Water Daily

8-11-23 - Sink or Swim

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Peter got out of the boat. He took a few steps, actually walking on water. He was doing fine, focused on Jesus… until he felt the wind and remembered this was technically impossible. Then he started to sink.

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?”

“Why did you doubt?” I told a story yesterday about an indigenous community that took Jesus’ stories at face value and did what he did in the gospels, not considering it miraculous. I don't know if that story is true. But I do remember reading in one of Madeleine L’Engle’s autobiographies that, as a small child at her family’s country place, she made a game of going down the stairs without touching them. She clearly remembered doing that, and she did it until she learned that was impossible.

What makes us doubt, aside from “knowledge,” is the strong winds. It’s adversity, and the times we’ve been wrong before, and the voices of people who say you’re crazy to believe you can do this or say that, that it’s nuts to be a person of faith. This does not mean that we should do everything we think of – but we should respond to the Spirit’s promptings. Peter stepped out onto the water at Jesus’ command, and because Jesus was out there waiting for him.

The risks we should consider are ones we take as steps of faith, in relationship with the One who has told us all things are possible. That One is also at hand to save us when we start to sink. Most activities of faith involve some stepping out and some sinking… at those times, like Peter, we cry out for Jesus’ hand, and it is there. The crying out and trusting that God will be with us are also acts of faith. Our whole faith life “out of the boat” is one we live in relationship to God, not as solo operators.

Was there a time in your life when you really stepped out, felt called to something, and went forward, not sure if you would be supported? Did you ever falter? What was it that caused you to doubt? Did you start to sink? What was your response? What was the activity of God in you at that time? We need these memories to strengthen us for action now.

What faith activity do you feel called to walk out into at this time in your life? What would you need to feel or know in order to take that first step onto the water? Do you need a stronger sense that Jesus is with you, waiting for you, ready to help you if you falter? That's a good prayer for today...

The message our culture gives is often, “You’re on your own, sink or swim.” Jesus’ message is, “Sink or walk… I will be with you, even if you feel yourself sinking.” Whatever risks of faith we feel called to take, we can step out, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, even as the winds and the waves try to claim our attention. One step after another, fixed on his power and love, and we can cross oceans.

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8-10-23 - Stepping Out

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

I was told once of an indigenous community in Africa evangelized by missionaries. These visitors told them some key stories about Jesus, but then took sick and died. The people of the tribe were open to the power of God as the missionaries described it, and took the stories at face value. For years, reportedly, they routinely crossed rivers and streams by walking on the water – until other missionaries came along and explained that it was just a story. Then they couldn’t do it anymore.

Three of our four gospels record Jesus walking on water. Whatever we make of the story, it seems to have been foundational to the earliest Christians, one of many stories that reveal the Kingdom life of God displayed in Jesus the Christ. Okay, sure, but he was Jesus. If you buy Jesus being the Christ, the anointed Son of God, it’s not hard to buy that he walked on water.

Matthew, however, adds a detail that brings the story closer to us. When the disciples in the boat see Jesus walking on the sea and are terrified, he says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” And Peter responds in a particularly fearless way: 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.

Now the pressure is on. If Peter can walk on the water at Jesus’ invitation, what is to prevent the rest of us? Why don’t we try it? Is it because we “know” we cannot, and that knowledge provided by our physical senses so overrides any spiritual conviction we might have? If we didn't know that this is "just a story," would our faith be less inhibited?

Just a story? This is quite a story. And it’s one of those we can run with, whether we take it as reported fact or spiritual metaphor. Even as metaphor, it can bear our weight. Because stepping out in faith, taking risks we believe we’ve been called by God to take, these are intrinsic to the Christian life. I don’t believe any follower of Christ is called to just stay in her boat, come hell or high water. There are times when we’re all called to get out of the boat and take a step on the water towards Jesus. And then another.

Yesterday we asked ourselves what some of the “headwinds” facing our “boats” are. Those challenges may or may not be related to the areas in which we’re sensing a nudge to take a faith risk. So today let's ask: What seas do you feel called to step out upon? A different job? Retirement? New relationship? Ending an old relationship? Greater ministry responsibility? Living on less? Living healthier? Less dependency on someone or some thing? More dependency?

This is also a question that churches must constantly ask: where is Jesus calling us to step out of the boat of our comfort or complacency and walk with him on the water? Might that mean giving up some ministries? Taking on new ones? Worshipping differently? Joining in community with people who are different from us?

The answers will vary according to the person and the community. The constant is this: No one is asked to step out of the boat onto a stormy sea by himself. "So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus.” And Jesus stayed right there with him. If we step out, we step out with Jesus. What more do we need, than courage, our shaky faith, and all the power in the universe? Jesus said, "Come.”

8-9-23 - Take Heart

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

I am not particularly “open” to the spirit world, thankfully; I prefer the company of the living. But once I experienced what seemed to me to be the strong presence of God in a room where I was praying, and I confess I was terrified. Intrusions of the spiritual Other, even when holy, often inspire fear. Most angelic encounters recorded in the bible start with the angel saying, “Do not be afraid…”

And so it was on that lake in the middle of the night: 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."

What was more frightening, I wonder – the sight of Jesus strolling on the surface of the water, or that he might be a ghost? Neither notion is comforting. Apparitions from the beyond are no more unsettling than seeing the seemingly immutable laws of nature overturned. We expect reality to behave in the ways we have observed; the supernatural messes with our filing system.

And yet, an intrusion of the Other into our neatly categorized world is exactly what we celebrate as Christians: the cataclysmic intrusion of God into human form and life in Christ, and in these days after Pentecost, the constant intrusion of the Holy Spirit in our lives, and selves. Sometimes those encounters are powerful enough to inspire awe in us – and occasionally even fear. So these words of Jesus are for us, too: “Take heart. Take heart, I am here.”

In our story, the disciples were coping with high waves and a nasty headwind pushing them further and further from shore. “Take heart” was Jesus’ invitation to trust and allow his peace to flow into them, even if he did speak these words from outside the boat, standing on the stormy sea.

What winds are you sailing into in your life at present, keeping you from getting to shore, to any kind of stability and peace? Any waves threatening to swamp your boat? Today in prayer imagine yourself in a storm-tossed boat, bringing to mind specifically those things that are causing the wind and the waves. And then let’s see Jesus outside the boat, walking on the water toward us, peaceful, calm, in control. Does knowing he’s right there change how we feel about these challenges? Invite him into each one.

May we today enjoy a holy intrusion into our quotidian routines. I hope the Holy Spirit shows up, bidden or not, and let’s us know he’s there. I hope she still the storms in us, and gives the assurance we need that God does not stay out of our lives, but comes as close as we will allow, unbound by the limits we live with. As we allow God to come closer still, we might find ourselves less bound by those limits too.

8-8-23 - Missing the Boat

You can listen to this reflection here.

My to-do list might be considered a source of abundance in my life, since it truly never runs out. It also provides the best excuses for not taking time away from the workload to relax, refresh, and simply “be.” What if I don’t get the next thing done, or I miss a deadline or an appointment?

In this week’s gospel story, we see Jesus make that choice, to miss the boat, sending the disciples on without him. Yet somehow he manages to arrive when needed:

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.

Easy for him, eh? Sure, if we could teleport ourselves through space, or skip across bodies of water, we’d make up for lost time too. It seems we can’t do either of those things, being more constrained by the limits of space and time and elements than Jesus appeared to have been.

But I have often found the principle works just the same. When we take the time we need for prayer and self-care, somehow deadlines get met, or they shift due to other, unforeseen factors – or we miss them and find out it’s okay. At my best, when I feel the wind of the Spirit in my sails, I feel that God has the timing under control and I just have to walk in the “good works God has prepared beforehand for me.” Things I thought I should have done ages ago work out in a way that they could not possibly have before this moment, or they prove not to have been as necessary as I thought.

