The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 10:24-39 - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr

 

In 1735, John Wesley boarded a ship set for the colony of Georgia. He was thirty-two years old, educated at Oxford, ordained as a priest, and setting out as a missionary. By every outward measure, he was doing exactly what God had called him to do. He was headed across the ocean to preach the Gospel and help build the Church.

During the voyage, the ship hit a terrible storm. In his journal, Wesley described how the waves came over the deck. Water poured into the ship. The sails were torn. The vessel creaked and cracked under the force of the wind and waves. Many passengers thought the ship would not survive the storm. Wesley was terrified.

Also on board was a group of German Christians known as Moravians. As the storm raged, Wesley noticed something remarkable. While many passengers panicked, the Moravians gathered together and sang hymns. Not after the storm had passed. Not when they knew they were safe. During the storm. The waves were just as high for them. The danger was just as real. Yet they continued singing and praying.

They made it through the storm, and afterward, Wesley was talking with one of their leaders. He asked if they had been afraid. "No," said the leader. Wesley asked about the women and children, “Were they afraid during the storm?” "No," the man said again.

That conversation stayed with Wesley for years. It showed him something he didn’t want to see. Here he was, a priest and missionary, yet when the storm came, he discovered that his trust in God was not nearly as deep as he had imagined.

The storm did not teach Wesley something new about God. It taught him something about himself. I think that is why this story speaks so powerfully to today's Gospel.

At first glance, Matthew's words from Jesus seem harsh. Jesus speaks about persecution, division, crosses, and loss. It can sound as though the problem in the Gospel is opposition from the world. But I don't think opposition is the deepest problem Jesus is addressing. I think the deeper issue is fear. Opposition is what the disciples will face. Fear is what that opposition can do to them.

Jesus is preparing his disciples for a future they can’t control. They will face rejection. They will face criticism. They will face hardship. They will discover that following Christ does not exempt them from uncertainty. And Jesus knows exactly what fear can do to people. Fear can become the hidden force behind our decisions. Fear can cause us to cling tightly to what we cannot keep. Fear can convince us that everything depends on us. Fear can become so familiar that we hardly recognize it anymore.

The truth is that most of us are not afraid of persecution or being hauled in front of authorities because of our faith. But we know other fears. We fear for our health. We fear for our children and grandchildren. We fear financial uncertainty. We fear conflict. We fear loss. We fear making the wrong decision. We fear what the future may hold.

And sometimes fear disguises itself as something much more respectable. We call it concern. We call it responsibility. We call it planning. We call it being realistic.

One of the hardest lessons I've had to learn over the years is the difference between responsibility and control. God calls us to be responsible. God calls us to speak when something needs to be said. God calls us to lead, to serve, and sometimes even to disagree. But sooner or later, we all come to the place where we've said what we can say, done what we can do, and the outcome is no longer ours to determine. And that is often where we discover whether our trust is in God or in our ability to control the outcome.

Now, there is nothing wrong with any of those things. We should care deeply. We should plan wisely. We should take our responsibilities seriously. But sometimes, if we're honest, underneath all of that is a desire to make sure things turn out the way we think they should. And when they don't, we become anxious. We lose sleep. We replay conversations in our minds. We imagine different outcomes. We carry burdens that were never ours to carry.

I suspect most of us have experienced a storm that revealed something about ourselves. The storm doesn't create the weakness. It exposes it. When life is calm, we assume we are patient. Then a crisis comes, and we discover how impatient we really are. When life is calm, we assume we trust God. Then uncertainty arrives, and we discover how much we depended on being in control.

That is what happened to Wesley. The storm exposed the gap between what he believed and what he trusted. And perhaps that is what Jesus is addressing in today's Gospel. Because notice what Jesus does not say. He does not say, "Don't worry. Nothing bad will happen." He does not promise an easy road. He does not promise that every problem will be solved. Instead, Jesus points his disciples toward a deeper truth. They belong to God.

Jesus reminds them that not even a sparrow falls apart from the Father's care and that they are worth more than many sparrows. God knows them. God sees them. God loves them. Their security does not come from controlling the future. Their security comes from belonging to God.

That is what the Moravians understood on that storm-tossed ship. Their peace did not come from knowing they would survive. They didn't know that. Their peace came from knowing that whether they lived or died, they belonged to Christ. The storm was real. But God's presence was more real.

And that is what God is still doing in the world today. Not removing every storm. Not eliminating every uncertainty. Not guaranteeing that life will unfold exactly as we hope. God is teaching us to trust. God is reminding us, again and again, that our lives are held in hands far stronger than our own.

Every one of us is sailing through some kind of storm. Some are carrying grief. Some are carrying worry. Some are wrestling with situations for which there are no easy answers. Some are praying for someone they love. Some are living with questions that remain unanswered.

The question is not whether storms will come. The question is: what will we trust when they do? he Moravians sang. Wesley trembled. Most of us, I suspect, are somewhere in between. Some days our faith feels strong. Some days it feels fragile. Yet the good news is that God's faithfulness does not depend on the strength of our faithfulness. Jesus continues to speak the same words to us that he spoke to his first disciples. Do not be afraid. Not because the storm is small. Not because the future is certain. But because the God who holds us is greater than the storm. And because whatever happens, we belong to God. Amen.