(With Abraham Fields playing his original composition)

“We are all in the same boat, in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.”  

                                                        ---G.K. Chesterton

On this first day of the new year, the worst storm to ever hit Alaska—-a massive “bomb cyclone” is raging, with historic low pressure, winds at 110 mph and seas at 54 feet. Storms have been our daily bread here for the last 2 months. Those north winds have tried to break in, shaking our walls, bowing our windows, with snow, sleet and rain striking with such force we thought we’d be sucked from our beds and swept away in a river down our stairs.

 This is my home, this faraway island of rock in the Gulf of Alaska. And when it all stops and the sun peers out and the world holds its pretty blue breath, we disbelieve the calm. We know another storm is already clotting the nearby skies.

But this is your life, too, isn’t it? Especially in 2020. We’ve all lived through a year where “unprecedented” became a cliche, even as we gaped disbelieving at the daily news: the elections, the riots, the virus, the loss of life, the loss of jobs, of security, of what we held dear and what we thought was immovable, safe. There we all were, out on the high seas in small boats. Sometimes barely holding on.

 How do we greet this new year with joy and innocence and hope? How do we pretend we are not sea-rocked and sick, tired and shaken from the old?

Come with me into one stormy night.

Twelve men were crossing the sea that night, twelve friends. It was just a lake, really, but the winds could barrel down and stir that coin of a lake into an angry ocean in minutes, and could blow for hours. There they were, men with just oars in their hands, with just muscle in their arms and shoulders, only flesh against the wind and an oceanic lake. All night long they leaned into the oars just to keep the bow into the waves, to save their lives. But their strength waned with each hour. And not two miles had passed.

You know what happened near morning, how he came to them upon the waters, feet on the tops of the sloshing waves. And you remember how one of them, Peter, our darling impetuous Peter leaped overboard into the waves to walk toward Jesus. And for a few miraculous moments, there he was, tight-wiring on the sea itself, a man aloft on the tumultuous waters, Peter the Triumphant mastering gravity, mortality, and inadequacy!!

Since that five second walk on water, we have all been urged to “get out of the boat” so we too can “walk on water.” We are told that if we have the faith of Peter, we too can leap out and tread on stormy seas, victorious! We too, if we keep our eyes on Jesus, we’ll never sink beneath the waves!

But Peter didn’t need to leap out of the boat. Jesus identified himself clearly to his friends in the storm: “Take courage! It is I. Do not be afraid.”

 Eleven men believed him then and knew it was their master who had come to them on the waters, but Peter did not believe him. “IF it is you, tell me to come to you on the water.”

It was Peter’s idea, not Jesus’. It was Peter’s doubt that sent him into the water, not faith. Jesus never intended for Peter or any of them to walk on water. There was no need. Jesus had already given them all they needed to survive the storm.

We must know that in 2021 there will be storms. Yes, we’ll tire at the oars, We’ll see the water filling the boat, we’ll bail for all we’re worth. We’ll think we’re going to sink. We’ll be tempted to jump overboard.

But those words to the twelve terrified men in the boat are words for us as well: 

“Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

 Do you see all we’ve been given? We’ve been given a boat----our family, our church, the Words of God, Jesus himself, our friends and companions, all of you HERE in this place.  And there is no storm, no wind no dark no sea that can keep him from us. He will always find us. He will come to us as the King and Lord over all of creation, striding on the very waters that threaten us, and he’ll call to us, gently and strong, from inside every storm,

“Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Let us keep rowing, dear friends, beside one another. He will be with us every day of the year to come.

We will not be afraid.  

Here, one of the songs that led me through the storms: