Eleventh
Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 14A)
August 9, 2026
Text: Matt. 14:22-33
He is the Lord of heaven and earth, yet He is a Man of flesh and blood. And so, still in
grief over St. John’s death, and after a full day of compassionate teaching and healing and the miraculous feeding of the 5,000, our Lord Jesus bids His disciples get into the boat, and go before Him to the other side, while He dismisses the crowds. Once again, He is seeking time alone to pray. To commune with His heavenly Father, and be strengthened for the task before Him. Just as we need when we are weary and burdened and sad. He is a Man. Like us. One of us.
But He is also God, the eternal Son of the Father. And so, in the fourth watch of the night, between 3 and 6 am, seeing His disciples a long way off from shore, straining and struggling, beaten by the waves, the wind against them, Jesus comes to them, walking on the sea. The sea… creation untamed. Theologically (and superstitiously in the days of the Apostles) interpreted as the place of
chaos and swirling demonic forces. The boat… and you know that in the Scriptures, boats and ships and arks are generally pictures of the Church… the boat is in the midst of that. Threatened by that. Pounded by that. And the people inside the boat are terrified by that. The same is true of the Good Ship Church today.
Jesus, though… He is walking on it, like it’s nothing. He is the One who, as Job says, “trample(s) the waves of the sea” (9:8; ESV). He is the One who made a way for the Israelites across the Red Sea on dry ground. He is the One of whom the Psalmist sings: He “commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight; they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits end. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he
delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven” (Ps. 107:25-30).
But the disciples don’t know that in this moment. Would you? Have you ever seen a Man
walking on the water? They think this is a ghost! A Φάντασμά in Greek… a phantasm, the sea demon, come to drag them down into the deep.
Jesus knows their fear. And He knows what to do about it. He speaks into it. “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matt. 14:27).
Powerful words, those. And Jesus still speaks them to His Church, to His Nave full of disciples, to you. In the midst of the swirling demonic chaos of life this side of the veil, beaten and blown by wind and wave, wondering if you’ll make it, and if you’re safe here in this rocking hull… Jesus speaks
these words to you: “Take heart!” You know, unlike our words in time of trouble… as when we say, “there, there,” to someone in distress… Jesus’ Words do what they say. So that, when He bids us take heart, He gives us to do it. He literally encourages us. That is, He puts the courage into us, so that,
where once there was no courage, now there is, in Him.
And then, “it is I.” What a weak translation. Jesus is not just saying, “Hey guys, don’t worry, it’s Me!” No, He says, “ἐγώ εἰμι” “I AM.” That is, “the God who saved Noah through the Flood, is now stomping on that Flood, and coming for you.”
Now, understand, that is even more frightening than a phantasm, were it not for the next words. “Do not be afraid.” God… Jesus… even the angels have to preach that sermon every time they appear, because sinners know… and the disciples are sinners, just like you and me… sinners know they cannot come into the presence of God’s holiness without dying and being damned. Apart from God’s intervention, that is. The sermon, “Do not be afraid,” is the Gospel that God has reconciled sinners, the disciples, you and me, to Himself by the suffering and death of His Son on the cross. He has taken away our sin. And so, the crucified, but risen Lord Jesus appears to these same disciples in the
Upper Room on Easter, and preaches to them, “Peace be with you” (John 20:19). It’s the same sermon. “Do not be afraid.” “I have come, not to do you to death and damn you, but to save you, and cast out fear.”
It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? Here, in the midst of the wind and the waves and the very real phantasms, and this old bulging bulk, leaking and threatening every moment to burst at the seams. That’s all our eyes can see this side of the veil. It is often difficult to keep our ears (the organ of faith) on the Lord’s Words. And our eyes where He has promised to be for us, hidden in the Means of Grace. We want a clear demonstration.
So, Peter… who so often speaks for us, doesn’t he?... asks for the proof we all want. He’s not looking for a cheap miracle, here. He is longing for indisputable assurance. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water” (Matt. 14:28). “Come,” Jesus says (v. 29). One Word from the Savior’s mouth. That’s what does it. The power is not Peter’s unshakeable faith. It is not
Peter’s apostolic piety. “Come,” Jesus says, and Peter comes. And he, too, walks on the water! As long as his ears are on that Word, and his eyes are on his Lord. But we know what happens. It would happen to us, too, maybe even quicker than it did to Peter. He sees the wind. He remembers just how impossible this all must be. Humans don’t walk on water. They sink. And in stormy seas like this, they die. Down he goes, to certain death. But he cries out on the way. Like you should do in your own moment of crisis, when all appears to be lost and hopeless. “Lord, save me” (v. 30). (You can remember that prayer, can’t you? That one’s a keeper!) And what does the Lord do? What He always does. What He came to do. He saves. Immediately. He reaches out His hand… the hand soon to reach out across the grains of the wood and grab hold of the nail… and He grabs hold of Peter. Just as He
does for you and me. When we’re sinking, and we know it. When we’re sinking, and we don’t know it.
Now, this merits some meditation. What does He say to Peter, and to all of them, and to us? “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (v. 31). First of all, He doesn’t say no faith. Little faith. Faith that struggles with doubt. Faith that has difficulty keeping ears and eyes on Jesus. (Well, that’s ours, isn’t it?) Faith that has not yet come to its fulness, as it will when it gives way to sight. But faith nonetheless. Faith that receives Jesus, and His salvation, and all His gifts. And then, the reminder. There is no reason to doubt, when Jesus is with you, and for you. Take heart. He is God. The sea belongs to Him. And so do the demons, though they don’t appear to know it yet. Or, more
probably, they’re pretending it isn’t so. And so do you. You belong to Him. And you do know it. So, do not be afraid.
And then, there is this. Jesus gets in the boat with His disciples. And the wind ceases. And the disciples worship Him, and confess: “Truly you are the Son of God” (v. 33). Full circle. True Man. True God. The One who saves. They receive it. That is, they receive Him. They believe Him. And they confess Him. What is that, but the Divine Service?
And so, what of the Good Ship Church? And what of this bucket of boards that is our beloved Augustana? And what of you, in it? Take heart. Jesus comes to you here. Do not fear. See, this is right where you need to be when you’re buffeted by the swirling mass of chaos, and the phantasms threaten to pull you down. You are safe, here. Because He is here. Speaking into your fear. Grabbing
hold of you with His true body and blood. The disciples are here, too, in this one, holy, Christian, and apostolic boat. And our brothers and sisters, throughout the ages, and in every corner of the world. As heaven comes down in the Person of Jesus, with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. Communing with your Father. In the Spirit. O you of little faith… why doubt? Jesus is here. He is here for you. “I AM,” He says. Truly, He is the Son of God. Let us worship Him, and confess it. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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