Introduction
We are in the midst of a long turning point in Matthew’s Gospel. So, let’s recap a little bit.
The death of John the Baptist hangs over everything that follows. Jesus has withdrawn in grief, only to be interrupted by crowds who desperately need healing, hope, and compassion. Rather than sending them away, Jesus welcomes them. Through the hands of the disciples, the crowds are fed until everyone has enough and there are baskets left over. It is a remarkable display not simply of God’s abundance, but of the kind of Messiah Jesus has come to be. Unlike Herod, whose banquet ends in death, Jesus’ banquet ends in life.
With John’s death, the narrative begins to shift. The fate of the Baptist foreshadows the growing opposition Jesus will face. The crowds continue to grow, but so do the dangers. As Matthew’s Gospel moves forward, the shadow of the cross slowly begins to stretch across the story.
But another transition is quietly taking place.
The disciples are no longer merely observers of Jesus’ ministry. That transition actually began much earlier in Matthew’s Gospel when Jesus sent the Twelve to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven had come near, heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those with skin diseases, and cast out demons (Matt. 10). They have already been entrusted with Jesus’ authority and sent into the world in his name.
But Matthew begins introducing a new question. What happens when Jesus is no longer physically beside them?
That question increasingly shapes the remainder of the Gospel. As Jesus moves toward Jerusalem, the disciples will have to learn not only what Jesus has taught them to do, but how to trust his presence when they cannot immediately see him.
That is the setting for today’s Gospel.
Jesus compels the disciples to get into the boat while he dismisses the crowds and withdraws to pray alone. The Greek verb (ἠνάγκασεν) Matthew uses is remarkably strong. Jesus “made” or “compelled” them to get into the boat. They are not choosing this journey for themselves. They are going because Jesus has sent them.
The church has often understood this story as one about Peter walking on water. Matthew certainly includes Peter for an important reason. But before Peter ever steps out of the boat, Matthew invites us to notice something larger.
Jesus sends his disciples into the storm on their own. And then he comes to them there.
Narrative Context
This story is filled with echoes of Israel’s Exodus.
Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has repeatedly been portrayed as a prophet like Moses, and indeed, as one even greater than Moses. Matthew has carefully woven these connections from the opening chapters onward. Like Moses, Jesus survives a ruler’s murderous decree against infant boys. Like Israel, he comes out of Egypt. He passes through the waters. He spends forty days in the wilderness. He ascends a mountain to teach God’s people.
Now Matthew offers another mountain scene. After dismissing the crowds, Jesus goes up the mountain by himself to pray. Those familiar with the story of Moses cannot help but hear the resonance.
Again and again in Exodus, Moses ascends the mountain while God’s people remain below. During at least one of those absences, the people become anxious. They fear they have been abandoned. When Moses delays on Sinai, Israel quickly descends into chaos, constructing the golden calf because they assume Moses, and perhaps even God, is no longer coming back.
Matthew creates a similar moment of absence.
Jesus is on the mountain. The disciples are below on the sea. Night has fallen. The wind is against them. The boat is battered by the waves. Jesus is nowhere to be seen. But Jesus does not remain on the mountain.
He comes down. He comes toward his disciples.
The timing is also significant. Matthew tells us Jesus comes during “the fourth watch of the night,” sometime between approximately three and six in the morning. This detail may simply establish how long the disciples have struggled against the wind, but it also recalls another great story of God’s deliverance.
In Exodus 14:24, it is during the morning watch that the Lord acts against the Egyptian army at the Red Sea. Once again God’s people find themselves surrounded by waters they cannot master. Once again God comes to save.
Matthew layers these images carefully. Mountain. Waters. Morning watch. God’s saving presence.
Matthew is inviting readers to see Jesus through the lens of Israel’s story.
But there is another important narrative connection as well. This is not the first storm the disciples have experienced.
Back in Matthew 8, Jesus and the disciples crossed these same waters. A violent storm arose while Jesus slept peacefully in the boat. Terrified, the disciples cried out, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!”
Jesus rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. The disciples responded with amazement: “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?”
That earlier story established something essential. Jesus possesses authority over creation itself.
The wind obeys him.
The sea obeys him.
Chaos obeys him.
Today’s story assumes we remembers that earlier revelation. The question is no longer whether Jesus has authority over the sea. The question is whether the disciples believe that authority still belongs to him when he is not already sitting in the boat beside them.
Peter’s Doubt and Faith
Peter is often treated as either the hero or the failure of this story.
Some sermons celebrate his courage for stepping out of the boat. Others criticize him for losing focus and sinking. But both readings can unintentionally make Peter the center of the story.
Matthew’s focus is elsewhere.
Peter’s first words are not a request to prove himself. They are a request for Jesus to reveal himself.
“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”
Peter knows that only Jesus can command the waters. He has already seen this happen in Matthew 8, when Jesus rebuked the wind and the sea and there was a great calm. The disciples had asked then, “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?”
Peter knows the answer is Jesus.
So Peter is not testing whether Jesus has the power. He is asking Jesus to confirm that this is truly him.
“If it is you, command me.”
And Jesus does.
“Come.”
Peter responds as disciples throughout Matthew respond to Jesus’ voice.
He follows.
He steps out of the boat.
He walks on the water.
The point of this moment is not that Peter is brave enough or faithful enough to do something impossible. The point is that Jesus’ command creates faithfulness. Peter is able to step onto the water because Jesus has spoken.
