Written on August 1, 2008

[For the August 10, 2008 lectionary: Matthew 14:22-33]

30,000 FEET by Larry Patten

He became frightened.

I invite you to contemplate that first sentence. Hold the words at a distance, as if you were objectively curious. Bring the words closer, like a jeweler peering at a gemstone.

Personalize the phrase—I became frightened—and what is conjured? What in your life recalls, or is anxious over the arrival of, fear?

Though three Gospels (Matthew, Mark, John) include Jesus walking on water, only Matthew adds the disciple Peter speaking to Jesus in the “battered by waves” boat. In Matthew, Peter shouts . . . “If it’s you Jesus, command me to come to you.”

Jesus did.

Soon, however, Peter became frightened. And then . . .

Wait. Let’s retreat a verse to where Peter’s right foot stretched over the gunwales. His eyes, narrowed in concentration, are focused on Jesus. The other disciples—again relegated to just being “the other disciples”—reveal a mix of reactions to Peter’s decision: from envy to trepidation.

Now let’s temporarily leave this liquid moment and settle into an airplane’s seat at 30,000 feet. Last week, returning from Seattle on the two-hour flight to Fresno, I dozed.

Sometimes I doze with no preparation. I’m tired or bored, or my book no longer interests me, and I drift toward slumberland. But this was a time I planned to doze. So I tucked the book away and placed my glasses in my shirt pocket. I adjusted my body to pretend I could find a comfortable position in the cramped airline seat. And then I dozed.

Upon waking, I removed glasses from pocket and lost my grip on them. Like an anchor without a chain, they dropped away. But where? Without glasses my world is a blur, a nearsighted smear of colors. Were they on the seat between my legs? No. Caught in a fold of my rumpled shirt? No. Did they leap back into the pocket? No. I strained against the seatbelt, groping along the floor with my hand. Nothing. I released the belt and used my book to sweep the carpet, to “snowplow” the glasses from the side or front or back to bring them within reach.

I. Could. Not. Find. Them.

Within seconds, I went from calm to panic. My body tensed, my breathing accelerated. My nerve endings tingled.

What are you afraid of?

Flying itself guarantees fear for some. How about small, enclosed spaces? Or snakes? Snakes on a plane?

Many fear public speaking. In fact, I’m convinced some people, as they depart church and give a big, juicy compliment about the sermon, weren’t truly inspired. The simple fact the preacher spoke in front of twenty or two thousand seemed a stunning achievement. To a person who dreads public speaking, preachers are little less than gods.

According to one website I glanced at . . .

A recent Gallup poll found that 40% of adults have a fear of public speaking. Comedian Jerry Seinfeld once observed that at a funeral, most people would rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy!”

What of my fears? As my search became desperate, one was obvious. Without seeing, I am not in control.

During the flight I hadn’t said one word to the passenger in the seat next to me. Now, I muttered, “Can’t find my glasses. Dropped to the floor.” She (an elderly woman with glasses by the way) immediately volunteered to stand in the aisle so that I could expand my search.

Butt in the air, my shoulders squished between seats, I found them. With the side temples neatly folded, they were under the metal bumper used for storing luggage on the floor. Every time I swept the floor with hand, foot, or book, I’d struck that metal frame and searched elsewhere.

Back to soon-to-sink Peter. He became frightened. Matthew said it was after he “noticed the strong wind.”

Jesus seemingly misinterpreted Peter’s crisis. He asked, “Why did you doubt?”

DOUBT! Peter wasn’t doubtful, he was afraid! Frozen. Stunned. Scared out of his Birkenstocks. The wind was strong. Liquid ain’t cobblestones. Are you kidding, Jesus? Doubt?

And yet wasn’t it?

Fear = Doubt. One fear for me is not seeing. I know that’s more than living with 20/400 vision. When I am not in control, I doubt myself. And you. And God.

Fear and doubt are forever faith’s companions. They remind us of our limits, our foolishness. And, ironically, they are the fertile soil—or even the “battered by waves” water—where our faith may grow and deepen. Fear and doubt put their sweaty palms on me before I asked my wife to marry me. Fear and doubt cavort within my soul before I place the first word for a story on the blank computer screen. Fear and doubt play ping-pong in my stomach before I ask another for forgiveness.

I am thankful for that woman at 30,000 feet who said she would move to the aisle. Try another way. Keep at it.

Jesus didn’t misinterpret Peter’s panic.

in Peace,

Larry