Hello my friends,

This week's lectionary passage is from Matthew 14:22-33 where Jesus famously walks on the water while the disciples were caught in a raging storm. Reading it in preparation for today's newsletter, I felt as if it spoke so clearly to our storm today, especially in how the original Greek speaks of the disciple's experience. So, with that, I want to invite you to reflect on this passage with me as we are in the middle of our own storm too.

Recommended resources:

​-Zina Jacque's Commentary on Matthew 14:22-33 This was one of the most powerful commentaries on this passage I have read in a long time. It helped me greatly in writing my newsletter today. I encourage you to read it before or after today's reflection.

​-Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times By Soong-Chan Rah In light of today's passage, I wanted to again recommend this wonderful book, which draws on a clear reading of both scripture and American history in calling Christians to lament as a call to justice in our troubled world today.

In The Storm.

Matthew 14:22-33

Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.

Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.

But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

Our Storm.

There are seasons of life that can only be described as a storm. The waters of life and the world feel like they are constantly raging. All the familiar landmarks disappear. The winds grow stronger than we expected. The waves rise higher than we imagined. The navigating skills and experience that once seemed sufficient suddenly feel inadequate. We row and row and row, yet make little progress. Exhaustion settles into our bones and our souls.

We are living in such a season right now. We are tired. Tired of witnessing cruelty masquerade as strength. Tired of watching vulnerable people become targets. Tired of seeing lies rewarded and compassion ridiculed. Tired of watching people invoke the name of Jesus while pursuing power in ways that are completely foreign to the Jesus of the Gospels.

For many, it has not only created political exhaustion. It has created spiritual exhaustion. Relationships have fractured. Churches have become places of grief rather than refuge. Friends and family members feel like they have become strangers. Many who love Jesus deeply are struggling to know what it means to belong to the church when so much harm is being done under Christ's name. And perhaps the hardest part is that we never asked for any of this.

That is one reason I find Matthew's account of Jesus walking on the water and calming the storm so compelling.

On The Boat.

The passage begins with a detail that is easy to miss in English translations. In many translations, Matthew tells us that Jesus "made" the disciples get into the boat. But the Greek word is much stronger.

The word is anankazō. It means to compel, constrain, or even force.

As theologian Zina Jacque writes in her commentary on this passage, ”Jesus did not give the disciples a choice. He put them in that boat the way a teacher puts a test on your desk. You did not ask for it. You may not be ready for it. But it is here, and you are going to take it."

I cannot help but think of that every time I look at our world and the state of Christianity. None of us asked for this moment. None of us asked to navigate a time when truth and relationships feel so fragile. None of us asked to watch Christian nationalism distort the faith we love. None of us asked to witness the rise of cruelty, authoritarianism, fear, and division. None of us asked for the grief that comes from all of this. Yet here we are. Together, “in the same boat.”

And perhaps one of the most important truths of this passage is that Jesus knew exactly where the disciples were headed. The storm did not surprise him. The waves did not catch him off guard. The darkness did not mean he had abandoned them. He knew. And he sent them anyway.

Matthew tells us that the boat was being battered by the waves. Yet the Greek word is even more vivid than that. Matthew uses the word basanizō, a term associated with torment and agony. This was not an inconvenience or just mild turbulence. This was the kind of storm that exhausted every resource they possessed. It was a storm that had them convinced that they wouldn’t make it out alive.

This is saying a lot too because many of the disciples were experienced fishermen. They knew boats. They knew storms. They knew these waters. Yet none of that was enough. Their expertise could not save them. Their strength could not save them. Their strategies could not save them. I think that is what makes this story so relatable.

Many of us have reached the limits of what we know how to do. We have written the letters. Made the calls. Attended the meetings and the rallies. Had the difficult conversations. Studied the issues. Prayed the prayers. Shown up for the people we love. And still the storm continues. Still the waves crash, and the darkness lingers. What are we supposed to do now?

Take Heart.

As we read on, we see that as dawn nears after a long night of struggle, Jesus comes walking toward them on the sea. Not around the storm or after the storm. He walks through the storm.

The disciples are terrified. Matthew tells us that they think they are seeing a ghost. I may be reading too much into this moment, but I think the disciples think Jesus might be a ghost for a deeper reason than the conclusion a tired mind would jump to upon seeing someone walking on water. I think they conclude he is a ghost because their terror and exhaustion from the storm have made his absence feel all but forgotten. So much so that they are just being haunted by the ghostly flicker of hope and assurance they once had from him. I think many of us can resonate with that experience.

But then Jesus speaks. He says, “Take heart. I am. Do not be afraid."

Most English translations render his words as "It is I," but the Greek is more profound. Jesus says, ego eimi. "I AM."

It is the same divine name that echoes through the story of Moses and the burning bush. The same God who created the seas. The same God who rules over chaos. The same God who has always been present with God's people. In the middle of the storm, Jesus does not first explain. He does not offer a strategy. He does not provide a timeline. He offers himself. "I AM."

That is the hope of this passage. Not that storms do not exist. Not that suffering is imaginary. Not that everything will be fixed immediately. The hope is that Jesus comes to us in the midst of it. The hope is that we are not abandoned. The hope is that the presence of chaos is not evidence of God's absence.

For centuries, Christians have found comfort in this story by seeing the boat as a symbol of the church. In fact, many sanctuaries were intentionally designed to resemble the hull of a ship. Even today, the central part of many church buildings is called the nave, from the Latin word navis, which means “ship.”

