Sermon on Matthew14:22-33

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Peter gets a bad rapin this story for getting freaked out and starting to sink, but no one who has never walked on water should be judging.

Peter’s the only one who got out of the boat! Granted, he’s the one who suggested it, as a test to make sure it was really Jesus. I don’t blame him, though, for being scared by an ominous figure approaching their wave-battered boat in the early hours of the morning. All it takes is a dark hallway to fill my mind with all kinds of scary things.

So, yes, Peter sank, but he had faith that Jesus could give him the ability to walk on water in the first place and then the trust to call out for Jesus to save him.

Peter made a faith-filled suggestion and then accepted Jesus’ invitation to join him out on the water.

And when that became too much and his fears overcame him, Jesus was there to rescue him.

Those who witnessed the exchange, though they stayed in the boat, worshipped Jesus, confessing him as the Son of God.

That’s truly what this story is about. Yes, it’s a vignette about Peter biting off more than he could chew, but ultimately, it’s about showing that Jesus has the kind of relationship with the natural world that only the One who created it could have.

And at the same time, there’s something personal about this. Yes, Jesus has awesome power. And also, Jesus responded when Peter cried out in his panic, “save me!”

At the end of this story, Jesus’ disciples believed more fervently that Jesus was the Son of God. And also, they had experienced something that surpassed head knowledge. I wonder if they ever woke in the early hours of the morning and remembered Jesus’ words calling to them through the rough wind, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Though it’s clunky in English, “it is I” is better translated as “I am,” God’s name given to Moses from the burning bush.For both Moses and Jesus’ disciples, they were experiencing both an illustration of God’s miraculous nature and a personal encounter with God that would change their lives forever.

One of my favorite poems uses the story of Peter walking on water to describe multiple ways of learning that can connect us with God. It’s called “Poetics of Faith” by Denise Levertov:

‘Straight to the point’
           can ricochet,
                      unconvincing.
Circumlocution, analogy,
           parable’s ambiguities, provide
                      context, stepping-stones.
 
Most of the time. And then
 
the lightning power
           amidst these indirections,
                      of plain
unheralded miracle!
           For example,
                      as if forgetting
to prepare them, He simply
           walks on water
                      towards them, casually –
and impetuous Peter, empowered,
           jumps from the boat and rushes
                      On wave-tip to meet Him –
a few steps, anyway –
           (till it occurs to him,
                      ‘I can’t, this is preposterous’
and Jesus has to grab him,
           tumble his weight
                      back over the gunwale).
Sustaining those light and swift
           steps was more than Peter
                      could manage. Still,
years later,
           his toes and insteps, just before sleep,
                      would remember their passage.

I love the way she concludes that Peter’s body remembered the miraculous amid what’s often pointed to as a failure. “Sustaining those light and swift steps was more than Peter could manage,” but even the momentary experience of walking on water would stay with him forever.

Maybe what we consider failure deserves further consideration.

We all have seeming failures in our lives—embarrassments, times we’ve been passed over, mistakes (even grave ones), decisions that led to outcomes we didn’t want.

In my early twenties, I moved to Denver to be near my college boyfriend. I quit my job and movedseveral states away to live in a friend’s furnished basement. I moved in January, which was not the best call for someone who had never lived in snow before.

I found a temp job and a church community and did everything I could think of to try to build a life there.

But I quickly became horribly homesick.I cried daily and felt my energy draining away. I tried to exercise and eat well and make friends and get involved in the community and continue my hobbies—everything I could to adjust to what was arguably a very comfortable and privileged life.

But as spring arrived and the weather warmed and the flowers bloomed, I was still miserable.

So, in April, only a few months after arriving, I broke up with my boyfriend and moved back to California. I moved back in with my folks, got my old job back, and licked my wounds.

I felt like a failure—a spoiled young adult who couldn’t cut it in a life others would kill for.

“Sustaining those light and swift was more than [I] could manage.”

Still, as much as I wouldn’t want to relive those months, I’m grateful for what they taught me.

I learned a lot about growing up and living on my own.

I learned that most other places don’t say “the” before freeway numbers. And that you have to shovel your car out while it’s still snowing or you’ll get a ring of ice around your car. Learned that one the hard way…

I found out how much I love where I grew up, which paved the way for me to serve this community.

I learned that there’s room in my heart for more than one congregation. I fell deeply in love with the congregation I worshiped with there even as I missed my home congregation terribly.

I found out how very strong my safety net is, which I try never to take for granted.Without it, what was a very mild setback could have been devastating. It built my awareness that so many don’t have that kind of support and connection.

