Sermon from December 3, 2000
Have you seen lately any of the magic show extravaganzas on television that feature David Copperfield and other very clever illusionists? These people make the Stature of Liberty disappear before your eyes, and beautiful girls step into a cage which is covered for a split second and then uncovered to reveal, not the girl, but a Bengal Tiger. So far as I have been able to tell, they have not caused the blind to receive sight, the lame to walk, the dead to be raise, or those in bondage to go free.

They are, as disclaimers about psychics are required to point out, for entertainment purposes only, and they entertain people mightily. I sometimes wonder if that is how people think about the miracles Jesus did: a kind of superb first-century magic that dazzled people and kept the authorities off balance. They were nothing of the kind.

Neither were they fanciful stories that the early Church simply invented to embellish reality and make a point. People who say that do so because their view of the world is so small that they cannot imagine surprises. Miracles are God's surprises. They are part of the romance of God's relationship with His creation. People who say the laws of nature make the miracles of the Bible unbelievable are not intellectual; they are just boring and unimaginative and sometimes not very honest.

Now, God does not spring His surprises on us simply to dazzle or intimidate us. He is not the Grand Magician out to give His human creatures a few minutes' escape from their arduous schedules. The language is that of the Gospel of John, but the meaning is the same in all four Gospels. The miracles of Jesus Christ are signs. They point away from themselves and to something else as surely as the mileage marker on the interstate highway serves only to point you toward your destination.

Therefore, every time we read a miracle in the Gospels, we are to ask ourselves, what does this miracle point to? What does it tell us about Jesus Christ? about God? about the Church? Let's read the next episode with this in mind: Mark 6:45ff.

As a prelude to reading this story, I would like to make two observations. The first has to do with the symbolic use of this story. One of the oldest symbols of the Church is a boat at sea. As the Church remembered this event in later years, it came to see it as a picture of the Church's life. Think of the following images in this picture.

First, Jesus was absent from the disciples. In fact, it had been a long time since they pushed off from shore on their frustrating ride. Verse 47 says they left before evening. Verse 48 says Jesus came to them about the fourth watch of the night, about 3:00 a.m. (Vincent, Mark, 329). Whether we are waiting for the Second Coming or for God's help in getting us out of a pickle just now, it seems like a long time since Jesus put in an appearance.

That is our lot, isn't it? Though you have not seen him, you love him – at least as much as we can; maybe just now not much more than those disciples on the Sea of Galilee; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him (see 1 Peter 1:8), though there are times when, like those first disciples in a crisis, our faith doesn't amount to much. We miss the flesh and blood presence of Jesus. Living by faith is tough at times for creatures of sense like ourselves.

Second, the disciples were not having much sucess in making for Bethsaida. They were straining at the oars, the wind was against them, they had been at it a long time, they had to be tired. You wonder if they were irritated at each other. I don't know anyone committed to Christian ministry, who has not asked at one time or the other, "Is it worth it?" One of my colleagues in Portland told me the story of the old preacher who liked to go down to watch the trains go by, because it gave him joy to watch something move he did not have to push, and likely push without seeing much movement. In the meantime, like the disciples, you just keep rowing.

Third, the Lord returns to our circumstances: unannounced, unexpected, and in a manner that somehow cuts through the frustrating circumstances that we have labored under so long and with so little success, and we have peace.

Maybe, just maybe, Jesus walked on water to engrave unforgettably in the minds of His disciples a picture of the relationship they should expect from Him as long as the world would last. And that brings me to a second preliminary observation about this miracle. It was done with the disciples in mind. No one else was present to witness it or to benefit from it.

As a matter of fact, nearly every miracle, maybe every miracle, from Mark 4:35 until now has been done with the disciples in mind. Beginning with the storm at sea in Mark 4:35-41 a quiet change comes over Mark's narrative. The relationship between Jesus and His twelve disciples begins to emerge as a dominant feature. They are not only present in every episode that Jesus is present in, but also we begin to hear their voices. However, what we hear them say does not sound promising.

In the first four chapters, which are full of miracles, Mark uses the miracles to illustrate Jesus' authority. When Jesus said, "The kingdom of God is near," He said in effect, "Watch me and you will see what God's love and authority look like under ordinary human conditions." The miracles did that.

In the storm at sea they were terrified at the storm and wake Jesus from His nap to demand His help, and then they were even more terrified when He calmed the storm by a word and wave of His hand. In the thronging crowd, when Jesus unaccountably stops and asked who touched Him, it was the disciples in a burst of common sense who pointed to the bumping, shoving crowd and pointed out the foolishness of His request. In the presence of 5,000 people Jesus asked the disciples to provide them food. Their curt response was that they did not have enough money to buy that much food. In each case they sheepishly watch, as Jesus does what none of them expected. And after the stilling of the storm, Jesus' comeback to them was less than flattering: "Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

No faith!? These were men who had bucked official Judaism to follow Him. These were men in whom His message had taken root and begun to grow. These were the ones made privy to the meaning of His parables. If it seems bizarre for Jesus to question their faith, just remember what the disciples in their fear said next. They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"

What do you mean, "Who is this?" You bucked official Judaism to follow Him. His message had taken root and begun to grow in you. You are the ones made privy to the meaning of His parables. And now you say, "Who is this?" Don't you know? The image of the disciples that is emerging in Mark does not flatter them in the least.

In this context the miracles are designed primarily for the disciples, because in Mark 5-8 the question that drives the narrative is the one the disciples asked in the boat; "Who is this?" The miracles Jesus did offered signs that pointed to an answer to that question. They also point to the disciples' inability to answer that question with certainty for a long time. With this in mind it is time to return to the events of Mark 6:45-52.

Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. Jesus had just taken five loaves and two fish and multiplied them miraculously to feed a crowd of 5,000 with twelve baskets full of broken pieces left over. Then, for the second time in the Gospel of Mark the disciples go for an eventful ride on the Sea of Galilee. For the second time in the Gospel of Mark Jesus goes alone to pray.

Verse 46: After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray. The hills were alive with the sound of praying. The sea was alive with the sound of wind. Verses 47-48: When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake; and with that supernature peeps out from around a corner of mere nature.

The statement at the end of verse 48 is almost as mysterious as the miraculous. He was about to pass by them. It is one of those ordinary, unintelligible realities of life that make no sense whatsoever. Why go to the trouble of walking on water only to walk right past the only people who might conceivably have any concern about it?

The reaction of the disciples in verses 49-50 was ordinary and understandable enough. But when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified. This is just the latest in a series of events since the end of chapter four in which terror and fear have characterized people in their encounters with Jesus. For the life of me I cannot tell in any case that it made any difference in their wisdom or goodness.

The disciples have been terrified at least twice, and they seem as dull as ever about what was really going on around them. The citizens of the Gerasenes were afraid and promptly proceeded to banish from their towns the best thing that had happened to them in years. The woman who clutched Jesus' garment and found her body healed had to be told, "Don't be afraid, woman!" The news from Jairus' house about his daughter's death struck fear into his heart. King Herod Antipas was terrified and came up with some cock-and-bull superstition about John the Baptist's being raised from the dead.

Now, the disciples had seen Jesus walking on the water, had been terrified and had cried out. They appear as people of shaky faith and frayed nerves on more than one occasion. And now we come to verses 50-52.

Verses 50-51say, Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." Then he climebed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. How did they respond? The rest of verse 51 tells us: They were completely amazed. Verse 52 then explains their response, and in doing so puts in the knife and twists it. They were completely amazed for they had not understood about the loaves.

What had they missed about the feeding of the 5,000 that should have helped them not be amazed at Jesus' action on the lake that night? Clearly, Mark, looking back on the event, saw something about Jesus that the disciples at the time had missed. Even more amazing, why didn't Mark say, "They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about Jesus' power to raise the little girl in chapter five from death"? The Gospels never make Jesus' power to raise people from death as central to their understanding of Him as they do with His feeding of the 5,000. Why? And then verse 52 says this: their hearts were hardened.

We don't want to be called hard-hearted. What a portrait of the men whom Jesus would entrust with His Gospel: men of shaky faith, frayed nerves and hard hearts. Increasingly, Mark's focus is on the disciples, and in today's episode we have another less than flattering evaluation of their spirituality. You begin to wonder if Mark is not a studied effort to undermine the esteem in which people would hold the men who had been closest to Jesus Christ. But there is another way to read this, and I would like to tell you what it is.

A very old tradition says that the Gospel of Mark is based on the preaching of the Apostle Peter. If so, we might say that Mark contains stories that Peter told on himself. We might also say that Peter did not try to spin the stories to polish his public image. The foibles and failures of him and the other disciples were there for all to to see. We also need to remember that these unflattering stories circulated throughout many churches of the Roman Empire while Peter and other disciples were still alive.

These stories can create an environment in which people feel more freedom to come to church, even though they come with a keen sense of personal failure. Have you never come to church and felt like a hypocrite, because you thought that if people knew what you had done last week, they might think it was wrong for you to be here?

You who have ears to hear, listen when I say that what you did last week was certainly wrong, but being here is a crucial step toward putting right what you did wrong. The hypocrisy would consist in trying to impress other people with your piety. Just keep your piety in your pocket. Let what goes on here wash over you like a cleansing bath for the soul. Confess to God the behavior you're ashamed of. Ask Him for help in the week to come. This is the place to do that. Christ did not kick the hard-hearted disciples out of the boat because they did not get it. The congregation (and others) is trying to imitate the Lord and be patient and understanding and tender with people who walk in here with heavy stuff on their consciences.

Time was when the Protestant church gave out the unwritten message that "you should not come in here until you are good enough to get in." One unexpected blessing of the moral failures of evangelical leaders in the past fifteen years has been to cancel that message. They blew the whistle on our self-righteousness.

As a result, it is easier to go back to a Gospel like Mark and look with new eyes at the actual experiences of the men who became apostles. What we see are men who could often be dull, sometimes arrogant, and vulnerable to egregious personal failures that some would say should have disqualified them from apostolic ministry.

We also see men whose repeated failures made them aware of their spiritual poverty and taught them the humility to stay with Jesus, if He would have them; and He would have them. And He would have you. And we would have you.

Every one of us has a hunger for God. Otherwise, we would not be here. Every one of us has a bad conscience. This is a place where by the grace of God those contradictory forces can do battle. You need not deny your hunger for God, and you need not deny the dark side of your nature, and you need not drop out when you lose a battle. We are going to be a church where that battle can take place. We can do that, because Jesus is right here in the boat with us, just about equally unimpressed with our piety and with our impiety; and just as patient as ever with men and women who know their poverty and cling to Him as the inexhaustible source of their hope.