That image has always been powerful to me. The church is a boat carrying people through dangerous waters. Yet if we are honest, many people today feel as though the boat itself is taking on water. The church has become a source of the storm for many. Some have been wounded by it. Some have been pushed away by it. Some are struggling to recognize it. I understand that grief. I carry some of it myself.

But this passage reminds me that the church’s ultimate hope was never the boat itself. The hope was always the One who comes walking across the waves. The church may fail. Leaders may fail. Institutions may fail. Christians may fail. But Jesus remains. And Jesus comes. Again and again. Through every century. Through every empire. Through every storm. Through every failure. Through every moment when hope feels impossible.

"Lord, Save Me."

This makes Peter's experience all the more important for us as well. When he begins to sink, his prayer is remarkably short. "Lord, save me.” That is all. No eloquence, no theology, no polished language, just a desperate cry for help. And immediately Jesus reaches out his hand.

I know that is where many of us find ourselves today. Beyond easy answers. Beyond certainty. Beyond our own strength. Simply praying: “Lord, save us!” Save those who are suffering. Save those being targeted. Save our planet. Save those losing hope. Save your church. Save us from becoming what we oppose. Save us from despair. Save us from fear. Save us from forgetting who you are.

And the promise of this story is that Jesus hears such prayers. Even in the moments it is hardest to believe. Because of this answer to their prayers, the disciples eventually arrive at a confession they have never made before: "Truly you are the Son of God.” This phrase appears only twice in Matthew’s Gospel, the second time by the Roman centurion at the foot of Jesus’ cross.

It is a confession born not in comfort but in crisis. Not in certainty but in struggle. Not on calm waters but in a storm. Sometimes the deepest truths about God are not learned in seasons of ease. They are discovered in the fourth watch of the night, when every resource has been exhausted, and all that remains is the presence of Jesus.

If you are tired today, know that you are not alone. If you are grieving, know that your grief is real. If you are frightened by what you see unfolding around you, know that your fear is legitimate. Just like the disciples were.

What I struggle with in this season is why God would allow this storm we are in to begin with. I struggle with all the suffering and harm it is causing. I struggle with the helplessness and hopelessness I and so many others are experiencing because of this storm. These are the things I continue to wrestle with.

So, what I am trying to hold onto from this passage is that the storm is not the whole story. The darkness is not the whole story. The cruelty is not the whole story. Just as the storm is all the disciples could see, it feels like that is all we can see, too.

What I am holding onto is that Jesus is still coming, and when he arrives, he will not be a stranger. He will be the same One who has carried his people through every storm before. The one who has brought healing to the damage those previous storms have caused.

The One who still speaks over the chaos: Take heart. I AM. Do not be afraid.

Sometimes I find it helpful to pair those words of Jesus with my breathing. Breathe in and say, “Take heart. I AM.” Then breathe out and say, “Do not be afraid.” Over and over again. There is something comforting about hearing your own voice say those words as you breathe deeply.

Never forget, we are in this boat together.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,

Many of us are tired.

The winds have been strong, and the waves have been relentless.

We carry grief for our communities, our churches, our nation, and our world.

We carry sorrow for those who are suffering.

We carry fear about what comes next.

We carry disappointment in leaders, institutions, and even fellow believers.

And sometimes we wonder how much longer we can keep rowing.

Meet us in the storm.

Remind us that you have not abandoned us.

When the darkness feels overwhelming, help us hear your voice above the wind.

When we are exhausted, strengthen us.

When we are discouraged, encourage us.

When we are afraid, remind us that you are still Lord over the waters.

Forgive us when we place our trust in power rather than love.

Forgive us when fear shapes us more than faith.

Forgive us when despair convinces us that goodness cannot prevail.

Teach us to trust your presence even when we cannot yet see the shore.

And when all we can pray are the simple words, "Lord, save us," remind us that those words are enough.

Give us courage to keep showing up.

Give us compassion to keep loving.

Give us wisdom to keep discerning.

Give us hope to keep believing that your Kingdom is still coming.

For you are still the Great I AM.

Still present.

Still faithful.

Still carrying your people through the storm.

Amen.

Now I'd like to hear from you! Did you find this helpful? What thoughts came to your mind as you read? Feel free to respond to this email and share your thoughts with me. I look forward to reading them. A 30 Day Day Devotional: I wrote a daily devotional in hopes to provide a companion for people seeking to follow Jesus through the season of we are currently navigating together. You can find out more below: $20.00 Following Jesus In A World Obsessed With Empires: 30 Days of reclaiming the hope, compassion, and justice of Jesus. Today, our world can often feel overwhelmed by darkness, division, and despair. I created this 30-day devotional to... Read more Get it now! ​ Ways to support: If you'd like to support this project, you can do so through one-time-gift of any amount you feel is right. You can also subscribe through a $5/mo, $15/mo, or $25/mo. Several others have also asked for a recurring gift option that is different from the ones offered here, like this one. If you'd like me to set up a different option for you, please just send me an email with the word "support" in the subject line. As always, I really want to thank all of you for reading and for all the ways you support me and this project every single week. I'm thankful for the ways we are building this together and hope it creates a lasting, positive change in our world along the way! I sincerely appreciate you all, Ben Remember, you can now view this and all previous newsletters as well as invite friends to join through this link: https://benjamin-cremer.ck.page/profile.

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