Do Not Be Afraid
February 5, 2023
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
Scripture Reading
John 6:16-21
16 When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, 17 got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. 18 The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. 19 When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened. 20 But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” 21 Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.
In the fall, I had one sermon where I only preached one verse, and I managed to make the sermon last forty minutes. But sometimes when we have a short passage, like this morning, it’s good to have a short sermon. Today, I’ll keep it short, so that after the sermon we have extra time to apply the themes of this passage through guided prayer.
By way of introduction, I’ll say that if, after church, I were to go to the grocery store, filled up my car with gas, workout at the gym, and do whatever, and if I told you about it, I wouldn’t give you all the details about which way I drove and which stoplights were red and which were green. But if something crazy—something scary—were to happen along the way, I’d include that. At the command of Jesus, the disciples go for a simple boat ride from one edge of a lake to another, a sort trip that these men would have done many times, the kind of trip you might not say much about were you telling the story. Except something crazy and something scary happened along the way, something that gave them all kinds of fear and took all kinds of fear away. And John doesn’t want us to miss it. Let’s pray again as we begin. “Dear Heavenly Father . . .”
People say the most clichéd way to start a story is with the line, “It was a dark and stormy night . . .” My impression, however, is that to be in a storm on a dark and stormy night, especially while on a huge body of water, would not feel so clichéd. One time, I was on a lake in Virginia on a sunny afternoon, and that afternoon became a dark and stormy afternoon. Dark clouds rolled over the mountains along the edge of the lake, and when we noticed those clouds and that every other boat was getting off the lake, we realized the boat my parents had rented should probably be returned early. My father and I dropped everyone off at the dock, and he and I went a few miles to return the boat. We did so with rain flying sideways into us.
That storm was a little bitty baby storm compared to the one the disciple experienced on this dark and stormy night. Not to mention that my father and I had a modern pontoon boat with 150 horsepower. The storm these disciples experienced would have brought them to the end of themselves, which, by the way, they were already at.
As I mentioned last week, in Mark’s account of the feeding of the five thousand he notes that the disciples were so weary that they didn’t have time for themselves to eat because the crowd—and all the sickness and all the needs—were all-consuming (Mark 6:31). That’s important to remember. It seems reasonable to assume the miracle of the feeding would have energized them. The miracle of five tiny muffins and two little sardines becoming enough food to feed an arena of people would have energized them. But then their fatigue settles back in. And that’s when they clock-in for the night shift.
We read that they leave in a boat just before dark, and Jesus doesn’t come to them until, the other Gospel accounts say, “the fourth watch of the night,” meaning somewhere between 3 am and 6 am (Matt. 14:25; Mark 6:48). This means they row against the wind for perhaps ten hours. Again: They host 15,000 people, clean up the leftovers, get in a boat, and row against the wind—all after they were already running on fumes.
Maybe you know this fatigue. Maybe you, like the disciples, know the fatigue of your best efforts getting you seemingly nowhere, which can lead to a kind of fear and despair. And to make it more pointed, maybe you’re not doing anything wrong. Maybe, like these disciples, you’re wholeheartedly engaged in obedience to king Jesus, and yet you still feel alone and in a place of fear and fatigue. That might be, however, right where God wants you this morning. But, as we’ll see in the story, it’s not where he wants to leave us. He wants to get in the boat with us. The presence of the living Jesus makes a big difference.
When Fear Abounds
The story begins with fear and fatigue abounding. I’ll read again vv. 16–18.
16 When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, 17 got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. 18 The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing.
If you poke around Bible commentaries on this passage, you’ll see many authors point out how dangerous the Sea of Galilee can be. It is 600 ft below sea level, and cold wind from the mountains can rush down across the lake and collide with warmer air. I’m not a meteorologist, but everyone pointed out this was dangerous, even for professional fishermen. This passage makes me picture one of those documentary-type shows about the men on fishing boats catching Alaskan king crabs, shows that make you afraid just looking at the commercial.
In that image, the image of a boat tossed upon the sea, we see a picture of the church, or what it often feels like to be the church. Listen to how author Bruce Milne put it.
The disciples are alone in the boat in the darkness when a storm blows up, as was frequently the case on the lake of Galilee. There is a mood of discouragement underlined by John’s observation that it was dark (17). Here is discipleship without the discerned presence of the Lord, and, recalling the traditional image of the church as a boat, it is not difficult to make application. In many parts of the world today, particularly in the West, it would be difficult to find a more telling picture of the church. Here is a small handful of people, seemingly remote from the land where most people live their lives, apparently irrelevant to the great issues confronting the world. It is tossed by the winds of secularism without and controversy and uncertainty within, out of touch with its point of departure, unsure of its whereabouts, and with no clear destination ahead. (Bruce Milne, The Message of John, The Bible Speaks Today Series, 107).
Behold, the church. I could see someone objecting to that description of the church as too negative, too pessimistic. Christ is building his church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail, right? There’s a verse about that somewhere, right? There is. We spent all fall teaching Matthew 16. I’m not saying, just as a careful reading of that quote from Bruce Milne is not saying, that this fragile boat is what the church fully is. Rather, we’re saying that is often how the church feels. Not to discourage you, but I can be more specific. This image of being fearful, fatigued, and fragile can be how your church leadership sometimes feels. Many many disciples of Jesus feel this way much of the time.
One of my favorite preachers is a man known for his bold and courageous sermons. He leads an international missionary agency. I remember him saying once in a sermon that there are times when he’s ready to trust the Lord when their organization’s missionaries go to jail and when their missionaries are threatened with their lives. He’s ready. He takes it in stride, full of faith. Other times, he said, a staff member might come into his office and say, “We’re out of pencils,” and this same leader wants to curl up in the fetal position and cry. How will we ever make it as a missionary agency if we can’t even buy enough pencils? It’s silly until you know the feeling. Apart from Christ, churches and Christians are like houses of cards on dark and stormy nights.
How did these disciples get into this predicament, so fearful and fatigued? That’s important to notice. In the Old Testament book of Jonah, Jonah got into a storm on the sea through his disobedience. Jonah was running from the Lord, and the Lord sent a storm to get his attention. Is that why the disciples were in the storm? It’s not. I’ll read how Matthew introduces this story: After the feeding of the five thousand, “Immediately he [Jesus] made the disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds” (Matt. 14:22). This is important to understand, especially because of what I said last week. Last week, if you were here, I made a huge deal that Jesus puts blessings along the path of obedience. Philip didn’t understand how Jesus would feed the crowd, but he trusted and obeyed. Philip had the crowd sit down, and Jesus fed them. Blessings along the path of obedience.
What happens here? Was I wrong? Did I lie? Does following Jesus lead to blessings? Jesus said, Get in the boat and go. Maybe Jesus puts curses along the path of obedience?
Well, that’s not all that I said last week. I also said that Jesus becomes our chief blessing along the path of obedience. I said that mainly Jesus wants to become precious to us along the path of obedience. And Jesus is especially precious on dark and stormy nights.
When All Fear Is Gone
The story begins with the disciples fearful, but that’s not how it ends.
16 When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, 17 got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. 18 The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. 19 When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened.
I’ll pause here for a moment. Notice that, while the wind and waves were scary, they were not most the scary thing. We can often think of ancient people as primitive people who believed in fairy stories and didn’t know how the universe worked or the natural world. Maybe they didn’t know some of what we know, but I’d say the average ancient farmer and fisherman knows a lot more about the natural world than I’ll ever know. They were astute observers of nature. Their lives depended upon it. And here, what scares them is not merely the wind and waves but that there is a man walking on water! They know men don’t walk on water. And that makes them afraid. Let’s keep going.
20 But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” 21 Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.
We don’t know whether there was a second miracle, namely that they got to the other side supernaturally. Maybe John just words it this way because after ten hours of rowing and going nowhere, when Jesus got into their boat, and the wind stopped, it was as though they got there immediately. We cannot be sure.
But we can be sure they were glad to have Jesus in their boat. Again, we read, “Then they were glad to take him into the boat.” John wants to make sure we don’t miss this. The presence of the living Jesus makes his disciples glad—though not at first. Jesus has to tell them not to be afraid. The power of one who walks on water and suspends the laws of nature, the one who has the power to feed five thousand, the power to heal the sick, the power to forgive sins, the power to do all that and more, was not a power you just get comfy and cozy with. Unless that same power is good. Unless that same person, I should say, is good. And Jesus is good. And he says, “It is I; do not be afraid.” This statement was not for the crowds, the masses of people who barely knew him. This was a word—an experience of the living Jesus—just for the disciples. Can you hear his voice this morning? If you are his, he’s saying to you, “It is I; do not be afraid.”
That wording of “It is I” is a phrase that elsewhere in John gets translated more simply as “I am.” It’s an echo from the book of Exodus and the burning bush. In fact, there are many echoes of Exodus here in this passage of John 6: the manna and bread from heaven that we’ll read about next week, the Passover, Moses, a miracle with water, and so on. Lots of Exodus echoes here in John 6. And so when Jesus says don’t be afraid, it’s him. And he’s also saying, “Don’t be afraid, I am the great I AM.”
Church, this same Jesus will come again. On some future “dark and stormy night,” the Bible teaches that we won’t hear the rushing wind but blowing trumpets. Jesus won’t come walking on the water waves but riding on a white war horse across the sky. And when he comes to his storm-tossed church, his fatigued and fearful church, he will say, “It is I; do not be afraid.” And every knee will bow and every tongue confess that he is Lord. And the storm and the darkness and the sea will be no more, and to whatever glorious destination history and redemption were heading, we will arrive—immediately. No more sorrow, no more tears.
I’ll invite the music team forward so we can have a time of response through prayer. Let’s pray. “Dear Heavenly Father. . .”
Sermon DiscussionQuestions:
What storms are you experiencing?
Do you feel like some of the trouble you’re experiencing in this life is coming from your obedience to Jesus (like the disciples in this passage) or disobedience (like Jonah in the Old Testament)? Maybe it’s some of both. Regardless of how you got in the storm, in what ways might Jesus want to draw close and bring comfort?
Over your lifetime, how has Jesus become precious to you in the storms of life?
What gospel truths can you share with yourself and others that helps Christians to not be afraid? Try to list several truths about who God is and what he has done (and is doing and will do) for his people?
