When I
was a boy, I grew up in a branch (small congregation) in Upstate New York. One Sunday, a woman who had been in the
branch and moved away had come back to visit.
Somehow she found herself as the first of two or three speakers on the
Sacrament meeting program. The woman
proceeded to speak for two hours. Back
then, Sacrament meeting was the last meeting of the three hour block, and it
was the only thing between me and lunch.
I am still trying to forgive her.
I say
that because I am cognizant of the time, and the last thing I want to do is
take up more of your time than I have to.
But there are some things I really want to share.
I want to
talk for a few minutes about a story in the New Testament that has come to have great meaning to me.
Peter and
Jesus Walk on Water
In this
story, Jesus had just performed the miracle of feeding 5,000 men (not including
the women and children) with five loaves of bread, and two fish.
Matthew
14:22-33
22 And
straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go
before him unto the other side [to the city of Bethsaida, according to Mark
(6:45), while he sent the multitudes away].
23 And
when [Jesus] had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to
pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone.
24 But
the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was
contrary [Mark described the disciples as having spent the night “toiling in
rowing” (Mark 6:48)].
25 And in
the fourth watch of the night [meaning between 3 and 6 in the morning] Jesus
went unto them, walking on the sea.
26 And
when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It
is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.
27 But
straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not
afraid.
28 And
Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the
water.
29 And he
said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the
water, to go to Jesus.
30 But
when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he
cried, saying, Lord, save me.
31 And
immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him,
O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?
32 And
when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased.
33 Then
they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou art
the Son of God.
There are
a few parts of this story that I want to look at with you, because I think they
have application for us.
First,
brothers and sisters, it doesn’t seem lost on any of us just how miraculous a
situation this was: Jesus was actually walking on water. And not only Jesus, but Peter. Imperfect, impetuous Peter, was able to do so
as well, at his asking and at the Savior’s invitation.
We can
only speculate what prompted Peter to ask the Master if he could get out and
join Him in the water, but we know that the Jesus at least assented to the
suggestion by telling Peter, “Come.”
Peter then got out of his boat, in the middle of the Sea of Galilee, and
seemingly amid darkness in the middle of the night, for however long it was, he
actually walked on water toward the Savior.
We Get
Out of the Boat, Too
At first
blush, this doesn't necessarily sound like something we can relate to. I wonder,
though, what might be comparable in our lives?
In what ways has God invited us to leave (or at least assented to our
leaving) relative comfort to get out of our figurative boats and, seemingly
amid impossible circumstances, start to do what, for all intents and purposes,
should be impossible and walk toward Him?
For my
part, I can think of young missionaries, who maybe never having been away from
home, leave their family and friends behind for 18 months to 2 years to serve
in some distant place among strangers, often having to learn a new language.
I think
of young couples who decide to get married against all hope and probability
(and sometimes without parental support).
I think
of single members of the church who carry on hoping to get married, but have
not had the opportunity.
I think
of couples that decide to have children, as well as those who hold out in the
desperate hope to have them.
I think
of those who make the decision to join this church.
And I think of the gay members of the church
who are just trying to hang on and find their place here.
The
truth, though, is that I can’t name or count the ways that each of us might
have been prodded out of our comfort zone to do (or to keep doing) what seems
to be impossible. But I tend to think
that, in one way or another, all of us have been in a position not too
unlike Peter's. We, each of us, have
felt the promptings of the Holy Ghost to get out of our boats and move toward
the Master, amid hardly less turbulent circumstances. In fact, brothers and sisters, I don’t
suspect that any of us would be here this morning if that were
not true for us in some regard.
So with
that thought, I want to share a few personal observations:
(1) The
Wind Was Contrary and the Boat Tossed with Waves
First,
what is notable to me about Peter's story is that he didn't seem deterred by
the weather when he first made the decision to get out of the boat. The scripture notes that the "wind was
contrary" and the ship was "tossed with waves" (Matthew 14:24)
well before Peter got out of the boat and onto the water. But that hadn't mattered initially, or at
least it hadn't mattered enough to deter Peter from getting out of the boat to
walk toward Jesus (and remember, Peter was the one who suggested it in the
first place!).
