This is an adapted form of the sermon I preached Sunday, August 13, 2023. The gospel text was Matthew 14:22-33. Watch a video of the sermon here.

I love living in this area for lots of reasons. I love the woods around here: all the local parks and even my own backyard. I love being so close to the Poconos and the Lehigh Valley, and not too far from New York and Philadelphia. I love the schools my children attend. I love so man of the people I’ve met here. But there’s one thing I really, really don’t like about living here.

Power outages. I hate power outages. And they do happen around here. Sometimes for hours, and sometimes for days. And I learned that early. Some of you may recall that my family moved here in 2012 just days after Hurricane Sandy went through. Heather and I moved our things into a house with no electricity, no running water, no heat for five days. We spent every night that week at my parents’ house, which at that time was well over an hour away, and drove here each day to unpack and set things up as best we could until sunset, when we went back. It was a stressful start to living here.

And I think that’s when my trouble with power outages started. I think that’s when I started overreacting. Ever since then, whenever the power goes out, I become an emotional mess. I immediately get incredibly anxious. I’m just not able to think clearly. I’m not able to relax. It feels like there’s a metal band wrapped around my head, squeezing and constricting so I can’t access some parts of my brain.

Whenever the power goes out, I feel scared. I feel stuck. I always fear that this is the power outage we won’t come back from. I always fear that the power will never come back this time, even though it always does. This feeling is constant throughout the outage. No matter what I try to do, what I try to tell myself, it’s never enough.

Some might suggest, why don’t you get a generator? Oh, we did! We have a generator, however…whenever I’ve tried to start it, it doesn’t work. We’ve had it serviced at least three times, and whenever we get it back, it works fine. But when the power goes out next time, nothing. And let me tell you, the one thing worse than having no generator is having that generator. Knowing it’s there, and not being able to trust it just makes the anxiety worse.

So, last Monday, yet another destructive thunderstorm came through our area, but we were spared here. The power flickered a few times, but it never went out, and I was so grateful. So very grateful. I thanked God for this mercy. But then Tuesday evening. It was a beautiful evening, clear and mild. Perfect night to sit outside. Around 8:00, I heard a loud bang, and then saw that a pickup truck had veered off the road just across the street from the church’s upper parking lot. It was sitting in the woods, and a utility pole was lying in the street in two pieces. And guess what that meant? The power was out.

Now I am confident that if it weren’t for Monday night’s storm, the electric utility would have taken care of it quickly. But the lineworkers were already so busy restoring power to so many others who were affected by the storm. So while the fire company and the police responded quickly, by the time I went to bed, there was still no power.

I woke up Wednesday morning, and when I saw that we still had no power, I felt that familiar constricting in my head. I felt my chest tighten. I decided it was time to try the generator. It wouldn’t start. Again. The battery was dead, again. Just like last time. Just like every time. It let me down again. And here I was, even more miserable than before. 

I tried to calm down. I thought about the day ahead of me. Most of the things I had scheduled were not at the church, so I could still get everything done with the power out. That was good. But there was one other thing I needed to do that day, which was work on this sermon. I knew I had to get some work done on it that day. And I didn’t think it would be possible. I need to be in a particular frame of mind to work on a sermon. And I simply couldn’t do it.

I was terrified. So I decided to spend the day journaling about how I was feeling.

A lot of what I’ve already told you in this sermon comes from that journaling. I journaled about that constricting feeling. I journaled about how I cared about nothing on these days but getting the power back.

And I journaled about what this says about my faith in God. I had so much trouble trusting in God to get me through this. I wanted so much to say, “Let go and let God.” I wanted so much to say, “This too shall pass.” I wanted so much to say, “It is what it is.” I wanted so much to count my blessings. But I just couldn’t. No matter how I tried, I just couldn’t. And I felt like a failure as a Christian, a hypocrite as a pastor, because I just couldn’t practice what I …um… preach.

And I bring all this up for two reasons. One, because I wonder if we all have things that trigger us like this. It may not be power outages for you, but it may be something else. Something that just causes you to shut down and not be able to find any joy or peace, something that may cause you guilt that you’re not able to deal with it better. Something you know you should be able to deal with better, but you just can’t. I tell you about this to tell you that if you feel that way sometimes, that’s normal, and it’s okay.

And two, because I wonder if this is something like what we see in today’s gospel reading. The disciples were so scared about this storm. They had already been through a terrifying storm on the sea with Jesus, but this time, they are alone, fighting the wind and rain all night long. Until finally around dawn Jesus came to them, walking on the water. And they were scared. So scared that they don’t even recognize Jesus, thinking he’s a ghost. Their fear swamped them, and they couldn’t see Jesus for who he is.

And Peter, he tried so hard to be brave. He tried to walk on the water himself, but he just couldn’t do it. He failed, and began to sink.

So what happened? Jesus reached out, and saved Peter. And what happened to the disciples? Jesus got into the boat with them, calmed the storm, and saved them. Even though they were terrified. Even though they didn’t recognize him. He was still there, with them, and saved them.

And that, I believe, is what Jesus does with me, and with you. Sometimes we are really good at trusting in him. But sometimes we aren’t. And there are some situations that no matter what we do, we just can’t seem to find that trust. For me, that’s a power outage. But Jesus still shows up anyway. Jesus saves us anyway. Jesus comes on board with us anyway.

I made it through that power outage. The power came back on. And even if it hadn’t – even if we were in the sixth day of an outage right now – even then, even though I know I would be a basket case by now, Jesus would be with me right here anyway. Jesus would be holding me and praying for me and waiting for me to be able to see him again.

And he’ll be there next time. The power’s going to go out again. Maybe next time is the time I can finally trust in God, and be calm, and get over my trauma or whatever it is. Maybe next time. Or maybe not. But no matter what, Jesus will be with me. Just like he’ll be with you. Every single time.

And he will gently, so gently, say to us, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

In those times, forgive yourself for your doubt. And just hold on. Just hold on. Because Jesus is coming to take your hand. He is coming to be with you in your boat.

Image by Boyan Chen from Pixabay