But we only know that after the fact. Somehow we have to keep navigating the fine line between our agency as servants of God, and the power of God to accomplish what God wills. Some say “Work as though it’s all up to you; pray as though it’s all up to God.” I prefer, “Pray, because it’s all up to God, and work as the Spirit guides you.” And if you don’t feel any guidance, go forward as you want – if we are faithful, God will make sure the pieces line up in the end. Somehow.

When have you taken time for yourself, and didn’t do something you were supposed to do, or missed being somewhere you were supposed to be? Did the thing get done anyway? Did you connect with the right people later? Was there any “coincidence” in it coming out right?

Does your spirit yearn for some restorative time now? Are your obligations obstacles to slaking that thirst? What would it look like if you just took the time and watched to see how the Spirit gets you across the water to where you’re needed?

In these summer days, I want to be outside, and am not always as focused on work as I “should.” But it’s what my spirit craves, and 'tis the season for outside. I do work out there…and listen to the birds and watch the squirrels leap from branch to branch and pet the cats and admire the growing tomatoes and herbs. I don’t know what boats I might be missing but I choose to believe I’ll be where I’m supposed to be when. Certainly I’ll be less stressed.

One of my favorite cartoons shows a person sitting contentedly at a desk, over the caption, “I love deadlines. I love to watch them fly by.” Can I get an amen?

8-7-23 - Time Apart

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Sooner or later, Jesus was going to get that “alone time” he’d been wanting. It came a day later than planned, a full day of healing, teaching and miraculously feeding thousands of people – but then he took his retreat. Once the leftovers were collected, “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."

Being a conduit of the power of God takes energy out of a person, even Jesus. The need to rest, recharge, reconnect with the Spirit of God is as important as the visible ministry we do, maybe more so. We can do a kind of recharging in community, especially over a meal and a celebration, but for most people, our deep spirit is best renewed in solitude.

Solitude is hard to find in our multiply-connected, always “on” world. But there’s more to it than finding alone space. Many of us live with a malaise that makes it hard to seek quiet time. Our constant input, 24-7 connectivity provides ample distraction to avoid darker feelings, disappointments, mistakes, hurts we have inflicted or received, emptiness and pain.

We all know about distracted driving; maybe we should also wrestle with distracted living, moving too fast to notice what and who is around us, rushing to the next thing that will make us feel connected, filling every moment and part of our lives so we don’t have to face the emptiness and loss inside.

What happens when you get time alone? Are you able to sit quietly with yourself, or do you read, download, check texts, emails, social media, google questions and watch funny pet videos? I’m afraid I too often do puzzles or pay bills; sitting quietly with myself or with Jesus can be a great challenge. I run back to my to-do list at the drop of a hat. The to-do list makes me feel filled and fulfilled, recognized, connected. Who wants to sit in silence before the vastness that is God?

Well, Jesus did… and he knew he needed that in order to live fully into his identity. Granted, he had a relationship with the Father; he didn’t need to forge one. But in his humanity he was as vulnerable as we are to the games of ego and gratification and regard. One way to live out of his true identity and not the false ones the world tried lure him into was to break away on his own sometimes for prayer and solitude. Same goes for us.

Do you do that every week? Every day? Might we covenant together to spend about ten minutes off the grid each day this week, sitting with the silence and stillness, uncomfortable as it might be? The only way to reset our priorities is to sit before God, still and waiting and expectant. Man, that’s hard for me! If it’s easy for you, you are blessed indeed. Share your secret with someone.

Here’s a prayer we can try: “Come, Holy Spirit. Quiet my mind, stir up my soul. Breathe your life into me and let me come into stillness. Let me hear what I need to hear, discern what I need to let go of. Renew my spirit, refresh my mind, and re-center me so that, like a record on a turntable, your song plays through me truly, without distortion, for those around me to hear.” Don't put any "shoulds" on it. Just call it “me time.” It’s really “Me and God” time, but no one needs to know that…

8-4-23 - Power and Light

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

I am intrigued by the physics of the Transfiguration. Did Jesus become filled with blinding light, did he reflect the light of God – or did he become light? My pet theory is that in that moment Jesus let slip the veil of human flesh that contained him during his incarnate life in this world, and manifest the light of which he was fashioned. “I am the light of the world,” he said. Physics tells us that light is one form of energy. God, the essential energy of the cosmos, can manifest anywhere along the spectrum – perhaps in that moment the Son of God became pure, blinding light.

