What I should have said

Here is what I should have said to Jane. 

It’s okay.

I’m here.

Don’t be afraid.  

I did not say anything of those things to Jane.  

We were lost in the woods.  Babies strapped to our chests, toddlers, whining that the hike was too long, the snacks had long been consumed.  We realized that we had lost the trail and we weren’t quite sure whether to go  forward through the dense and pricker filled brush or to try to somehow find our way back to the trail we had lost.  We didn’t know how long we had been off the trail.   We tried to push forward, only to find that we were entering a swamp.  The kids started crying and screaming, their clothing was getting caught in the brush, their little feet stuck in the mud and then one child lost a shoe.  The swamp led us an area that was impassible and deep and so we had to pick the children up and pass them over the muddy ravine one at a time to the adult who had crossed ahead.  One of the children fell and landed face down in the mud. 

And Jane started to panic.  

She was quickly and fiercely consumed by a tornado of fear.  She started yelling and crying, sharing her helplessness in loud outbursts.  Her fear quickly escalated to wildly dramatic statements that we were going to be trapped in the woods, that we would starve because our food was already gone,  that we were going to need to sleep out in the swamp and we didn’t have tents,  and that the bugs were horrible and that we would need to be located by search crews,  if they could even find us.  

Panic.  We’ve all been there.  

Let us pray.

When red and blue flashing lights pull up behind you.

When the voice on the other end says, I’m sorry there has been an accident.

When the doctor shares test results that confirm your fears

When your credit card is stolen.

When the pregnancy test doesn’t read what you prayed for.  

When you can’t find your child in a store. 

When your husband doesn’t come home.  

When you failed the exam you needed to pass.   

Just naming these possibilities causes my heart rate to increase, my palms to get sweaty, my mind to start racing.  I’ve been in many of these places, I’ve stood in many of these moments.  I can feel the intensity of panic in my heart, even as I stand here in a safe place, with safe people, literally and physically and spiritually in the presence of God. Our reality is that we are all too often living through moments that induce panic.

I don’t need to give you examples of your own personal storms.  Your own moments when your heart races and your mind quickly darts to the worst possible scenario.  

I don’t know about you, but I recoil when someone says to me, You have no reason to be afraid.   When someone says, don’t worry about it, it’s not that big of a deal.    

When someone downplays the intensity and confusion of the difficulties of life and drops a Christian one liner as helpful as a mickey mouse bandaid on a flesh wound. 

Christians are notorious for adages like: 

It is God’s will.

God has a plan. 

or even more simply,

It’s not that bad.  

I should have said to Jane:  

It’s okay.

I’m here.

Don’t be afraid.  

I did not say anything of those things to Jane.  

 When I hear the words of Matthew, that the disciples were in that boat, being tossed and , turned, battered,  it says they were battered by the waves, the text tells us,  they were far from the shore, far from being able to plant their feet on solid ground…   I can feel the tumult of our collective internal struggles, our own moments of being battered and tossed and far, too far from any safe place.  It is as if we are on the boat with those disciples, surrounded by uncertainty, consumed by fear, full of panic.  

But though the wind and the waves and the storm resonate all too well with the modern lives we live, we must remember —  it is not the storm that is in control.  

I can picture the boat.  The wooden boat the disciples were on. 

I can imagine them huddled down in the boat, trying to keep steady, trying to find their way.   And they  look around and all they see are storms. 

It is no wonder that the disciples were terrified when they saw someone walking toward them on the water.  They assumed it was a ghost.  They saw only more reason for terror.  The fear and the frenzy and the circumstances that they had no control over had swelled up around them on every side. 

But Jesus came to them.  In the middle of the storm. 

His eyes were always on the disciples.  Even when he was far off on the mountain praying,  he was watching them, like a parent watching a child wander off in the yard, keeping them in sight, yet allowing them to explore.

And when he saw they were panicking, he went to them.  

I keep this little image in my mind of myself as a child sitting on the couch with my parents and I remember many times when something  came on the TV set that wasn’t kid appropriate and my dad would physically move my head so I wasn’t watching that scene.  

To me this is truth, a truth that I need every day,  because God frequently has to take my head and physically move it because my focus is  on the wrong thing.  

God moves the focus  of the disciples from the battering of the waves to where their gaze ought to be, on Jesus.

And when they see him, when they realize they’ve been looking in the wrong place, when their gaze is on him they cry out in fear, they give their fear to him.   And immediately, immediately he says to them, It’s okay,  I’m here.  Don’t be afraid.  

