KEEP YOUR EYES ON JESUS
A Catholic Homily on Matthew 14:22–33
Deacon Pat Kearns
There are moments in life when everything feels fine…
and then the wind changes.
A phone call.
A diagnosis.
A child tells you something you never expected to hear.
A marriage begins to struggle.
Someone you love dies.
You lose your job.
Your finances suddenly change.
Or sometimes there isn't one dramatic event at all.
You simply wake up one morning and realize:
I'm tired.
Tired of worrying.
Tired of carrying everyone else's problems.
Tired of pretending I'm okay.
Tired of wondering what is going to happen next.
And suddenly you realize that somewhere along the way…
you've entered a storm.
That's where we find the disciples in today's Gospel.
And I think what happens to them may tell us something important about what God is doing in the storms of our own lives.
Jesus tells the disciples to get into the boat and go ahead of Him.
Think about that for a moment.
They aren't in the storm because they disobeyed Jesus.
They're in the storm because they obeyed Him.
That's important.
Sometimes we unconsciously believe that if we're faithful enough, pray enough, go to Mass, try to live a good life and follow God…
then somehow nothing terrible should happen.
But Christianity never promises a storm-free life.
In fact, some of the greatest saints endured extraordinary storms.
The question isn't whether storms will come.
The question is:
Who is in the storm with us?
The disciples are far from shore.
The wind is against them.
The waves are pounding the boat.
It's dark.
And they've been fighting this storm for hours.
Then sometime during the night, they see something coming toward them across the water.
And they're terrified.
They think it's a ghost.
But then, through the wind, comes a voice:
“Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.”
I love those words.
Because notice what Jesus doesn't say.
He doesn't say:
“Don't worry. There isn't really a storm.”
There is a storm.
The waves are real.
The wind is real.
The danger is real.
Jesus doesn't deny reality.
Instead He says:
“Take courage… I am here.”
And there is an enormous difference between those two things.
Our Christian faith doesn't pretend suffering isn't real.
It tells us that suffering doesn't get the final word.
Then Peter does something remarkable.
He says:
“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”
And Jesus gives Peter one word:
“Come.”
That's it.
Come.
So Peter puts one foot over the side of the boat.
Imagine that moment.
He's a fisherman.
Peter understands water.
He knows people don't walk on it.
Every instinct must be telling him:
Stay in the boat.
The boat is familiar.
The boat feels safe.
But Jesus is outside the boat.
So Peter steps out.
And incredibly…
Peter walks on water.
For a few moments, an ordinary fisherman does the impossible.
Not because Peter suddenly possesses some extraordinary power.
Peter walks on water because his eyes are fixed on Jesus.
And then something happens.
Peter notices the wind.
Which is interesting.
The wind was already there.
The waves were already there.
The storm hadn't suddenly gotten worse.
What changed?
Peter's focus.
He stops looking at Jesus…
and starts looking at the storm.
And that's when he begins to sink.
WE DO THE SAME THING
Don't we?
We come to Mass.
We pray.
We tell God that we trust Him.
And then Monday morning comes.
The bills are still there.
The medical problem is still there.
The family problem is still there.
The loneliness is still there.
And suddenly we're looking at the waves again.
What if this happens?
What if that happens?
What if I lose my job?
What if my child never comes back to the Church?
What if the treatment doesn't work?
What if my marriage doesn't get better?
What if I don't have enough money?
What if…
What if…
What if…
And before long we're drowning in things that haven't even happened yet.
The storm hasn't changed.
Our focus has.
We stopped looking at Christ…
and started staring at the waves.
“LORD, SAVE ME!”
And then Peter gives us perhaps one of the greatest prayers in Scripture.
Three words:
“Lord, save me!”
That's the whole prayer.
No eloquent language.
No carefully prepared words.
No theological explanation.
Just:
Lord, save me!
And what does Jesus do?
Matthew tells us:
“Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him.”
Immediately.
I think someone here today needs to hear that.
Peter is sinking because his faith failed.
Peter took his eyes off Jesus.
Peter became afraid.
And Jesus still reached for him.