The idea of God as pure energy, the source of all energy, helps to make sense of the miraculous, and aligns with much scientific thinking (not that I understand scientific thinking well enough to talk about how it aligns… I only know many physicists think so). If I had my druthers, I would refer to what Jesus called “the kingdom of God” as “the energy field of God” – that seems a more descriptive label.

If all matter is really energy, it makes sense that Jesus invites us to tap into the Energy that launched the universe, in which all things are restored to wholeness. That is what we are doing when we pray, “Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” We are praying ourselves into the energy field of God, and as we become comfortable channeling that energy, we become better conductors of it into the realm of this world.

Of course, energy can be harnessed to destruction as well as growth. The same Sunday when we celebrate the Feast of the Transfiguration, August 6th, is the day that marks the atomic bombings of Hiroshima in 1945. In that blinding light was unleashed enough energy to flatten a city, turn many of its citizens into walking torches, and poison the survivors with radiation that affected generations. Without arguing the factors that brought about that event, we can agree on the tragedy of death and destruction of ordinary people on such a scale. God’s gifts to us can be used to build up or to tear down, to give life or to bring death.

God has made us stewards of the power that generated worlds. Even now, God invites us to dwell in his energy field, to become conductors of Holy Spirit power into broken people and systems, governments and communities. Perhaps this power of God, wielded in faith, can even heal the damage we have done to this earth we call home.

Where are you being called to be a conduit of light and energy? God’s power and light?

Come Sunday, let us grieve the estimated 135,000 or so lives lost 78 years ago, and the human ways of dealing with conflict that brought about such an event. And let us celebrate the power Jesus showed for just a moment on that mountain, so his followers would have a visual image of the Life of God that he demonstrated in every word and miracle, even in his death, and certainly in his resurrection. That power is given to us. It is made perfect in our weakness. Let God wield it through you.

8-3-23 - In a Cloud

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Have you ever found yourself in a cloud? Somewhere when a fog rolls in and you find yourself completely enveloped in white, your visibility of anything beyond your own form completely obscured? It is a deeply disorienting experience. Now, what if that cloud began to speak? …a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

Of course, on the mount of Transfiguration, it wasn’t the cloud speaking, it was God. But why in a cloud? Maybe the blocking of other senses allowed the disciples to focus more on the aural experience, the voice of God, and its message. And what about that message, so similar to what some heard at Jesus’ baptism, but with the added command, “Listen to him.” It was aural confirmation of visual evidence. When they were tempted to doubt, they had another form of authority on which to rest. And when they were ready to talk – perhaps after Jesus’ resurrection? – these three witnesses had quite a story to tell.

How does God get our attention? We can be so enveloped in activities and media and dashing here and there, responding to so many messages, it can be hard for the voice of God to get through. Perhaps we should choose to put ourselves in a cloud periodically, to dramatically reduce the stimuli, simplify the order of the day. One might say that is what the practice of centering prayer achieves – entering a cloud of soft quiet, where we see little and hear only silence.

That is also what happens on retreat, whether for a few hours or a few days: we slip into a simpler rhythm of meals, rest, walks, study, prayer, with fewer choices to make. And as we give ourselves to the simplicity and the silence, eventually God’s voice begins to get through.

One of the great classics of Christian spirituality is a 14th century book called The Cloud of Unknowing (the link is to an edition I like very much), whose author suggests that God is to be found not in knowledge and evidence so much as in absence and mystery. It’s not the way we usually think of seeking God in our take-charge, work-for-what-you-want culture. But that medieval mystic was on to something.

Perhaps that’s what God was doing with that cloud, reminding us that the deepest knowledge comes from what we cannot see or figure out for ourselves. The deepest Truth can only come from God, who speaks in a sound of sheer silence.