No, it
does not seem to have been until some point during his miraculous walk that
Peter actually took note of his surroundings and shifted his focus away from
the Master and toward the boisterous wind.
It was then that Peter began to sink.
Brothers
and sisters, one of the lessons in this story for me is that it is not the
presence or absence of storms in our lives that determines whether we sink or
move toward Him. No --whether we sink or
move toward Him instead seems to depend entirely on where our focus is fixed:
on Him or on the storms.
Now, to
me this does not mean that we are to go about our days carrying on as if or
pretending that there are no storms in our lives, that we are sailing calm
seas, that the waves and wind aren't rocking the boat we just left behind,
whipping at our faces, or maybe even soaking the hems of our pants or
skirts. That would be false and so
desperately foolish. We all of us, in
one way or another, have been, are, or will soon be in the midst of storms and
turbulent weather. And few things in the long run are less helpful to those
truly looking for help and refuge from the storms of their own journey than for
us to pretend we are walking on calm seas.
But just
as we should not pretend that our seas are always calm, neither should we be
constantly fixated on the storms -- spending our energy complaining about them
or comparing the size of the swells on our seas to what others seem to have to
deal with.
The key,
remember, is that we not allow the storms that each of us face to divert our
focus from Him.
(2) When
We Avert Our Gaze, He Seems to Get Fuzzier.
But if
you are like me, or like Peter here, even when it seems like you are trying to
do everything right to move toward the Savior, sometimes our attention gets
diverted to focusing on our difficulties.
In fact, sometimes it feels like I can't help it. The interesting thing for me, is that often
when my focus gets turned that way, my difficulties become all I can see. And the longer they hold my attention, the
larger and larger they seem to me -- until I become afraid, and I start
sinking.
I wonder
if you have ever had a similar experience: In moments when you have felt the
Holy Ghost, you might feel inspired to do something -- maybe something
otherwise hard or courageous -- to move toward the Savior. However, difficult that thing might be, you
get out of the boat and begin moving toward Him. In those times when our focus is on Him, when
we can feel the protection and influence of the Holy Ghost, all good things
feel possible.
But
somewhere along the way, our attention gets diverted (much of life seems
designed to try to divert our attention), and then we can't see Him as clearly
anymore. Suddenly, none of the good
feelings that prompted us out of the boat seem to be there to sustain us, and
all we can see is the difficulty of our situation. In those times, we may be
tempted to think or even say aloud: What was I thinking? Why did I get out of that boat? I was safe there. What am I doing here standing in the middle
of the sea, in the dark, against boisterous winds and crashing waves? Why did
He leave me?
But
here's the thing evident to me in this story, brothers and sisters: when Peter's attention shifted and he started
to sink in those moments doubt, Jesus may have felt far away to Peter,
but He wasn't. Jesus wasn't any farther
away than when Peter was looking directly toward Him and walking on the
water. In fact in my mind, I can even
see Jesus perhaps quickening His pace when he saw Peter begin to falter so as
to shorten the distance between them (to be able to catch him).
The same
is true for us.
Listen to
this quote from President Eyring in a recent conference:
"God
is close to us and aware of us and never hides from His faithful
children." [October 2012,"Where is the Pavilion?"]
Note that
President Eyring does not qualify that statement. He does not say that "God is sometimes
close to us" or that "God is close to us if we are good enough or
keep enough of His commandments."
He is simply close to us.
President
Eyring continued:
"God
is never hidden, yet sometimes we are, covered by a pavilion of motivations
that draw us away from God and make Him seem distant and inaccessible. Our own desires, rather than a feeling of
"Thy will be done," create a feeling of a pavilion blocking
God." [October 2012, "Where is the Pavilion?"]
Brothers
and sisters, truth is truth is truth. We
all know about the scientific method.
