The below is the text of the first sermon I gave this past weekend after being inducted and installed as the Vicar of Marsden and Slaithwaite with East Scammonden. It was shared as part of an all-benefice service at Upper Slaithwaite Church, known locally and lovingly as ‘Shred.’
Reading
Matthew 14.22–33 – Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshipped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’
Sermon
I had a wry smile to myself when I saw the Gospel reading for this morning’s service. Because there can hardly be a more fitting Gospel reading for a first Sunday with a new vicar than this one. Before you jump to conclusions, I’m not suggesting that becoming your new vicar is exactly like stepping onto a stormy sea. At least, I hope it isn’t! But there is something here that speaks powerfully to the beginning we are making together.
The story begins with Jesus sending the disciples out ahead of him. They are doing what he has asked, and yet they find themselves struggling. The boat is far from land, the wind is against them, and the journey has become exhausting.
I think that detail is worth sitting with for a moment, noticing the implication that following Jesus does not guarantee calm waters. But difficulty is not necessarily a sign that we have taken a wrong turn or that God has abandoned us. Sometimes we can be exactly where we have been called to be and still find the wind blowing against us.
Our lives, and indeed church life can be like that. We make plans, offer our gifts, say our prayers and try to be faithful, but things do not always unfold as we hoped. Congregations change. Familiar faces disappear and new ones appear. Money becomes tight. Buildings demand attention. New ideas do not always work. The world around us changes, and we are left wondering how the Church should respond.
And a new beginning brings its own questions. What will this new chapter be like? What might change? What will stay the same? Will we understand one another? Will the new vicar remember everybody’s name? Spoiler alert, I won’t. At least not immediately anyway. Hopefully there’s excitement about what lies ahead, but there may also be uncertainty. That is true for me as well as for you. New beginnings are rarely made up of confidence alone. Usually hope and nervousness arrive together.
But as we heard in our Gospel reading, into the middle of the disciples’ struggle, Jesus comes.
At first they do not recognise him. They see only a figure on the water, and they are terrified. The presence of Jesus is mistaken for some kind of threat. Perhaps that happens more often than we realise. God comes to us in unfamiliar circumstances, through unexpected people or in changes we would never have chosen for ourselves, and our first response is fear. We are so accustomed to looking for danger that we struggle to recognise God’s grace.
And so Jesus recognises this and speaks: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” He does not begin by explaining the storm. He does not tell the disciples why the wind is against them or how long it will last. He gives them something better: himself. “It is I.” I am here. You are not alone. The storm may be real, but so is my presence.
That is the promise at the heart of this new beginning. The future of these churches does not rest upon a new vicar arriving with all the answers. Which is fortunate, because I haven’t brought them. Nor does it rest upon any one person, however gifted or committed.
Our hope rests in Jesus Christ.
He has been present here long before I arrived. He has been at work through generations of prayer, worship, service and quiet faithfulness. He has been present in baptisms and weddings, at bedsides and funerals, in school assemblies, community gatherings and ordinary conversations. He has been present in moments of joy and in times when the wind seemed firmly against you.
And he is present now.
Peter hears the voice of Jesus and does something wonderfully brave and slightly reckless. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus says, “Come.” So Peter steps out of the boat.
We often speak about stepping out in faith as though it means feeling completely confident. But Peter is not free from fear. He simply trusts the voice of Jesus enough to take the next step. Faith is not the absence of doubt or anxiety. Faith is deciding where to place our trust while those things are still present.
That matters as we begin our ministry together. I hope we will be willing to step out in faith. I hope we will ask what God may be calling us to do in Marsden, Slaithwaite and here at Shred. I hope we will be ready to try things, to welcome new people, to serve our communities and to share the love of Christ with generosity and confidence.
Some of what we try will flourish. Some of it may not. Occasionally we may discover, halfway through, that we have stepped out of the boat and have no clear idea what we are doing. But that is not necessarily failure. A church that never risks anything may remain safely inside the boat, but it will never discover what may become possible when Jesus says, “Come.”
Peter does walk on the water. Matthew is quite clear about that. For a few extraordinary moments, he does what should be impossible. Then he notices the wind. Of course he notices it. The wind is loud, the waves are high, and the boat is no longer beneath his feet. Fear takes hold and he begins to sink. “Lord, save me!” It is one of the shortest and most honest prayers in Scripture. There is no polished language and no attempt to appear composed. Peter simply cries out from his need.
And immediately Jesus reaches out his hand. Immediately. Jesus does not wait for Peter to recover his confidence. He does not demand a better explanation or a more impressive statement of faith. He catches him.
There will be times in the years ahead when our faith feels strong and the path seems clear. There will also be times when we notice the wind, lose confidence and wonder whether we have made a terrible mistake. As Bishop Smitha alluded to on Thursday night, there may be days when our prayer is little more than, “Lord, save us.”
The good news is that Christ does not abandon us in those moments. When faith falters, his faithfulness does not. When our grip weakens, his does not. Grace is not a reward for keeping ourselves above water. Grace is the hand that catches us when we cannot.
Jesus asks Peter, “Why did you doubt?” I do not hear that as a cruel rebuke. Jesus is holding Peter as he says it. It is less an accusation and more an invitation: Peter, you trusted me enough to step out. Could you also trust that I would not let you go?
That is a question for all of us.
Can we trust Christ enough to take the next step? Can we trust him when the future is exciting, and when it is uncertain? Can we trust him when our plans succeed, and when they need to be changed? Can we trust that even when we falter, he will still take hold of us?
When Jesus and Peter climb into the boat, the wind ceases. The disciples worship him and say, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
That is where this particular story ends: not with Peter’s bravery, nor with his failure, but with Jesus being recognised and worshipped. And that must be the purpose of our life together.
This new chapter is not about what I will do, what you will do, or even about what we will achieve together. It is about learning to recognise Jesus in our midst. It is about worshipping him, following him and helping others to discover that his love is very real.
I come among you with hope and excitement. I also come knowing that I have much to learn: about these churches, these communities, and each and every one of you. We will need patience with one another. We will sometimes see things differently. There will be moments of courage and moments of doubt.
But we do not make this journey alone.
Christ comes to us across the water. He speaks through the noise of the wind: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
He calls us out of the places where we have grown comfortable. He invites us to trust him. And when we begin to sink—as, from time to time, we surely will—he reaches out his hand.
So, as we begin this new chapter together, let us listen for his voice. Let us be honest about our fears but not ruled by them. Let us be patient with our doubts but not imprisoned by them. Let us be ready, when Christ calls, to step out together in faith.
And whether the water is calm or the wind is against us, may we keep our eyes fixed upon Jesus, the one who calls us, catches us and will never let us go.
Amen.