I should have said to Jane

It’s okay.

I’m here.

Don’t be afraid.  

We are living in a moment in history and culture where 75% of people in our nation suffer from severe anxiety and panic attacks.  Where fear is our  dominant narrative.  

3 out of 4 people sitting here today find themselves with that rising feeling of helplessness, find themselves with that feeling that at any moment the world could be spinning out of control, that at any moment the battering of the waves will capsize the boat.  

And Jesus has news for you and I in this moment in this day, in this current culture.  

There is no storm of uncertainty, no chaos, no dark waters of despair that will prevent Jesus from coming to you. That through whatever it is that you are going through, Jesus has his eye on you and he is in control of the storm.    Indeed, Jesus is strong to save and we, you and I, we are NEVER out of  his reach, never. 

So, when the storms come and you feel beaten up and tossed around, 

The first thing that you and I can do is:  

 Claim what is true.  Let God anchor be your anchor.  

I have to go for frequent MRI’s for a medical condition and if you’ve ever been in an MRI machine, clamps on your head, tight spaces, loud noises, oh my goodness, it is tough and scary business, not to mention waiting for the results, just the test.  

But each and every time they strap me into that table and I ask for my double heated blankets and my classical music, and I lay there and I claim what I know to be true:

Over and over again, I say

Be Still and Know that I am God

Be Still and Know that I am god

Be Still and Know that I am God.

And I am reminded again in those moments that Jesus is lord over the storm.   

For the disciples in this moment Jesus offered them the  truth: Do not be afraid I am with you. 

Perhaps you find truth in the words:  The  Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.  

When the waves are battering against you, maybe it’s as simple as saying —  You are God.  I am not.  Perhaps our previous series about Joshua — Be strong and courageous.. perhaps this is an  anchor for you in the storms.  

Pick a truth to be your anchor now so that when the storms hit, you are ready and you are able to know that Jesus has his eye on you and Jesus will come to you in the storm and when you feel like you just can’t survive, you will be taught to walk on water.  

Matthew’s version of this story is so amazing to me, because Peter is  so afraid, and he sees Jesus on the water and what does he do? he asks God to hold him accountable.  

He says to Jesus:

Command me to come to you on the water.  He invites Jesus to prove that he is God and to draw him into a new and scary place.  

Command me to come to you. 

And in the bibilical action movie that plays out in my mind, Peter puts his sandaled feet on the edge of the bow.  Standing and shaking in the storm, but listening for the command of the Lord.

And in the storm and in the fear and in the panic,  Jesus says:

Come.  

And Peter steps out on to the water and for a few brief steps he has full faith and trust in Jesus and he had his eye on Jesus and all of the troubles and the cares and the panic and the fear, and the battering of the waves,  all of those things were buried deep in the depth of the sea and with God’s help, he  had risen above his circumstances.  

These are the moments we cling to.  The moments when we feel God so tangibly, when we hear God so clearly, when the veil between heaven and earth is thin and we finally trust.  The moments where, instead of having two feet planted firmly on this earth, mired in our problems hyper focused on the cares of this day, we take one foot and reach it over into the truth of Jesus and we live a life that is balanced between the reality of our earth and the promises of our God.  

Here is what I should have said to Jane. 

It’s okay.

I’m here.

Don’t be afraid.  

I didn’t say any of those things to Jane.  I saw the experience in the woods as a wonderful adventure.  I was excited to see what new vistas we might come across, to see if there were any colorful frogs in the stream. To push through a tough time and find the rainbow in the storm, but the reason I should have said something different to Jane is that not because I was right or wrong or because she was right or wrong, but because Jesus has shown us that whether the waves are battering our soul or whether the thunder clouds have gripped our neighbors, that we do not judge, we do not condemn, we do not measure whether someone else’s storm is hard enough or a battle they should or shouldn’t fight.  We simply go to them in the storm.  

You see, from my perspective of only a few months in your midst, it seems that you have been in a rocky boat.. you are in unchartered water, for sure.    Staff leaving, staff coming, facilities changing, new voices, crayons in the pews,  missing mailboxes, and all sorts of changes.   It may feel that the boat is unsteady, there may be some panic, but, people of Grace, Jesus has never taken his eye off you.  He is reaching out his hand to you and calling to you step out of the boat and to do something you never imagined, to walk on water as Jesus whispers to you and to I and to  this church, take heart, do not be afraid, I am here.  

Offered in worship, October 2019

Grace Presbyterian Church