But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.”
A friend of mine named John told this story in one of the seminary classes we had together, and I use it with his permission.
John had almost completed his first year of teaching high school history. A very long week ended with an even longer day, and John could hardly wait to be done with this particular week.
He headed home.
The summer afternoon was hot and humid. Storm clouds billowed high in the late afternoon sky. John got to his apartment and slid the patio door open. The frogs sang in the pond nearby. John headed to the refrigerator for a beer. He collapsed onto the sofa and turned on the TV. Tornado warnings scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Commercials, the evening news.
Suddenly, John realized that the frogs were silent. No birds singing. What’s going on here? John wandered. The silence was oppressive. The air grew heavy and still.
Suddenly, John was filled with a fear he had never known before, a primordial fear. Every nerve in his body screamed out, RUN! As if in a dream, he got up and ran to the patio door. The approaching wind bore down, a tremendous pressure pushing against him. A sofa shot through the air, and then other pieces of furniture flew past. Like a trapped animal, John ran to the front door. The wind shuffled cars around the parking lot like pick up sticks. John was filled with a terrible powerful fear that he had never known in his life. He rushed away from the door, went to the center of his apartment and stood in the doorway to the kitchen. His prayer of desperation poured out as he called out to God.
John’s life flashed before his eyes in an instant. And then as if he had heard a voice say, “It is I, be not afraid,” John felt a cocoon of warmth, love and light wrap itself around him.
And at that moment, John knew that no matter what happened– whether he lived, or whether he died– that he was the Lord’s, that even if this wind were to carry him to the other side of his life, into death, that he was wrapped in God. He could feel the presence of Jesus with him.
A great calm, a perpetual peace, a silent and sustaining love had replaced the fear. The wind did not stop. The circumstances did not change.
But John was changed, from a helpless and terrified human being into a shining light that would not be put out even if he died.
In this moment, John experienced for himself what Paul prayed for in the letter to the Ephesians that we have heard read this morning. In this moment, John had the power to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth of God’s love. He knew more deeply the love of Christ that still surpassed his full knowledge. He was filled with the fullness of God.
Throughout human history, people of all races, nations, and religions have found their fear swept away by the power of God, who created every family in heaven and on earth.
And we modern day Christians believe that we are strengthened in our inner beings, even when our physical bodies might be in great danger, by power through the Holy Spirit,
And also, that in faith, Christ dwells in our hearts.
And so, when we find ourselves terrified and in danger, we call out to God.
But what about the mundane, everyday moments of our lives? The time we spend going about our daily life and work? Does God speak to us through the minutes and hours of our days?
God is always speaking to us, even if God’s voice is sometimes a whisper—“It is I.”
And the more we listen for that voice throughout our days, the greater our chance of hearing God speaking to us when the going gets rough.
The letter to the Ephesians reminds us of the supreme importance of gathering as a community—we gain the power to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth of God’s love along with all the saints–
because God speaks to each one of us individually in the greater context of his love for us as part of this particular family on earth, this family made up of our Christian brothers and sisters. Knowing the story of this particular family, knowing how God has spoken creation into being, called Israel to be his people, how God spoke and the Word became flesh and blood, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who dwelt among us, full of grace and truth, knowing our story as the people of God helps us to hear when God comes to us and says, “It is I.”
And knowing our story as a people helps us discern that the voice we are hearing is actually the voice of God.
God also speaks to us when we gather around the altar.
Paul prays that the Ephesians may be filled with the fullness of God.
We come, week after week, to God’s table and we take Jesus into ourselves, — as Jesus says so graphically a little later in the gospel according to John–we eat his very flesh and drink his very blood
And as we feast, we are literally becoming what we eat—we are becoming full of God—we are being filled with the fullness of God.
And our hearing becomes more acute—full of God, we are more capable of hearing God’s voice calling out to us.
Hearing God’s voice then gives us a voice, makes us more able to speak, as an old hymn puts it, “In living echoes of God’s tone,” so that we can share God’s love with those who hear our voices.
And being full of God and hearing God’s voice leads us to pray for one another, to pray that we will all come to know, even in the worst times in our lives, what is the breadth and length and height and depth of the love of Christ for each and every one of us, and for us all as God’s body here on earth, the church.
When we know God’s love, we find the power within us to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, both individually and as the church, for God’s glory.
Gathering together, worshipping together, eating together, praying together, we find that we are listening for God’s voice—“It is I,”—calling out to us, leading us, singing peace and comfort and joy into our journeys even when we find ourselves crawling through barren deserts or walking through the valley of the shadow of death.
John did not die the day that the tornado struck.
In a daze, realizing that he was still alive, John walked outside after the tornado tore past. The apartment next to his was gone. He stared in amazement at the figurines that were untouched on a shelf still attached to the remaining wall. And then a great awe, and a great fear filled him. What was this power that had wrapped him with light and had spoken to him with such love?
His prayer of desperation had opened him to a power that was beyond imagining, a power that had carried him to the other side of his fear forever.
The center of calm, the certainty that God is with him on his journey whether he lives or whether he dies, is still with John, even now, several years later.
The disciples got into the boat and started across the sea in the dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. And the sea became rough, and they were terrified—until they heard that familiar voice—
“It is I; do not be afraid.”
And they took him into the boat with great joy, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.”
Amen