And I relearned to lean on God. This wasn’t the sort of situation where I hit rock bottom, pleaded with God, and then everything got better. I was praying fervently throughout, and things didn’t seem to improve. I wondered if I was doing something wrong.

It felt like a long time that the waves battered and the wind buffeted, and it felt like a long time that I was crying out, “save me!”

But even though things didn’t miraculously or instantaneously get better, God was with me the whole time. Even though I was still sad and scared and lonely, God was in the church community that embraced me. God was in my generous friends who housed me. God was in my safety net that made it so I could return home. God was in the small things that kept me going day by day and helped me return to myself over the course of time.

Now, again, in the grand scheme of things, this was a pretty mild “failure,” and you might not even call it a storm, but it felt like it at the time. The wind and waves knocked me off balance, I sank, and Jesus “tumbled [my] weight back over the gunwale.” Then, I sat sopping wet and embarrassed in the boat for a while.

But “still, years later,” I can look back and see how Jesus was there with me through the whole thing, inviting me to try something new, be willing to take risks, and trust that he would be there to respond when I cried out for help, even if it wasn’t as quickly as I would have preferred.

Whatever storms you’re facing, whatever winds are stinging your eyes, remember Who made the water in the first place and remember that God’s on your side. Be willing to get out of the boat. Even if you sink, Jesus is there with you.

Even when it feels like the wind is against you, Jesus is calling out: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Sermon on Matthew13:24-30, 36-43

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

This is an unsettling parable, with its “furnace of fire” and “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” It’s easy tosee only fire and brimstone in it.

To see “us, the wheat” vs. “them, the weeds.”

Or to worry: what if I’m a weed? Maybe I’m not good enough for the kingdom of heaven.

It’s easy to come to some troubling conclusions looking at this parable. Jesus’ explanation is a bit graphic, but let’s remember that it’s had two thousand years of people using that imagery to make people afraid and obedient. There can be other ways to read it and other things to get out of it.

This parable isn’t about making people fear Hell or to let “righteous” people feel satisfaction at “those evildoers” who are going to get punished.

Jesus was saying pretty much the opposite: stop worrying so much about sorting out “us versus them,” and instead trust God to sort it out in God’s time.We have a God full of grace—we can’t earn God’s love, and God loves us as we are, regardless of the ways we fall short.

So instead of fixating on the scary parts of this parable, let’s try to find what’s life-giving. I see three important things we can take from this parable.

The first is: don’t judge others.

“Let both of them grow together until the harvest,” says the landowner. Only at harvest time will everything be sorted out. We should focus on what’s happening now, not distressing ourselves over the future or judging and categorizing each other.

We shouldn’t presume to uproot the weeds—that’s the reapers’ job. And that job will only happen at the harvest—in God’s appointed time.

But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t hold each other and ourselves accountable for our actions. When people abuse each other or wreak violence on each other, they—we—need to be held accountable, especially when the wrongdoer has more power (either explicit or implicit power) over the person or people they’ve harmed.

But ultimately, God’s the one who will sort things out in God’s time. And if we try to sort things out ourselves in our time, there’ll be no one left. Because there are weeds and wheat in each of our lives, in each of our hearts. That’s human nature. As Martin Luther put it, we’re simultaneously saints and sinners. We can’t separate the weeds from the wheat. And thankfully, we don’t have to.

I’ve been thinking about this truth about human nature a lot lately. Between my trip to the DC area last month and Independence Day, I’ve been having the musical Hamilton stuck in my head. It illustrates the complicated nature of human beings really well.

It’s inspired by the life of founding father Alexander Hamilton, and it’s narrated in large part by Aaron Burr, who killed Hamilton in a duel.

It could very easily paint Hamilton as the untainted hero of the story and cast Burr as the villain, but it doesn’t. It gives Hamilton credit for starting with nothing and through hard work and talent accomplishing great things and shaping this nation’s finances and government.

It also shows Hamilton’s thirst for influence and power. It shows him having an affair with a married woman while his own wife was away on vacation without him. He was so driven by his work that he sacrificed his health and family for it. It shows him preparing his son for a duel that would kill him.

And it shows Burr as just as ambitious, but also cautious and calculating. He also has an affair with a married woman, but it also shows Burr as a devoted spouse and parent. Often, Burr comes across as wiser than Hamilton—not subject to Hamilton’s fiery temper and rashness. But ultimately, Burr succumbs to jealousy and wounded pride. He challenges Hamilton to a duel and kills him. Afterwards, Burr laments that “the world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me.”

A show that could easily label Hamilton wheat and Burr a weed portrays them both as more complicated than that. They’re brilliant, talented, and dedicated people who also have flaws and hurt others. They’re both weeds and wheat. They’re human. Just like us.

Our parable today reminds us that we each have weeds and wheat within us. So, don’t judge others. Let them be complicated human beings, just like you.

A second lesson we can take from this parable is that the kingdom of heaven is growing.

It’s easy to focus on the end of the parable and forget what’s happening between the planting and the harvesting. But if we take a closer look at some of the context of this chapter, a theme of growth becomes more obvious.

This reading is made up of two chunks, and we skipped reading the two parables that come in between those chunks, because it’s scheduled for next week’s reading. So, we get the parable of the wheat and the weeds and then we get the disciples asking Jesus for an explanation.

The two parables that come in between are:

1.    The parable of the mustard seed, which compares the kingdom of heaven to a tiny mustard seed that grows up to be big enough that birds seek shelter in it.

2.    And the parable of the yeast, which compares the kingdom of heaven to yeast that makes dough rise. On my rare attempts at breadmaking, I’m always amazed to see how the dough doubles or triples in size as the yeast does its work.

Both of these parables have to do with growth, specifically the growth of the kingdom of heaven.

Today’s reading bookends these two parables about growth. And the parable of the wheat and the weeds, indeed, has to do with growth: the wheat still grows, despite the weeds. The harvest still arrives. The weeds don’t choke the wheat. There’s growth until the appointed time.

Jesus is giving the disciples and the crowds hope that God’s good news will spread, will grow. Beloved Community will continue to grow, despite the evil in the world and in our hearts.

Similarly, Hamilton and Burr’s legacieslive on despite their flaws and failings. Both Hamilton and Burr struggle to be remembered for their contributions. Both fall short of their ambitions: neither becomes president, Hamilton’s life is cut short, Burr is remembered for being the one who ended it. Still, each had a role in the development of this nation, and the good growth continued despite their shortcomings.

Legacy is one of the major themes in the show, and a recurring line is: “You have no control / who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” George Washington gives this advice to Hamilton as he sees Hamilton’s thirst to leave a mark on the world. Hamilton could do his best, but as he steps into the public eye, there are things outside his control that could affect his legacy.

That leads me to the third thing this parable tells us: we do know who tells our story.

God tells our story. And not only that, but God is in control of the story. And we know how the story ends—it’s going to be a happy ending.

Right now, we have both weeds and wheat within us. There’s evil in the world—it can be overwhelming. There’s evil in our own hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to find hope in the middle of all the weeds in this world.

But this parable promises that what’s evil and wrong in this world will no longer be. What’s right about the world and what’s right within us will shine like the sun. The Reign of God will be complete in God’s time.

Until then, we don’t need to divide ourselves into weeds and wheat—God will sort things out at the right time. For now, the world is wide enough for both weeds and wheat.

The Reign of God will continue to grow, and we get to be a part of it.

It’ll continue to grow until harvest time, when it’ll be complete.

And always, we rely on God’s grace. We’re saved by Christ’s death and resurrection, not by anything we do to make ourselves more like wheat and less like a weed. God’s got this—nothing can separate us from God.

If you ever feel like a weed or if the weeds of this world get you down, remember who tells your story. And know that the ending will shine like the sun.

Sermon on Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Focus:Just as the sower sowed seeds all over the place, we can trust that good news can be found all around us and join in tending the soil.

Function:This sermon will encourage hearers to look for good news wherever they go.

By the time of our Gospel reading, it seems that Jesus was getting popular. So many people came to hear him speak that he got into a boat so he could address everyone on the beach.

It might seem like Jesus had arrived—if it were happening today, he would probably have paparazzi following him around.

But just as it tends to happen today, when someone gets a big enough audience, they also get a lot of pushback.

As we talked about last week, people who had been complaining that John the Baptist was a party pooper were now giving Jesus the side-eye for being a party animal.

Then, some religious leaders were upset because Jesus’ disciples picked themselves a snack on the Sabbath and then Jesus healed a man also on the Sabbath. And they weren’t just complaining about that behavior—they started to plot his downfall. They started spreading the idea that Jesus was acting through the power of demons.

Right before our reading, Jesus was talking to some crowds, and his family members were waiting outside to speak with him. He then asked the messenger, “’Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’ And pointing to his disciples, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.’”

We don’t know what his family wanted to talk to him about. Maybe they wanted him to stop saying things that would get him in trouble or reflect badly on them. Maybe they wanted special treatment. Maybe they just wanted to say hi. But it can’t have been easy for them to hear what Jesus said. Jesus wasn’t just making enemies of some religious leaders—he was saying things that were hard to hear even for his own loved ones.

