode follows the death of John and then the feeding of the
five thousand. Hearing about his cousin, and predecessor in this movement, Jesus is
reminded of the risk he and all his followers are assuming. When the miraculous meal was
finished, Jesus insisted the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side of
the lake while he dismissed the people. After the crowd dispersed, Jesus took himself up
on the mountainside to be by himself and pray. He stayed there, alone, way into the night.
The disciples’ boat was out in the middle of the sea, when a storm came upon them. Their
boat was “tormented by the waves” (14:24), Matthew wrote. Battered, or tossed, our
translations say, emphasizing the violent beating they were taking. You can imagine what
this is like –a squall of wind and rain in your face, muscles exhausted from holding on for
dear life, working every maneuver they knew to keep the boat upright. They are spent,
their resilience tested to their limits. It is around 4:00am, the fourth watch, the darkest
hours of the night. The time of night when even sleepers are jolted awake by worries and
fears. That is precisely when Jesus shows up. 2
Is this a test of their strength and stamina?
A test to see who they will turn to in storms of life?
In their rain-soaked fatigue and stress, they see a figure coming at them and don’t
recognize that it is him. Jesus is quick to reassure them, “Courage! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.”
Impulsive Peter reacts saying, “If it is you, call me to come to you on the water.” It is a bold
idea, risky. What will Jesus say? “C’mon then,” Jesus said to him. Peter jumped into the
stormy sea and started walking out to Jesus.
We know what happens next. The wind picks up. Peter gets scared and starts to sink. We
give him such a hard time about this. Tsk. Tsk. You of little faith. And yet, I think most of us
would lose our nerve in the same circumstances. Most of us would never have even gotten
out of the boat.
I learned to water ski when I was about 11 years old. It was Memorial Day on Percy Priest
lake. We had gone upriver where there were far fewer boats, and the water was much
smoother. There I was bobbing in the water in my life vest, struggling to keep the tops of
my skis above water, hold onto the rope, let the boat pull me up. All those things you’ve
got to do at the same time if you want to glide across the top of the water and not get
pulled under. Everyone in my family could ski, so they were all shouting instructions.
Remember, I am the youngest child, so I was used to it. I know I took some big spills that
day and drank a gallon of lake water, but eventually, I wobbled up to a standing position
and held on… I was doing it! Then my father steered the boat in such a way to force me to
cross the wake into smoother water. I tried to hold my position right behind the boat. I
had never crossed the wake before!
“One ski at a time!” I told myself. “I’ll try one ski at a time.”
Crossing the wake is a commitment. If you’re on two skis, it’s a two ski, single action
maneuver. A skier can’t successfully cross the wake one ski at a time – slowly and carefully.
You have to commit and go for it, or the wake will take you out. I learned that lesson the
hard way. One ski went this way and the other ski went that way and I somersaulted
across the water.
Do you think Peter’s problem that day was a lack of commitment? Was he dragging his
feet? Did he simply need to have more faith? “…Keep his eyes on Jesus, as if faith is a
matter of improved focus.”3
That’s not the lesson Zina Jacque says Peter was meant to
learn. What was it then? She says the answer is in the three words Peter cried out, “Lord,
save me!”
She says the most important lessons, the ones that define us, the ones that live in our
bodies are not usually learned when everything is going well. No, we learn the lessons that
change the way we move through the world “in crucible moments, the fourth watch,” in
the storms of life. “Lord, save me!” Some might say that sounds like doubt, but I somehow
think it sounds like faith.
When we hear the phrase, You of little faith, and when we, ourselves, struggle to have faith,
we’ll say, “I guess I just have to try harder.” Let me put some slack in your ski rope. Faith is
not the sort of thing a person acquires by trying harder.4
You know, Old Faithful, the geyser in Yellowstone National Park that erupts every 90 –
100 minutes? John Ortberg wrote the following trying to help his readers grasp this idea,
that faith isn’t something you can will yourself to have, or try harder to achieve:
Imagine if someone were to say to you, “I find myself doubting Old Faithful. I’m just
not sure it can be trusted.” What would your advice be? Not “Try harder to believe!”
The best advice for such a person would be, “Just hang around Old Faithful. Get to
know Old Faithful better.” And because Old Faithful is faithful, the better you know
it, the more you will trust it.
It is the same with God. Never [It’s futile to] try to have more faith [to conjure more
faith] – just get to know God better. And because God is faithful, the better you
know [God], the more you’ll trust [God].
“Lord, save me!” Some will say it sounds like doubt, but I say it sounds like faith. It sounds
like someone who trusts that Jesus will do exactly that because he has seen him do it
before. On another boat, in another storm, Jesus had already shown them he could make
the wind and waves obey him.
We all experience tides that threaten to take us under. That’s what it is to be human, to
live and breathe in this world. The storm, the dark night is always coming. Some would say
that the miracle for us today is not walking on water, but stepping out into the world each
day and daring to put one foot in front of the other.5
That takes courage. Life with God is
not without risk or danger, in fact, if you’re doing it right, a life with God will call you to do
hard things you didn’t know you could do. If he didn’t know it already, Peter seemed to
learn that walking on water was not something he did alone, but something Jesus did with
him. And then they both end up in the boat with all the other disciples. Neighbor, walking
on water is not something we are meant to do alone.
I loved what Kendall Rae Rothaus observed in this passage, “Resilience doesn’t come from
sheer will-power [that is our own human power]. Resilience is one part faith, two parts
friendship. It’s a team effort. Resilience is made possible when there is a hand to hold tight,
one that keeps you from going all the way under.”6
1 Ortberg, John, If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat, Zondervan 2001
2 Jacque, Zine, Working Preacher commentary, Matthew 14:22-33, August 2026
3 Ibid
4 Ortberg
5 From a Thich Nhat Hahn quote
6 Rothaus, Kendall Rae, Sojourners Magazine, Living the Word, Resilience Takes Friends, Aug 9 2026