Matthew 14:22-33 “Danger?”

My sophomore year of college, I transferred to a small liberal arts college named Spring Arbor University. I had taken the leap to accept my call to ministry and changed my major from Electrical and Computer Engineering to Theological Studies. I was entering into a different world—a world underscored by Spring Arbor’s Cedar Bend Trip. Going to Cedar Bend was a weekend retreat required of all first years and transfers. It was to be a time where we would grow closer to each other, become adjusted to collegiate life, and remember that the way we do things now is not how they have always been done. So, on the first weekend in November, we went.

During our first morning at the camp, we loaded back into the bus and were told that we were embarking on a canoe trip. Our two retreat counselors explained that we were going to be canoeing a section of the Jordan River—a river they noted was the coldest and fastest spring in Michigan. We divided into groups of three and they painstakingly lectured us on the importance of assigning duties. “This is a very, very difficult river. If you do not have experience, you should NOT navigate.” As the resident Eagle Scout, I was assigned the navigators position, Alyssa the middle non-paddler position, and Seth the front paddler position. We were the fourth of five groups to set off. As we pushed off from the bank, I was surprised at how quickly the water moved. We bounded down the river and rounded our first turn. It was a lot faster than I was expecting so I sent us wide and hurtling toward the first of several downed trees in our path. With its imposing canopy partially visible above the water, we scrabbled and paddled hard to correct our path. We wound left and right as we over corrected and tried to match the currents pace. After the first obstacle we noticed that all three groups that had left before us were caught in trees. We had narrowly escaped disaster but knew that we had gotten lucky.

As we went on, we fell into rhythm with each other and the rushing waters. We got to anticipating difficult corners and clearly communicated through tight spots. A few hours in we settled in for lunch. As we were eating, our middle non-paddling passenger Alyssa was insistent that they could navigate. “I saw how you guys did it. I can do it too.” “Are you sure” Seth said. “It’s a really difficult river.” Alyssa was undeterred. “I have canoed before. I think I can do this.” Despite Alyssa’s earlier trepidation, we were impressed by her belief and courage. After weighing the issue, I looked to Seth “I think it’s time she had a turn.” We settled into our new positions on the bank. Alyssa navigating, Seth in the middle position, and me in the front paddler position. We set off rested and ready, but within moments disaster struck. The river was swift, and we took the first corner straight into the bank. Phew. It could have been worse. We took a few deep breaths and pushed off from the bank. We went around a tree near the bank and were face-to-face with a large log poking out through the river. We inched closer to it. “Log ahead! Paddle to the right!” I bellowed. Despite my pleas, we were too late. “BRACE!” The front of the canoe went over the boat, I was careful not to move a muscle. Seth’s portion of the canoe went over, and we maintained our balance. We can do this, I thought. Then, suddenly, the canoe snagged on an edge of the canoe and pulled the canoe sideways into the branch. Alyssa leaned and the canoe’s edge dipped into the water. She flew out and then, we were in the frigid waters of the Jordan.

The shock of the water hit immediately. I gasped, still under the water, and gulped up water. My feet couldn’t find the bottom, so I hurriedly scrambled for the surface. Steadying on the surface, I wiped away the water in my eyes to see our canoe, paddles, shoes, and flotation devices—which had become seat pads—floating down the river. We had held off disaster for hours and Alyssa had boldly stepped out in faith, but we sank anyway. How were we going to make it back?

Alyssa and Seth made it to shore and urged me to come to them. “But how are we going to get back?” No answer. I looked and saw the canoe disappearing out of sight. I took a deep breath and shouted back to shore. We need to make for our canoe. Now!” I set off swimming. I caught up to our two paddles, but our boat was far off. Stroke after stroke I continued. What felt like an eternity later, I finally caught up to the canoe. I held fast to it but couldn’t turn it over. It was too heavy. With feet scraping on sharp rock and body frozen by the water and chill November air, I did my best to direct the canoe to shore. Just then, Seth appeared at my side and Alyssa passed by on my left, “we are going to get the life preservers. Oh, and we found your shoes.” Seth and I set to work on the canoe. We flipped it with great strain and began scooping out water with our hands. We sighed, looked at each other, and laughed.

We still had more than an hour left of paddling before the trip was over. With toes curled, arms shaking, and jaws clattering we continued. It was miserable. With great effort and resolve we finally bounded the last corner and pulled into our final stop. Our faith is often like this. It is one where we step out in faith, where we take risks, where we try to do everything right, but it still falls to pieces. Our passage is often preached to encourage “more faith” or courage “to step out of the boat.”—we just need a little faith, a little courage, a little hope—but what happens when it all falls apart? What happens when it all goes to pieces, and you find yourselves shocked and gasping for breath? As we pulled in, Alyssa proudly waved our life preservers at us and came running with towels. I’ll never forget the sense of relief and warmth of that towel.

In this life, we will fall. In this life, things will fall to pieces. Many of us here in the church may feel that our collective canoes have spilled, that it’s all come apart. We might feel afraid to trust, afraid to step back into the canoe and paddle on. We might regret ever stepping out of that boat, ever stepping out in faith. But, beloved of God, Jesus proves to us that when everything falls apart, he is right there to catch us. Jesus shows us that in these moments of trial and tribulation there is one whose hand never wavers, whose feet never falter. Jesus proves to us that even when we are on the verge of drowning, he will help us get back into the boat. Let us pray.