So why does Peter walk and then sink? Matthew tells us that Peter became afraid of the strong wind, and that tripped him up, but when they get back to the boat, Jesus asks Peter, "Why did you doubt?" Peter sinks because Peter doubts. And the more I thought about Peter's doubt, the more it seemed as if this story might have some clues for helping us understand for ourselves, "What makes us doubt?"

Just as Peter obeyed and got out of the boat when Jesus said, "Come," you and I have already taken the first steps to say "Yes!" to God. We take them every day. Something in our experience has brought us here this morning, has affected the way we see the world, something in our bones motivates us to try our best to serve and love and learn about God. But, like Peter, sometimes after we get going, we begin to doubt.

Put yourself in Peter's awesome and precarious position, stepping out onto the water. I can think of lots of reasons that would cause me to doubt in that situation. The first is, as Matthew suggests, just plain fear. There's a gale force wind, waves higher than my head, and it seems there's nothing holding me up as I'm walking. There's a big difference between imagining being there, and actually being there. The promises of God-bread for each day, strength to endure, the power to love: it's hard to concentrate on them, let alone rely on them with rock solid confidence, on all the ordinary days that are filled to overflowing with tangible terrors like mean people and car accidents and fistfights and hurricanes and aching or ailing bodies. If you stop and consider, the sheer volume of things to be afraid of in life can be overpowering. It's a storm out there! Is it any wonder we doubt the invisible power of grace?

Even if I was walking on water, and wasn't afraid of my immediate surroundings, though, there might be another source for my doubt. You have to think that if you were walking on water, you might say to yourself something like, "I can't believe I'm doing this!" or "This can't be happening!" or "I'll never make it!" When I was a kid I had a unicycle which I struggled to learn how to ride. When I practiced, after falling a dozen times, often I'd begin to mutter, "I can't do this!" or "I'm going to fall down again!" And, not surprisingly, my predictions always came true. Such is the nature of the self-fulfilling prophecy. What we tell ourselves again and again often seems to come true, as if in some subtle way, we set ourselves up for failure, even as we try to succeed. If you're convinced you're going to forget your lines, you most certainly will.

The late historian David Halberstam wrote a terrific book on the 1950s, a time when Richard Nixon was becoming more prominent on the national political scene. And it seems that, from the beginning, Nixon didn't do much to help himself. Halberstam wrote, "In those early campaigns he was, it seems, a man who needed an enemy and who seemed almost to feel that he functioned best when the world was against him. Such men, almost surely, eventually do get the enemies they so desperately want."

What we tell ourselves we begin to see and feel and live. Part of our doubt in God comes about because, in our anxiety, we begin to tell ourselves that God probably won't or can't come through, that the promises are just too far-fetched for our unique situation. "My prayers are never answered." "I don't know how God could possibly forgive me for this." "I wish I had strong faith like so-and-so, but I just don't." From time to time we all whisper such things to ourselves. That's why cynicism is so dangerous. It gets us rolling on a kind of hopelessness that ends up encouraging the very outcomes we fear the most. So maybe as he walked on the water Peter said, "This is impossible" one time to many, and that's exactly what it became for him.

And lastly, it seems quite possible that Peter was so amazed to see Jesus that when he climbed over the gunwale, he wasn't thinking at all about Peter, he was fully focused on Jesus. But after a few steps, Peter becomes self-conscious and looks away. Maybe he said to himself what I'm sure I would have: "Gee, I'm walking on water, aren't I something!" Or perhaps he wanted to make sure all his friends still in the boat saw what he was doing. In any case, Peter may also have sunk because his attention turns from the source of his strength to himself.

From the beginning, that's the way it has been: we human beings have an unceasing capacity to be self-absorbed. Adam and Eve eat the apple in the Garden and all of a sudden are consumed with awareness of their own nakedness, so much so that they try to hide from God! The Preacher in the Book of Ecclesiastes goes on and on about the vanity of the human race. And with good reason. How much daily energy goes into image and appearance? One way or another, we're all asking "How do I look?" "Do other people like me?" "Was anybody watching?" "Look at me, I'm a success!" It's hard not to. But as Christians we're asked to hold that natural impulse somewhat in check, in order to put God's vision, God plan before our own. Like Peter, sometimes our doubts come about because we're simply distracted by the most interesting person we know: ourselves.

Peter sinking into the Sea of Galilee is a memorable image, but it's also very revealing. Did he doubt because he feared for his life? Did he doubt because he told himself it couldn't be happening? Did he doubt because he stopped concentrating on God and began concentrating on himself? Who can say? But Peter did doubt, as probably any of us would have. And perhaps for Peter it was a little of all three, because that's what happens when creatures like you and me try to put our faith in something as miraculous and, when you get down to it, as unbelievable as the love and power of God.

But Jesus tells the frightened disciples what you and I need to hear: "Take heart," he says, and Matthew's story, in the end, becomes more about hope that doubt can be overcome than merely a vivid image of the ways doubt can sink us.

First of all, Matthew's story reminds us that people of faith, and not just atheists and cynics, do have moments of skepticism, mistrust, suspicion, and unbelief. We're talking about the 12 disciples, the ones who knew Jesus in the flesh, who had the kind of face time with Jesus we can only dream of. And that says quite clearly that doubt is not sinful, it's human. It's not something we want to encourage, but we don't have to deny those feelings or berate ourselves for not being like others who appear much more solid in their beliefs. God asks us to live in the world, but to trust in a power beyond the world. God knows that's not an easy task. And so the best reason for hope is shown by what happens in the story: doubt does not keep Jesus from coming to save Peter. "Lord, save me!" he cries. And Matthew tells us, "Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him." Immediately.

Doubt is not, is never the last word. God always has an answer, a response. God always moves again. If we have a dozen moments of incredulity or unbelief this week, or even by sunset tonight, God will respond not by giving up on us, but by offering two dozen invitations, two dozen signs and opportunities to be reassured, to exercise our faith again. For our part, we have to be willing to look and listen and ask, even when our skeptical selves urge us to give up and give in to doubt.

Faith steps out and sometimes begins to sink. But take heart. This wonderful story also says just as clearly that human doubt cannot undo God's faithfulness. The next time you catch yourself wondering if any of God's power is real, if any of God's promises are true, think of Peter and his moments in the waves, and say what he said: "Lord, save me!" And the hand to help will always reach out to save you once more.