Jesus didn't stand there saying:
“Well, Peter, perhaps this will teach you a lesson.”
He didn't say:
“You should have had more faith.”
He didn't let Peter sink a little longer as punishment.
Jesus reached out His hand.
That's mercy.
That's the Gospel.
That's our Catholic faith.
When we fall…
Christ reaches.
When we sin…
Christ reaches.
When we become afraid…
Christ reaches.
When we doubt…
Christ reaches.
And even when we've made a complete mess of things…
Christ still reaches.
There may be someone sitting here today who feels like Peter.
You're still functioning.
You're still going to work.
You're still taking care of the family.
You're still coming to Mass.
People ask how you're doing and you say:
“I'm fine.”
But inside…
you're sinking.
Maybe no one else knows.
But Jesus does.
And perhaps today you don't need a complicated prayer.
Maybe Peter's prayer is enough:
“Lord, save me.”
Lord, save my marriage.
Lord, help my child.
Lord, help me with this illness.
Lord, help me forgive.
Lord, help me stop drinking.
Lord, help me overcome this addiction.
Lord, help me with my anger.
Lord, help me with my loneliness.
Lord, help me believe again.
Lord…
save me.
And then look for His hand.
Because sometimes the hand of Jesus looks different than we expect.
Sometimes Christ reaches through a spouse.
Sometimes through a friend.
Sometimes through a priest.
Sometimes through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
Sometimes through a counselor or doctor.
Sometimes through someone who simply sits beside us and listens.
And sometimes Christ reaches for us through the person sitting right beside us in the pew.
We are the Body of Christ.
Sometimes we are supposed to be His hand.
We often focus on Peter walking on the water.
But notice what happens afterward.
Jesus and Peter get into the boat.
The wind dies down.
And the disciples do something extraordinary.
They worship Jesus and say:
“Truly, you are the Son of God.”
The storm revealed something to them that calm water never could.
And perhaps that's one of the mysteries of suffering.
I would never tell someone that every terrible thing happens because “God has a reason.”
Sometimes terrible things happen because we live in a broken world.
Sometimes people make terrible choices.
Sometimes illness happens.
Sometimes tragedy happens.
And sometimes we simply don't know why.
But I do believe this:
There is no storm God cannot enter.
And there is no suffering that Christ cannot somehow redeem.
Sometimes the place where we thought God had abandoned us becomes the very place where we discover Him most deeply.
And in just a few moments, something beautiful is going to happen here.
We will come to the altar.
Bread and wine will be brought forward.
The priest will speak the words of Christ.
And what appears to be bread and wine will become for us the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ.
The same Jesus who walked across the water.
The same Jesus who said:
“Take courage.”
The same Jesus who told Peter:
“Come.”
The same Jesus who reached into the waves and pulled Peter up…
will come to us in the Eucharist.
Think about that when you approach Communion today.
Maybe you're walking toward the altar carrying a storm nobody else knows about.
Come anyway.
Maybe your faith isn't as strong as you wish it were.
Come.
Maybe you've been frightened.
Come.
Maybe you've spent the entire week staring at the waves.
Come.
Because the One waiting for you isn't disappointed that you need Him.
He is the One who told Peter:
“Come.”
I want to leave you with an image this week.
At some point over the next several days, something will probably worry you.
Maybe something small.
Maybe something significant.
And when it happens, I want you to picture Peter.
Don't picture him walking on water.
Picture him sinking.
Picture the waves.
Picture his fear.
Picture Peter reaching upward.
And then picture another hand entering the water.
The hand of Christ.
Grabbing him.
Holding him.
Pulling him back up.
And remember the words:
“Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him.”
Maybe your storm isn't going away today.
Maybe the wind won't stop this afternoon.
Maybe the situation you're praying about won't suddenly resolve itself.
But Jesus never promised Peter there wouldn't be waves.
He simply said:
“Come.”
So keep your eyes on Jesus.
And when you fail…
when you become frightened…
when you begin sinking…
pray the prayer Peter prayed:
“Lord, save me.”
And then reach up.
Because you may discover something extraordinary.
While you were desperately reaching for God…
God was already reaching for you.
Amen.
