Sermon manuscript:
About a month ago we heard a reading that was similar to our
Gospel reading today. In that reading Jesus and the disciples embarked in a
boat to cross the Sea of Galilee. All of a sudden a great windstorm arose so
that water was filling the boat. The disciples ran back to Jesus, who was
sleeping in the stern, and said, “Don’t you care that
we are dying?” And Jesus rose from his sleep, rebuked the wind and the
waves, and there was a great calm. Then Jesus said, “Why
are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?”
Our reading today is similar. The disciples are again in a
boat, although this time Jesus was not with them. Jesus had sent them across while
he went up on a mountain to pray. In our reading today a strong wind arose, but
it was not so strong that the boat was in danger of sinking. It just made for
terribly hard work as they rowed against it. They rowed for hours until Jesus
came to them walking on the water. The disciples assumed that he was a ghost.
No human being can walk on water. Jesus told them that it was him. Don’t be
afraid. When he got into the boat, the wind ceased.
Then Mark says, “The disciples were
utterly astounded.” But I think that’s lacking something. Perhaps a more
colloquial translation might be: “The disciples were
out of their minds,” or “Their minds were blown.”
But not in a good way—at least according to Mark—because he goes on to say, “They were utterly astounded, because they did not understand
about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.”
Mark brings up the loaves. He is referring to what we heard
about last week—Jesus’s feeding of the 5,000. Jesus multiplied five loaves and
two fish so that 5,000 men ate until they were full. The disciples didn’t
understand this. Their hearts were hard. It seems that what Mark is saying is
that after such a magnificent display of Jesus’s power nothing should surprise
them—not even walking on water. The disciples didn’t get it. They were unbelieving.
The disciples’ unbelief is the aspect of both readings that
I’d like to focus on. In both readings the disciples are identified as lacking
faith. In the reading from about a month ago Jesus asked them, “Do you still have no faith?” And in our reading today
the disciples’ hearts are described as being hardened. These twelve men were
the people who were closest to Jesus. How could they have no faith?
Maybe they did—at least according to their own estimation. I
suspect that if we could travel back in time to interview the disciples, we might
find that they would not have agreed with Jesus’s and Mark’s characterization
of them. I think if we were to ask them whether they had faith they would have
said, “Of course we have faith!” That would be pretty convincing too. They had
left their livelihoods behind. They had followed Jesus. They heard his teaching.
They saw his miracles. These all seem to be very good reasons to believe that
they had faith, and yet they didn’t.
This shows that there is a difference between saying
you have faith or believing you have faith and actually having
faith. I think these disciples would have said that they had faith and believed
that they had faith, but when push came to shove they had no faith. This wasn’t
the last time either.
When Jesus was arrested the disciples quit believing in him.
The shepherd was struck and the sheep were scattered. This was despite their
intentions and vows of allegiance. Just a few hours before, when Jesus was
instituting the Lord’s Supper, all the disciples said that they would rather
die than forsake him. Peter said that even if all the other disciples would
leave him, Peter wouldn’t, but we know what Peter did a few hours later. When repeatedly
questioned whether he was one of Jesus’s disciples, Peter finally said, “I blankedy-blank don’t know the man!” And the rooster
crowed.
What we can learn from the example of the disciples is that even
the “best” Christians, who have the best advantages, can fool themselves when
it comes to the estimation of their faith. There’s no reason to believe that
the disciples were being anything but sincere on Maundy Thursday when they said
they were going to stick with Jesus no matter what. They believed their faith
was very strong. What they believed didn’t matter. They lost their faith. They
quit believing that Jesus could do anything.
The reason why I am focusing on the disciples’ unbelief is because
we can be like them. We might like to indulge in thinking about the strength of
our faith. We have our credentials just like the disciples. We’ve been members
of this church for a long time. We’ve been taught. We’ve sacrificed. We’ve sent
our kids to parochial school. And it’s not like these thoughts are altogether
bad or untrue. The disciples had similar thoughts: They had left everything for
Jesus. They learned from him. They didn’t give up following him. Certainly such
actions are not bad or without fruit.
Where a disciple’s faith goes wrong, however, is when faith
is put in anything besides Jesus. A false faith is a faith that’s in one’s own
self, in one’s own actions, in one’s own feelings in one’s own estimation of
faith. For disciples of Jesus the actions or feelings that we might believe in can
be quite pious, having a lot to do with Jesus. Certainly the apostles’ thoughts
and feelings were very much tied up with Jesus. But faith must be grounded in
Jesus as the one who acts, as the one who saves. He can do anything. We don’t
help him with our actions or feelings or estimations of our own faith. These
things seem as likely to hurt as to help.
Therefore, as we see so often in the Bible, it is not
uncommon for disciples to be humiliated. I know that’s a strong word. Being
humiliated is related to being humble. Being humble is the opposite of being
proud. Pride comes before the fall, so being humiliated is by no means the
worst thing that can happen to us. It’s not fun, but if we will accept it, it
can do us a world of good.
It was good for these disciples. It probably stung when
Jesus asked how it was that they still didn’t have faith. I’m sure they were
ashamed by how they got scared and ran away. This couldn’t have been how they
had envisioned their faith journey. But their dreams of grandeur were not as pious
as they appeared. They were a subtle replacement of Jesus being the Savior. Their
complimenting of themselves, and their measuring of themselves as to how they
were so much better than others—all these pleasurable thoughts weren’t worth a
hill of beans. They learned that by bitter experience. They were humiliated.
They couldn’t trust in themselves. They hadn’t stuck with Jesus. What was
wonderful, however, was how Jesus stuck by them. He stuck by them when they
were so foolish and ignoble and had so thoroughly embarrassed themselves.
This is an important lesson. What does it mean and what does
it look like to be a Christian? Having become Christians do we now soar into
the stratosphere on eagles’ wings? That would be nice! If you can pull it off,
then good for you! But don’t be surprised if your experience should be like the
apostles’ experience.
Your experience could be along the same lines as we heard
about in our Gospel reading. We can get worn out. The disciples had rowed
against that miserable wind for hours on end. We’re not at our best when we are
tired. I wouldn’t be surprised if the disciples well remembered who it was that
sent them on that miserable journey. Why had Jesus done this to them? Why had
he made them so miserable? The long and short of it was that the disciples were
not looking to Jesus for their strength, for their renewal, for their comfort,
for their peace. That is why they were out of their minds when he showed up.
They hadn’t been thinking of him.
Can’t you sympathize with that? I sure can. I do not think
on Jesus as much as I should. I am particularly bad at thinking of him when I’m
tired, when I’m worn down, when I’m looking for comfort. I don’t really believe
that Jesus can do anything.
So it goes. I am always repenting. I’ve disappointed myself
countless times. I wish that wasn’t so, but it is, and it’s not the worst
thing. It’s shown me over and over again that I am not trustworthy. I cannot
save myself. I have not graduated from God’s forgiving grace. I go crawling
back again and again: “Jesus, have mercy on me, a
sinner!” I’d like to believe in myself, but my weaknesses and sins teach
me that this would be a very foolish thing to believe in. If I am to have any
hope of being judged as righteous before God, Jesus must do it all.
Maybe this resonates with you too. We can be friends,
sharing our common love and trust in Jesus who saves disciples who are all too
often disappointing. Jesus, on the other hand, never disappoints. Trust in him,
not in yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment