Sermon for Sunday, August 9, 2026

August 9, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Matthew 14:22-33




We seem to be in the escalating miracles section of the lectionary. We might be able to explain away the miracle of last week’s reading by guessing that the crowds share more food as they are inspired by the actions of a few. But making a storm stop immediately—that miracle reveals the Divine nature of Jesus. No one could doubt after that miracle, right?


Perhaps not. Jesus has calmed a storm before today’s text in the Gospel of Matthew. It happens in the 8th chapter, when Jesus takes a nap in the boat as the storm rages around the disciples on the deck. When they are desperate enough to wake Jesus, he immediately stops the storm. The disciples are left puzzling over what they have seen, asking in verse 27 of chapter 8: “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”


The two stories have similarities beyond the storm and Jesus’ power over it. In both stories, Jesus has been ministering to a crowd. In today’s text, instead of getting in the boat with the disciples, Jesus sends them out in the boat and dismisses the crowds. Finally, he has time to go to the mountain to pray.


In the ancient world, particularly the Jewish world, the mountain is where one goes to meet God. Moses gets the 10 Commandments on a mountain. Prophets get Divine insight on mountain tops. Ancient ears would have heard about Jesus going to pray, and they might have interpreted that verb in a different way than we do. They might have heard about Jesus on a mountain and assumed that not only did Jesus talk to God, but also that God spoke back.


Ancient ears would have heard the part about the boat and the sea differently too. In the ancient world, the sea is a place associated with chaos, and a storm at sea would be evidence of a world out of control, depths that will swallow up even the best fisherman or sailor. Similarly, the early hours of the morning are evidence of the kind of dark night of the soul that we see periodically in the Bible—like the time Jesus prays in the Garden of Gethsemene.


So, when the men see Jesus, it’s not a surprise that they think they are seeing a ghost or some other creature rising from the depths to finish up the process of destroying them. Jesus speaks, and even then, they’re not sure of what they see. The storm still rages, after all. Can they even hear him?


Peter’s words—if it is you-- make me think that they can hear, but they just can’t process it. And who can blame them? When they last saw Jesus, less than 12 hours ago, he was headed in a different direction. And they may see him as a miracle worker, but even miracle workers can’t walk on the water in the middle of a storm.


Jesus can—and Peter can too, before he lets his analytical brain take control. Many a sermon has been preached on faith and how our rational brains might undermine our relationship with God, just the way we see here. Peter sinks, Jesus saves him, and still the storm rages around them.


Maybe it’s not Peter’s rational brain that fails him, that gets in the way of his faith, but fear. It’s not that Peter says, “Wait, I’m walking on water, and humans shouldn’t be able to do this.” No, it’s the wind that howls in his ears that makes him afraid and vulnerable.


I suspect the same is true for most of us. It’s not our science trained brains that get us distracted from God, but it is fear that deafens our ears to the call of Christ. But today’s story reminds us that it often takes an experience of soul rattling fear that leaves us open to finding God in the midst of the raging chaos that surrounds us. When our lives are progressing smoothly, it’s easy to think that we don’t need God. It’s when our lives fall apart that we find ourselves reaching out to God, God who has always been there, reaching out to us.


Today’s Gospel ends with the disciples recognizing the divinity of Jesus, which is not how the earlier story of Jesus calming the storm ends. Is it the difference between calming the storm from the safety of the boat in chapter 8 and walking on the water in the storm, as he does here? Is it that they have seen more and more that convinces them and by chapter 14, they are ready to confess their faith?


Maybe it is because they are Jews, shaped by the Passover story. With the pairing of last week’s Gospel with this week’s, we see Jesus re-enacting this ancient story in some key ways: there’s food in the wilderness and deliverance from waters that threaten. And there’s another echo of Exodus; when the disciples think they are seeing a ghost, Jesus identifies himself by saying “It is I.” Hebrew scholars note that Jesus uses the same words in the same form of Hebrew that God uses in the burning bush to tell Moses who speaks from the bush.


We are not Jews shaped by the Passover story, but Christians shaped by the story of a Messiah. Listen to those words again from verse 27: "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid." Which part of that passage do you hear differently than others might? For me, it’s that ending, “Do Not be afraid.” From the beginning of the story of Jesus to the end, these words repeat: “Do not be afraid.” Mary and Joseph both receive this message, as does Jesus. And so do the disciples, throughout their time with Jesus.


But too many of us ignore the first part of what Jesus says. It’s not enough to train ourselves to not be afraid. We also need to take heart—or as an earlier translation says, “Take courage” or “Have courage.” If we don’t need to be afraid, we should be liberated to dare to do more.


Our courage might fail us, of course. Just because Jesus meets us in the storm, it doesn’t mean an end to all of our troubles. In today’s Gospel, the storm continues. And unlike the storm in chapter 8, in chapter 14 Jesus doesn’t command the storm to stop. Perhaps it ends, as all storms do, when they’ve expended all available energy.


Another interpretation of “Take heart” is “Be of good cheer,” or even “cheer up,” which might change our approach to the text considerably. We don’t need to be afraid. On the contrary, we can take heart and be of good cheer, because Jesus shows us again and again that his power is greater than any earthly power.


I wish I could tell you that a life following Jesus is one where there are no storms, but endless parties with everyone fed and leftovers collected. Jesus doesn’t promise us that life. But he does promise that if we fix our eyes on Jesus, if we listen to his words instead of the winds howling in our ears, we’ll survive the storm. Maybe it’s because we have faith enough to ignore our fear and walk on the water. It’s more likely that we survive because we fail, and in that moment of failure, we cry out for help. And Jesus is there, as Jesus has always been there, hand outstretched.


With the help of Jesus, we’ll make it back to the battered boat, and the battered boat will make it to the other side. All we need to do is let Jesus grab hold of us and steer us back to safety.