Eyes on Jesus
Original sermon given on The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, August 9, 2026 written and delivered by Pastor Jeff Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
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“Eyes on Jesus”
Matthew 14.22-34
Eyes on Jesus
In the name of the Living God and the Risen Christ. Amen.
When the prophet Job seeks to dispute with the Almighty, he first begins with a heaping helping of humble pie: “[God] alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea” (Job 9.80). The Psalmist, likewise, when recounting God’s mighty salvation in the Exodus at the crossing of the Red Sea, sings, “Your path led through the seas, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen” (Psalm 77.20). Isaiah as well peered into the waters of the chaos of the sea, but prophesied, “[The Lord has] … made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters…” (Isaiah 43.16)
We might hope that these frightened Jewish fishermen had scriptures like these on their lips as they’re rowing against the wind on a “dark and stormy night.” However, the reality is that they had other things on their minds (and probably also coming out of their mouths). Let me take you first into the storm. It’s a furious windstorm — not of rain, but a sudden nighttime gale like Galilee was known for. The wind is against them like an enemy; it’s barrage of waves tormenting both the boat itself and their tired bodies as they’ve been rowing all night. We’re not told precisely how far away from shore — "many stadia” the original says — but it’s certainly several miles out in the middle of lake that’s four miles across. There’s no turning back; they’ve been blown off course. It’s hard going forward and exhaustion is setting in. They’re rowing during the fourth watch of the night, which is between 3and 6am.
Now, they loved their sea. Needed it. It was their livelihood and connection to other villages for trade. Being a fresh water lake, it provided nourishment for them and sustenance (water and fish). No one would be living there without it. It was also a very efficient form of transportation, if you knew what you were doing and the weather was right.
But their sea was also capricious — it could change in an instant, unleashing chaos and destruction. That’s why, although they were religious men, they also were steeped in the superstitions of the sea, as I think all sailors are. (Rather like hockey players — all a bit superstitious.) For them, dragons, demons, or even the “spirits of the drowned haunted those waters.”[1] So, it’s not that surprising that when they see something walking out on the water in the midst of raging wind, they’re terrified and think he’s a ghost. “Phantasm” is Matthew’s word — an apparition of some kind.
St. Matthew’s account, after focusing our eyes on the storm, narrows the lens onto Peter. And that’s what brings this story to life for us. Peter is totally Peter here. He’s all right or all wrong. Go big or go home — like at the Last Supper (impetuous oath), or in the Garden of Gethsemane (drawing a sword), or after the Resurrection (jumping into the water to run to Jesus). I remember a teacher giving me friendly advice one time using this little quip: “Jeff, it’s better to remain silent and only appear stupid, rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt.” With Peter, it’s more like, “better to remain in the boat and only appear faithless, rather than to get out of the boat and remove all doubt.”
But Peter’s got to get out of that boat, doesn’t he? No way is he staying in there! They’re all afraid, rowing in that boat with the same wind and waves, same weariness, same superstitions, but Peter’s got to take it one leap forward. He’s got to call and test whether it’s really Jesus: “Lord, if you it really is, call me to come to you upon the sea” (Matt. 14.28). It’s almost as if he’s testing Jesus, who’s testing him.
But we all know how that goes for him. When Jesus calls him out, Peter can’t make it. He jumps out and for a moment walks towards Jesus, but then sinks into the dark, cold water. Why? Because he takes his eyes off Jesus and focuses instead on the wind and the waves.
What a lesson for us! So many distractions. So many things to fear. So much uncertainty. So much chaos — both outside us, in the world around us; and within us, in our own hearts and minds. Like the weather on the capricious sea, life can change on you in an instant. Fixing our eyes on Jesus is so difficult! But the lesson of the sinking Peter calls out to us in every moment of our own exhaustion, darkness and fear: where else are you going to look? In the end, you’ve got to be more about what you love than what you hate; more about what you know than what you fear; more about who he is than who you are. Eyes on Jesus.
This miracle account is a story that tells itself. It’s set up for us — ready made to apply to our Christian lives and our relationship with Jesus. It dramatizes the life of every Christian. “Where is Jesus? Why is he not here when I need him most? It’s so frightening. I’m so exhausted from fighting it. If he’s really there, he’ll call out to me, give me a sign. But even when he does, it’s not enough, because I always fall.”
If you can get into Peter’s sandals (or, rather, out of his sandals and out of the boat and into the water with him), then you can understand the Christian life.
It’s not one of untroubled, constant, calm seas; nor one of just cowering in the boat in fear, despair and exhaustion; nor of streaking smoothly on top the water into the waiting arms of Jesus. The Christian life is about sinking again and again but being held by Jesus’ hand again and again and again.
Because the truth is, we’ve all been there with Peter. And we’ll all sink again, struggling with faith, struggling to stay focused. But this miracle is not about Peter’s faith and focus, but Christ’s upon him and us. That’s why at the end of the story, they’re all on their faces worshiping Christ as the Son of God in the peace of his presence. They’re not bowed before one another; or before the spirits of the sea; or before their own sailing skill and mighty endurance. They worship him alone, knowing both his everlasting love and almighty power.
I began this morning quoting the Psalms and the Prophets, who Jesus said all point to him. He’s the God who treads on the waves of the seas. He’s the One whose path is made through the waters of chaos. He’s the One whose presence calms the raging wind. His cross for us is his great and powerful hand reaching deep into our human condition, grabbing onto us, and refusing to let us go. And his resurrection is the promise that one day, one glorious day, it will be all smooth sailing again… forever.
Eyes on Jesus.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.
[1] France, Matthew, 569
Image Source: Runge, Philipp Otto, 1777-1810. Christ Walking on the Water, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt University Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://act.library.vanderbilt.edu/artworks/59351 [retrieved August 10, 2026]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Philipp_Otto_Runge_-_Petrus_auf_dem_Meer_%28ca._1806%29.jpg.
