Sermon on Walking on Water: Faith in the Midst of Fear
I’m sure we have all experienced fear in our lives in different stages and different forms. Sometimes it’s sudden and alarming—a diagnosis, a phone call in the middle of the night, or a relationship that fractures without warning. Sometimes it’s the long, grinding kind of quiet dread that settles and stays with us.
Most of us have tried various ways of managing this fear: pushing it down, distracting ourselves, trying to control everything and everyone, or pretending that all is fine. Some of those strategies work for a while, but many of them eventually leave us more exhausted and isolated.
Contemporary psychology has paid close attention to this human struggle. One of its clearer findings is that trying to eliminate fear entirely usually fails; avoidance tends to make fear stronger. What helps more is learning different ways of coming into relationship with fear—recognizing it, steadying ourselves, and still taking a step toward what matters, even in its presence. Approaches such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, gradual exposure, and acceptance-based methods all point in a similar direction: fear does not have to disappear before we can move. The more constructive path is to acknowledge our fear and to act anyway, with proper support.
Three Words from Christ
That insight from psychology is not new, because we find it right in today’s Gospel. Last Sunday, Jesus took his own sorrow and turned it into compassion. This Sunday, the story moves us to a hillside and a stormy sea where Jesus takes the reality of fear and shows us what to do with it—how to move in spite of it.
The disciples are in the boat, the wind is against them, and the dark hours of the morning surround them when Jesus appears before them. Into this terror, this confusion, and this lack of assurance, Jesus speaks three things:
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“It is I; do not be afraid.”
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“Come.”
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“Have faith.”
Think of these three sayings of Jesus and how they apply to your life and mine: “It is I; do not be afraid. Come; live by faith.” It could almost be a mantra for us.
Let’s take it one phrase at a time. Jesus says, “It is I; do not be afraid.” The disciples are terrified—not simply by the storm or the unforgiving weather, as they were experienced fishermen used to such conditions. What terrifies them is seeing Jesus walking on the water in the midst of this storm. They wonder, “What is this? Is it a ghost?” They are afraid of the sheer uncertainty of what is happening right in front of them.
Jesus answers, “It is I; do not be afraid.” In the language of Scripture, when we hear “It is I,” we hear the weight of God’s own divine name. Jesus is not only telling them, “It is I, Jesus, your friend,” but assuring them, “It is I, your Lord, present with the power of God.” He enters not only into the comfortable and beautiful moments of our lives, but right into the midst of the great storms—when we are confused and unsure if we will make it. He is there as Lord, and that is why we do not need to be afraid.
Fear is often really a lack of faith in Jesus and the power of God in our lives. All kinds of things happen that we have no control over. But do we believe that God has ultimate control over our lives, our world, our politics, and all the things that seem out of control? Do we have the faith to truly accept that God is present with us?
Releasing the Grip
Next, when Peter says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water,” Jesus simply says, “Come.”
He doesn’t tell Peter to stay in the boat where it’s safe; he invites Peter to step toward him while the storm is still raging. Faith is not the absence of fear; it is the willingness to move toward Jesus even while the wind is blowing.
Anyone who has ridden a motorcycle on gravel or sandy roads knows this lesson well. When the wheels begin to slip, an inexperienced rider instinctively tightens their grip on the handlebars, trying to force the motorcycle back under control. But the tighter the grip, the more the motorcycle fights, making it much easier to fall. With experience, a rider learns the opposite: when the bike loses traction, you loosen your grip, stay balanced, and trust the machine to find its way. Control is regained not by clutching harder, but by releasing and trusting.
Fear works the exact same way. Our instinct when we experience fear is to try to regain control—control over our lives, our faith, our church, our politics, or our circumstances. We tighten our grip and think we can force it to work. But what we actually need to do is loosen our grip and regain our trust in the One who is leading us.
Peter shows us how to do both. He steps out in faith, but when his focus shifts and he begins to sink, he calls out to the Lord: “Lord, save me!” It is perhaps the shortest prayer in the Bible, and a good one for us to practice every day.
Reaching for the Hand of God
Finally, Jesus says, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Jesus is not saying they have no faith at all, but rather that their faith is small and needs to grow. A life without deep grounding in faith leads to these dips in our ability to walk toward Jesus, allowing us to focus instead on our fears, our imperfections, and circumstances changing in ways we don’t like.
Persevering in faith doesn’t mean never feeling the wind or the pressures of this world. It simply means that when we do feel them, we cry out to the One who is already reaching out to us. Doubt is not the end of the story; the extended hand of Jesus is the end of the story. But we must reach out and grasp it.
Once again, two ways of living stand before us. One way treats the storm as the final reality and spends all its energy trying to manage it, tightening its grip, and fighting the wind. The other way hears a voice in the middle of the storm saying: “It is I. Come. Do not doubt. Have faith.”
Jesus invites us to live in that second reality. Experiencing fear, doubt, or a loss of control is not a reason to lose faith, but an invitation to pray: “Thank God for the gift of faith. Thank God for the gift of Jesus.”
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.