Sermon prepared for
by Gregory S. Kaurin, associate pastor
Text: Matthew 14:22-33
Sermon:
Love Lifted Me
Click to go to: homepage
– or – sermon
menu – or – sermon archive
It’s possible that I’ve shared this story with you before, but I think of it every time I read this story about Peter trying to walk on the water. It happened when I was probably four years old. I had just seen the Disney version of the Peter Pan story and decided that I wanted to fly. That seems like an impossible goal—but not to a four-year-old with a plan.
One day my chance had come. You see, I had lost a tooth. That meant the tooth fairy would make her visit. Sure enough, the next day there was the quarter under the pillow, and the note from the tooth fairy, but I skipped all that to the really important stuff. I knew that the tooth fairy also sprinkled her glitter, her pixie dust, all over my pillow and headboard. So, I gathered as much of it as I could, smeared it all over my body, and got up on top of my headboard. There I was, standing on top of my headboard, and to this day I remember trying with all my might to think the “happy thoughts” needed to start floating and soaring like the Lost Boys. “Think happy, think happy!” Then, I jumped…BOOM! I fell like a rock. It must not have been happy enough. So I got back up on the headboard, “Happy thoughts, happy thoughts!” And, jump…BOOM!
My parents were in the next room and came running. They opened the door and asked me, “Greg, what in the world is going on in here?”
In my frustration, I cried, “I’m trying to fly, but I just can’t think happy enough!” “I just can’t think happy enough.”
And so we move from my failure as Peter Pan to look to Peter the disciple, who started out on the water, but just couldn’t seem to keep his faith up, and he started to sink. We are quick to criticize him for blowing it, but last week we were discussing this passage at one of our Bible studies when Deuane Kuenzi, our director of music and worship, made an important observation. We rush so quickly to criticize Peter for his lack of faith that we forget to be amazed by the fact that he actually did take a few steps on top of water! I’ve certainly never taken more than a couple steps on top of water, and there Peter was, in the wind and waves, starting to amble toward Jesus.
Then, Peter looked away, toward the wind and waves; and he became self-conscious and afraid. So we answer the question, “Why did Peter start to sink?” Because he began to fear, to lose trust and faith.
I think, though, that we should quickly follow that with another question. Why didn’t Peter sink all the way, to the bottom of the sea? It’s because this man of little faith had enough faith to call out to the one who could save him. He turned back to Jesus and said, “Lord, save me.” And “Immediately,” our Bible tells us, “Jesus reached out and lifted him up.” When things are turning dark in your life—even what little faith you feel you’ve got left—use it and turn to the one who can help you. He will lift you up better and faster than any wishes or happy thoughts.
The fact that I couldn’t fly like Peter Pan, no matter how hard I wished flows into the next story I want to tell you, about my own faith life. Maybe telling it will help you understand me, and why I preach and teach what I do, the way that I do. It’s a story about my own conversion experience—a conversion experience that may have almost destroyed what little faith I had. It happened while I was in college. I went on a weekend retreat with a few other friends. It was with some Christian group; I honestly don’t remember what affiliation it was.
At this retreat they got us up early, sent us to bed late, and the meals were rather small. I realized some time later that these are the same tactics used for brainwashing, (and that’s why—when planning retreats—I think it’s very important to schedule a good balance of rest, food and study). Anyway, they had us carefully studying our scripture in group Bible study. There were times of intense prayer. Sometimes they were very confrontational with us.
By the end of the weekend, nearly all of us had been reduced to tears, including myself. We were in tears about how lukewarm our faith had been, how pitiful our prayer life was, how distracted by all the worldly temptations we were, and how pitiful our church backgrounds were. Many of us came from churches that seemed to preach just about the love and grace of God, not enough about our responsibility, and the need for our fruits of faith, (our prayers, Bible study and knowledge and actions) to prove that our faith was real. That weekend, they convinced me that (at least up until that moment) I was that little man with a very little faith.
And so, with tears and arms around each other, many of us resolved that we would be different. From then on, we would maintain our personal relationship with Jesus Christ. We would be faithful in our prayers, and Bible study. We would keep our inner thoughts pure.
It struck me as interesting, as each of us made our commitments, how many of the others had come back to this retreat to renew their resolution. It was the first time I was really exposed to the term, “backsliding,” and there I heard it over and over again. For some this was the second, third, and even the fourth year in a row that they had rededicated themselves to this true Christian life.
Well, finally the weekend was over, and we returned to our classes. I got some needed rest and a good meal, but I was determined to follow through on my resolutions to Christ. I was reading the Bible, praying, and memorizing scripture.
Things were going along fine, and then it happened: I had a bad thought about someone! And then another! I thought all those other backsliders were bad, and this was just my second day out! I prayed, “O God I’ll do better. Don’t give up on me!”
Then, I dropped one of my Bible reading and memorization goals. I had just gotten out of the boat with my new-found faith, and already I was sinking down. I was sure that my Jesus was standing there beside me with his arms crossed, shaking his head at me. I was failing him; I was letting this newfound relationship slip away.
