A Sermon on Matthew 14:22-33

August 11, 2002

First Christian Church, Corpus Christi, Texas

Preached by Donald M. Tuttle

In John Irving’s novel The World According to Garp, the Garp family lives near a beach. Like all good parents, the Garps were concerned for the safety of their children, particularly as they would play in the surf. Whenever the children ventured into the water, the parents would yell, "Watch out for the undertow."

One day the youngest member of the family was walking on the rocks and around the pools of water. He seemed to be looking for something. And so his parents ask him what.

"I’m looking for the undertoad," he replied.

In those warnings yelled to him over the wind and waves, the little boy had heard not undertow--t-o-w--but "undertoad"--t-o-a-d. He thought that somewhere below the surface of the sea a slimy monster lurked, waiting to pull him under.

Of course, as families are likely to do, the Garp family never forgot that faux pas. From then on, every risky or demanding venture a member tried was accompanied by the warning: "Watch out for the undertoad."

What a great image. After all, how often has life being going along swimmingly, then all of a sudden something will seem to grab us, pull us down, and threaten to destroy us?

I would dare say that Margaret Russell knows that feeling. Tuesday morning she was volunteering in the church office. She was so excited. Her physical therapy was winding down and her doctor had cleared her to play tennis again--and there are few things in life Margaret loves more than tennis. But Thursday she went for a test and before the day was over she had surgery. Oh, she will be OK, but it had to seem as if the undertoad got her, that out of nowhere this monster reached up, grabbed her by the leg and pulled her down.

Steve Pearlman knows what its like to be grabbed by the undertoad. He had worked for the same company for years, and like many of his associates he invested heavily in the company’s deferred compensation plan. It was a no brainer--a great way to save for retirement and avoid paying as much in taxes. Everything was fine, until last November. Then the retiree decided to cash in $280,000 worth of deferred compensation to pay his wife’s medical bills. He went to the company and filed the necessary paper, but the check never came. Within days, Enron, the company for which he had worked, had filed for bankruptcy--and a large part of his nest egg was gone, probably forever.

Then there was Helen and Robert. They were pillars in their church. She sang in the choir. He was a deacon. Their children had been in the church from the cradle roll up their high school. Their daughter, Jenny, had delivered the message on youth Sunday and served as a counselor at church camp. But one Saturday morning Helen and Robert found their daughter in the bathroom vomiting. Food poisoning? A hang--over? No. It was morning sickness. Through tears Jenny told them she was pregnant. And suddenly a life that had seemed to float above the troubles the plagued others was pulled under--grabbed by the undertoad, so to speak.

It can happen to any of us. And it can happen in any number of ways--a broken relationship or a broken blood vessel, a car accident or an accident of birth, a downturn in the economy or a random act of violence. Suddenly, without warning, we can find ourselves pulled under, drowning in troubles that only minutes before seemed unimaginable, troubles that may not threaten our life but threaten our confidence in ourselves, our future, even our Lord.

What is our hope in such times? What is that we can hold on to in those moments when we are gasping for breath?

How about the fact that amid our troubles, Christ comes to us, offering salvation.

The meal was finished and Jesus told his disciples to get into the boat and head to the other side of the lake. He said he would stay behind, dismiss the crowd, catch up with them later.

Catching the evening breeze, they headed across the lake. But as often happens on the Sea of Galilee, a storm blew up. Suddenly the chaos--the water and darkness that God had overcome in creation--re-asserted itself. They began to shift the sails and pull at the oars. Some tossed buckets of water overboard; others, unaccustomed to the waves, tossed something else. The monster of the deep seemed ready to devour them.

But what happened? Jesus came to them. Oh, at first they couldn’t believe it. They didn’t even recognize him. They thought he was a ghost, another monster there to pull them down. But then he spoke: "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."

And do you notice what happened? The disciples who were bailing water and scrambling to keep the boat afloat suddenly seemed to stop. The story doesn’t say it. The storm raged on. The winds blew, the rains fell, the waves buffeted. But there seemed to be a pause, a moment when their attention turned from the storm that surrounded them to the one who saved them. There was, in the story, that moment in which salvation came.

That was Peter’s experience too. While the other disciples enjoyed their peace aboard a perfectly good boat, Peter proposed to join Jesus walking among the waves. It was a audacious idea. Only Peter would have even thought of it. But when Jesus said, "Come," Peter hopped from the boat and began walking toward his Lord. That was when reality set in. He noticed the strong winds. The wave began to lap at his knees. He felt the tug of the undertoad on his heel. And Peter, the Rock, began to sink like one. "Lord, save me?" he cried. And the Lord did. The one who bid Peter "come," came to Peter, took his hand and led him back to the boat.

Amid the storm, when the eyes of the disciples and the eyes of Peter were on the chaos, Jesus came to them. He came to be with them, to invite them to trust, to experience his salvation.

William Willimon has noted that the Gospel of Matthew begins with the birth of a child whose name shall be called "Immanuel," "God is with us." He also notes that this same Gospel ends with Jesus standing before his disciples promising, "I am with you always, to the end of the age."

That is what he offers us in the midst of our troubles. He comes to his disciples, granting us his presence, his peace, his salvation. Oh, sometimes we don’t recognize him at first. Sometimes we believe but then come to doubt. It doesn’t matter. He comes anyway. He comes to us to see us through. That is his promise. Amen.