And the whole idea of reasoning in general is that truth is supposed to
be evident to everyone, regardless of background or position.
But I
have learned that where spiritual matters are concerned, what feels real to us
(and what we can see) depends very much on where we stand, where we are facing,
and on the condition of our hearts.
Think of
this scripture now in the context of Peter (or any of us) out on that water:
Helaman
5:12
"And
now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who
is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the
devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea,
when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no
power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo,
because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a
foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall." (emphasis added).
(3)
"Wherefore Didst Thou Doubt?"
Finally,
brothers and sisters, I have wondered what, exactly, Peter might have been
afraid of in those moments of doubt when he turned his focus.
He did
not seem to be afraid that Jesus had forgotten him. And he did not seem to fear that Jesus did
not care about him.
Maybe
this is a bit of projection on my part, but when I read this story, I get the
sense that Peter had somehow come to think that this walking on water thing was
on him -- that his staying afloat (or perhaps better, the Savior's ability to
help him stay afloat) depended on Peter's own talents and abilities, or on his
own goodness and righteousness. And in
those moments of miracle and distraction, his circumstances quickly reminded
him of his own inadequacies. How could
he possibly be enough? He couldn't. And he knew it. Which perhaps is why he became frightened and
began to sink.
In my own
life, brothers and sisters, I have learned that focusing on my own weaknesses
and shortcomings (as worthy and as helpful as that might sound for those geared
toward self-improvement), is not much more helpful than focusing on the
surrounding storms. The fact is that
either focus dims our view of the Savior.
And either focus can create a pavilion that distances us from
understanding and feeling God's grace -- and this even as He remains
just as close to us.
Again, I
am not saying that we should pretend we do not have weaknesses or
shortcomings. In fact, whenever we move
toward the Savior and begin to do otherwise impossible things, we seem to be
promised that just about the first thing He will show us is our weakness. But listen again to the Lord describe the
context in which we are to view them (Ether 12:27):
And if
men come unto me [Remember what the Lord told Peter --
"Come."] I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men
weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men
that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and
have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.
(emphasis added)
Listen,
too, to the Book of Mormon prophet Jacob describe a similar understanding
(Jacob 4:6-7):
"Wherefore,
we search the prophets, and we have many revelations and the spirit of prophecy;
and having all these witnesses we obtain a hope, and our faith becometh
unshaken, insomuch that we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very
trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea.
"Nevertheless,
the Lord God showeth us our weakness that we may know that it is by his grace,
and his great condescensions unto the children of men, that we have power to do
these things."
Our
weaknesses, then, are not an indication that we should be sinking, or that we
should not be out there on the water.
No. He shows them to us to remind
us of His grace -- that it is by His power (not ours) that we are sustained and
doing impossible things. That it is by His
power that we can withstand the mighty storms of life. He shows them to us, brothers and sisters, to
point our thoughts ever more toward Him.
Be Not
Afraid
Brothers
and sisters, I believe in a God that loves us perfectly.
I believe
in a God who wants us to become like Him, which for better or worse means that
we must learn to navigate storms. And
sometimes it seems to mean even getting out of the boat during those storms to
move toward Him and do impossible things -- at least things that would not be
possible if we were left to ourselves.
I don't
know what storms you face in your life, but I believe in a God that does not
want us to be afraid, and in whose care we need not fear anything.
But I
also believe in a God that knows that sometimes you and I will still be afraid,
that sometimes we can't seem to help fixating our attention on the boisterous
winds.
And I
believe in a God that, when we are afraid, knows perfectly how to succor us,
who watches with us on those nights when we can only see and feel the
boisterous wind and waves.
I believe
in a God who watches with us even as those nights of seeming loneliness may
stretch to years. And I believe in a God
who ironically may never be closer to us than during those times when we are
tempted to accuse Him of abandoning us.
I also believe
in a God that will never let us sink too far beyond His reach. And I believe in a God whose very existence is
dedicated to seeing each of us return to Him with our families.
I know He lives. And I love Him. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