By the second week, I just about gave up on the whole thing. I couldn’t maintain all these things that were supposed to be the fruits of a real faith. I came to believe that I didn’t have what it took, that I wasn’t capable of a real faith.
Before that weekend, I had been thinking about the seminary and the possibility of going into the ministry, but considering how poorly I was doing in those weeks that followed, I decided that it was a ridiculous idea for someone like me, and instead I started thinking about becoming a Latin teacher. I just couldn’t wish hard enough to make myself into a really good Christian with all the fruits to prove it, and at the retreat they made it clear that lukewarm Christianity wasn’t good enough, almost worse than nothing at all. I had almost given up.
Then, out of desperation, I did something. I went to church! I went back to one of those “lukewarm” Lutheran churches that they’d warned me against. There I heard the pastor talk about the love of God again, and the sacrifice of Jesus, the same message I’d heard thousands of times for years before. There I saw the congregation, still listening politely or snoozing quietly. One side of me was critical, “Here we are, the same ‘ol, same ‘ol!” But another side craved what I was hearing and feeling. So I went again. And I went to the chapel services there at my Lutheran college, and heard that same message again, and again. And slowly, I healed.
Ever since that weekend, I have come to realize that I have a real strange reaction to the phrase and question of whether I have a “personal relationship” with Jesus Christ. I’ll admit to you, it’s not an entirely rational reaction. But, do I have a “personal relationship” with Jesus Christ?
Well, yes, I do! And I certainly preach and teach that our relationship to God, to Jesus Christ, needs to be real and personal, and that there is nothing casual about Christianity. Our relationship, our faith, needs to produce fruits. We preach and teach all these same things. We truly do need to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, our Savior.
But why do I feel my blood pressure and defenses all go up when I hear that specific phrase? Recently, I’ve finally come to realize that it takes me back to that weekend. I still feel some residual resentment and anger over my experience.
However, (besides the brainwashing technique) what did they do wrong at that retreat? What was wrong with what they were teaching? Don’t I talk about the fruits of faith, the need to pray and read your Bible and act on your faith?
Yes, I do. But here’s the problem. They talked about our personal relationship with Jesus Christ, only they hinged that relationship and centered it on the fruits of faith. They convinced me, and all of us there, that these external things—what we were doing, and how we were doing—defined our faith.
Let me make it plain: our relationship with Jesus Christ needs to be centered on Jesus Christ! It is not on how we’re doing or failing, not on the winds and waves out here, not on the personal struggles going on in here, and not even on how good or bad we are in the disciplines of prayer and Bible study. All these things are meant to support our faith, not define it.
What defines your faith in Christ is Christ, his promises to you. Stay focused on the one who has promised that his love will lift you. Anything else will bury you. We must center on Jesus and his love, and let all the rest follow.
The mark of Baptism, the cross that is sealed onto your forehead, is not just God’s claim on you; it is his promise to you. Wear it like it’s your life-line to forgiveness, salvation and love. Don’t try to shove it in your pocket. Rejoice in your personal relationship with Christ. Enjoy it. Trust it.
Read your Bible, pray to him, not because you’re trying to make your faith more real, or to prove it to God, or to anyone else. Instead, read your Bible and pray because God has promised to speak to you through both of them! Don’t just slog through the book of Numbers, or any other book in the Bible, just because you’ve set some goal. Don’t run through tedious rituals and long prayers just because you’ve promised yourself to be more religious! Let the Spirit guide you through the Bible. Follow your curiosity. Enjoy the stories. Stop and dig deeper when you hear the Spirit’s voice whispering to you. Use prayer and worship as a time to be open and enjoy the presence of God who is right here beside you. You don’t need to convince him to listen, or to be in your life! Just accept him as being there, loving you, just as he promised. Let him open your heart to further joy.
The more time I have spent with this frame of mind, the more sure I am that the fruits of the Spirit are really just actions of gratefulness and joy for the grace and love of God…and that anything more forced than that is a retreat into the Pharisaic ways that Christ condemned. That is backsliding. Even if you could become perfect at following a strict regiment of all the Christian disciplines, without joy and love, it is backsliding. It is not Christianity.
Relish and love your relationship with Christ. Focus on him. What is he saying? The same thing he was teaching St. Peter, “Trust me, I love you. Trust me, I forgive you. Trust me, I’ll hold you up and give you eternal life. Know me, and by knowing me, you know the mind of God, who loves you.”
Peter didn’t sink to the bottom because he had enough of his “little faith” to always, always call to the one who immediately reached out, lovingly, with words that said, “Don’t doubt, Peter, I won’t let you sink.”
So, when I was four years old, I tried to fly like Peter Pan. I cried to my parents, and I thought I had failed. —At that very moment, my dad lifted me up in his arms, and he flew me around the house. Love lifted me, and I flew!
Happy thoughts and a true relationship with Jesus do not come from fairy dust, or from sweaty concentration, or from Bible study, or prayer. These things support that relationship, and they often introduce us to him, but they do not define it.
The true relationship comes from one source only: Jesus Christ. Trust him. Trust his love and forgiveness, and you will fly with your “little faith,” and I will see you in heaven. Amen.
Click to go to: homepage
– or – sermon
menu – or – sermon archive