Right after that, our reading begins with Jesus leaving the house and sitting by the sea, and then getting into a boat to address the huge crowds in parables.

Jesus was popular but also getting negative attention.

This parable of the sower was the first in a series of parables, which we’ll be looking at for the rest of July. The rest of them are explicitly about the “kingdom of heaven,” and this one is about how that message is received.

It’s like Jesus was explaining to everyone why he was receiving pushback:

·       Some people just wouldn’t understand,

·       some would give up at the first sign of trouble,

·       some would get distracted by the practicalities of daily life,

·       but some would embrace the kingdom of heaven

For the crowds, it was enough to know to expect these reactions—why they were so moved by Jesus’ teachings and others were hostile.

But then, Jesus went deeper with his closest disciples.They came to him asking about parables, and Jesus explained to them the parable of the sower.

Where the crowds could rest in the knowledge that Jesus’ message would be received differently, Jesus was inviting his disciples into a deeper message.

Yes, people would have different reactions, and also, Jesus’ disciples would bear fruit. This parable isn’t about sorting out the “chosen few” versus those who didn’t make the cut. It’s realistic that not everyone is going to be receptive, but those who aregrow into the ecosystem of the kingdom of heaven.

They embody the vision in Isaiah of “shalom,” God’s peace that goes far beyond lack of war.Humanity and creation will be in harmony—everything will dance with joy, what is prickly will become lush, and everything will be fruitful and nourishing.

Jesus gave the disciples the understanding they asked for so that they could not only recognize the different reactions to Jesus’ words but help create richer soil.

By living out the kingdom of heaven here on earth, they would participate in showing glimpses of what its fulfillment will look like. By following Jesus’ example and feeding the hungry, having compassion on the suffering, and creating a community of love, they would make earth a little more as it is in heaven. They would cocreate with God richer soil for the seeds to land on.

Without that invitation to discipleship, it’s easy to look at this parable and try to type ourselves.

Maybe weread it and pat ourselves on the back for showing up at church on Sundays.Maybe we even find ourselves judging “Christmas and Easter Christians” as one of the other soils.

We can find ourselves longing for the packed Sunday school rooms of the past and feeling some distress about the young families in our lives who don’t belong to a church.

It’s understandable to feel that grief and concern for people and congregations we love.

Or maybe we read the parable and judge ourselves harshly, wondering if we have truly weathered difficult circumstances or would wither if greater hardship came our way. Or we think of how much time we spend worrying about money and wonder if our faith is being choked by “the cares of this age and the lure of wealth.”

Now I love a good personality test, but the parable of the sowerisn’t about telling us where we were sown or what kind of soil we are.

If anything, I think we have the potential for any or all of these reactions to Jesus’ message throughout our lives.

Who among us hasn’t been perplexed by something in Scripture and felt like we’re just not getting it, as if we almost figured out something profound only to have it snatched away?

Who among us hasn’t heard an inspiring speaker or been caught up in the emotion of a beautiful hymn or worship song and felt like we would be different from now on, only to wake up the next morning and go about our business as usual?

Who among us hasn’t ever gotten caught up in the cares of this world or worried about money?

And finally, who among us hasn’t ever noticed God at work—whether something truly miraculous or simply being moved by a sunset or a tender act of friendship.

We have the potential for all of it on any given week.The point isn’t to categorize ourselves or others.

Since Jesus called it “the parable of the sower” in his explanation to his disciples, let’s remember that the sower sowed seed all over the place. He didn’t reserve the seeds only for the good soil. He threw handfuls everywhere.

We have a God of abundance and a Savior who wanted his message spread far and wide. The Good News is everywhere: that God loves this world God created, that God created each and every human being (including you!) in God’s image, that God is on the side of the suffering, powerless, and marginalized, that God loved us enough to become human and experience the fullness of the human experience, and that God will reconcile all things, bringing God’s shalom to the world.

When the conditions are right, these truths will root and grow. God’s word will not return empty but will water and nourish the earth.

We followers of Jesus get to notice that happening, and maybe God will use us to increase the good soil around us. Thanks be to God, we don’t have to be perfect—just do our best with the Holy Spirit’s help to be kind and generous and loving and honest, including about where we need God’s grace.

It may not make us popular, and it will likely bring about some pushback, but just as Jesus was dedicated to spreading his message of God’s shalom far and wide, we can help bring glimpses of that peace.

God’s peace be with you, wherever you go.