Fr David King – Sermon Notes 9th August 2026

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

There are moments in life when it feels as though we are rowing against the wind.

The disciples knew that feeling. Jesus had sent them ahead by boat while he went up the mountain alone to pray. At first, it probably seemed like a straightforward journey. But as the night wore on, the wind strengthened, the waves rose, and they found themselves making little progress. Tired, wet, and exhausted, they must have wondered whether they would ever reach the other side.

It is a picture many of us recognise. Sometimes life seems like steady progress, and then suddenly we encounter headwinds: illness, anxiety, disappointment, bereavement, strained relationships, or simply the weariness of carrying on day after day. 

The disciples are in exactly that place when, in the darkness before dawn, they see something—or rather someone-walking towards them on the sea.

Instead of relief, they experience terror.

"It's a ghost!"

Fear has a remarkable ability to distort reality. It makes us imagine the worst. It convinces us that help is danger and that hope is an illusion.

Then comes the voice that changes everything.

"Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."

There is a little phrase there—"It is I"-that always makes me smile.

Those of a certain generation may remember the sitcom 'Allo 'Allo!, where Monsieur Leclerc (wearing another of his terrible disguises) would announce himself whilst lifting his glasses with the unforgettable line, "It is I, Lecler!" Every time I hear Jesus say, "It is l," a tiny part of my mind drifts back to that comedy. Of course, the similarity ends there. In 'Allo 'Allo! mistaken identities created confusion. In the Gospel, Jesus' words remove confusion. His "It is I is not merely identifying himself-it is revealing who he truly is.

In fact, the Greek expression Jesus uses echoes the divine name:

"I AM." This is more than saying, "It's me." It is a declaration of God's presence. The One walking across the storm is none other than the Lord himself.

The storm has not stopped.

The wind is still blowing.

The waves are still crashing.

But everything has changed because Jesus is there.

How often we pray for God to remove every difficulty, when sometimes his first gift is not to calm the storm but to come into it with us.

Peter, impulsive as ever, responds in the only way Peter knows how.

"Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water."

And Jesus simply says,

"Come."

For a few astonishing moments Peter does exactly what should be impossible. His eyes are fixed on Christ, and he walks where no human being should be able to walk.

Then Matthew tells us,

"But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened.."

Peter stops looking at Jesus and starts looking at the storm.

Isn't that so often our story?

Faith flourishes when our eyes are fixed on Christ.

Fear flourishes when our eyes are fixed only on our circumstances.

The waves hadn't changed. The wind hadn't grown stronger. What had changed was Peter's focus.

As soon as fear replaces trust, he begins to sink.

But perhaps the most comforting part of the story is that Peter's faith does not have to be perfect.

His prayer is wonderfully brief.

"Lord, save me!"

Three words.

No carefully crafted liturgy. 

No theological precision.

Just an honest cry from a drowning man.

And immediately-Matthew loves that word-immediately Jesus reaches out his hand.

Not after Peter has learnt his lesson.

Not after Peter has apologised.

Immediately.

That is the grace of God.

Our salvation depends not on the strength of our grip on Christ, but on the strength of Christ's grip on us.

That brings us naturally to St Paul's words in Romans.

Paul reminds us that salvation is astonishingly close.

"The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart."

We sometimes imagine that finding God requires extraordinary effort-that somehow, we must climb up into heaven or descend into the depths.

Paul says no.

God has already come near in Christ.

The Gospel is not about our climbing to God; it is about God coming down to us.

As Paul says,

"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved."

Notice that word: everyone.

Not the especially holy.

Not those who never doubt.

Not those whose faith never falters.

Everyone.

That includes disciples who panic in storms.

It includes Peters who sink.

It includes people like us.

Paul then asks a series of searching questions:

"How are they to call on one in whom they have not believed?... And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard?... And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?"

The Church exists to keep telling the story.

Not because we have all the answers.

Not because we never struggle.

But because we have met the One who says into every fearful heart,

"Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid."

Every Christian is called, in one way or another, to bear witness to that voice.

Sometimes with sermons.

Sometimes with conversations.

Sometimes with quiet acts of kindness.

Sometimes simply by the peace we display in difficult circumstances.

People are often less interested in hearing that Christianity explains every storm than in seeing Christians who have discovered they are not alone in the storm.

The disciples finally reach the other side, but before they do something remarkable happens.

They worship Jesus.

"Truly you are the Son of God."

The storm has become a place of revelation.

It often happens that way.

We rarely choose the difficult chapters of life, but many Christians can testify that it was precisely there, in the darkness and uncertainty. that the discovered Christ most clearly.

Not because suffering is good.

But because Christ is faithful.

Perhaps today you feel as though you are rowing against the wind.

Perhaps you feel like Peter, beginning to sink.

Or perhaps you simply need reminding that Christ has not

abandoned the boat.

Then hear again those wonderful words:

"Take heart."

"It is I."

"Do not be afraid."

And when your faith seems small, remember that even a faltering prayer一 "Lord, save me." —is enough, because the hand of Christ is always quicker and stronger than the waves.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.