Then Peter notices the wind.
The storm has not disappeared. The waves are still present. The danger is still real.
Peter begins to sink.
And in the most human moment of the story, he cries out:
“Lord, save me!”
This is not Peter failing a test.
This is Peter doing what disciples have always done in Matthew.
When they are overwhelmed, they cry out to Jesus.
When the storm came in chapter 8, the disciples cried, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!”
Now Peter cries, “Lord, save me!”
And Jesus immediately reaches out his hand.
Only after Jesus has caught Peter does he ask:
“You of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Perhaps the question is not about why Peter doubted his own ability to stay above the water.
Perhaps Jesus is asking why Peter doubted something far more important:
Why did you doubt me?
Peter has seen so much.
He has heard Jesus teach with authority unlike any other teacher. He has watched Jesus heal diseases, cast out demons, and restore those who were pushed to the margins. He has witnessed Jesus command the wind and the sea. He has already experienced the power and presence of Jesus in his own life.
And yet, in the middle of the storm, Peter struggles to believe what he has already seen.
He struggles to believe that Jesus is still Jesus.
That is the deeper question beneath Peter’s doubt.
Not whether Jesus has power.
Peter knows Jesus has power.
Not whether Jesus can save.
Peter knows Jesus can save.
The question is whether Peter trusts that Jesus will remain present when the storm becomes overwhelming.
And that is precisely the question Matthew’s Gospel has been asking from the beginning.
At the very start of Matthew, Jesus is named Emmanuel: “God with us” (1:23). Not God distant from us. Not God present only when circumstances are calm. God with us.
The disciples are learning what that means.
God with us in the boat.
God with us on the mountain.
God with us in the wilderness.
God with us in the storm.
Peter’s problem is not that he has never encountered Jesus. His problem is that, for a moment, the storm becomes bigger than his memory of who Jesus is.
But Jesus does not abandon him in that moment.
Jesus does not say, “You should have known better.”
Jesus does not say, “You were right to be afraid.”
Jesus reaches out his hand. Because that is who Jesus is.
The same Lord who commands the waters is the Lord who catches those who sink.
The same Lord who calls disciples into the storm is the Lord who comes to them in the storm.
The same Lord who says, “Come,” is the Lord who says, “I have you.”
Preaching Possibilities
God With Us in the Storm
Many sermons built around this text become sermons about faith versus fear.
Peter steps out of the boat, but then he doubts. Therefore, the sermon becomes a call to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and not the storms around us.
Certainly faith and fear are both present in this story. But Matthew seems interested in something deeper.
The question is not simply whether Peter has enough faith.
The question is: Where is Christ found?
The answer throughout this section of Matthew has been remarkably consistent.
The crowds are hungry. Jesus comes to them.
The disciples are overwhelmed by feeding thousands. Jesus provides.
Now the disciples are isolated on a storm-tossed sea. Jesus comes again.
Again and again throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus moves toward people in their vulnerability rather than waiting for them to find their way to him.
That pattern matters because the storm is not evidence that the disciples have failed.
Jesus sent them into the boat.
They are not there because they ignored Jesus.
They are there because they obeyed Jesus.
And yet, obedience does not guarantee calm waters.
Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus continually sends disciples into places they would never choose for themselves. He sends them to proclaim the kingdom. He sends them to heal. He sends them into villages where they may be welcomed or rejected. Eventually, he will send them to all nations.
Being sent does not guarantee smooth sailing.
Being sent guarantees Christ’s presence.
And that is where Peter’s doubt becomes so important.
The problem in this story is not that Peter has too little information about Jesus. Peter has seen Jesus do remarkable things. He has heard Jesus teach with authority. He has watched Jesus heal diseases, cast out demons, and restore those who were pushed to the margins. He has witnessed Jesus command the wind and the sea.
Peter knows who Jesus is. And yet, when the storm surrounds him, Peter struggles to trust what he already knows.
Perhaps that is one of the most honest descriptions of faith.
Faith is not simply learning something about God once and never struggling again. Faith is the lifelong process of remembering who God has already shown Godself to be.
The disciples have seen Jesus before, but the storm causes them to forget.
The same is true for us.
We know the stories.
We have heard the promises.
We have experienced God’s presence.
And yet there are moments when the wind becomes louder than the voice of Jesus. There are moments when the storm becomes bigger than our memory of God’s faithfulness.
That is the struggle of faith.
Not whether we have encountered God, but whether we trust that God remains present when circumstances make God’s presence difficult to see.
This is the promise of Emmanuel: God with us.
Not God with us only when the waters are calm.
Not God with us only when our faith feels strong.
God with us in the storm.
Matthew’s good news is not that faithful people never forget. The good news is that Jesus remembers.
When Peter forgets who Jesus is, Jesus does not forget who Peter is.
When Peter doubts, Jesus does not withdraw.
When Peter sinks, Jesus reaches out his hand.
This is what “God with us” looks like.
This is the promise given not only to Peter, but to the whole church.
The church is a people sent into the world by Christ. And like the disciples in the boat, we do not choose every storm we encounter.
Congregations experience seasons of uncertainty, grief, conflict, transition, and change. Individuals experience moments when the wind seems against them and the presence of God feels difficult to see.
Matthew offers no promise that the storms will disappear.
The promise is something deeper.
The One who sends us is the One who comes to us.
The One who calls us into the waters does not leave us there.
The One who commands the sea is the One who reaches out his hand
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Micah Krey 