With us in the chaos

Sermon by Pr. Michelle Sevig on the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost + Sunday, August 8, 2026

I love a good thunderstorm! Some of you may too… I kinda like watching the lightning sparkle in the sky and hearing the loud booms of the thunderclap.

Recently, a Facebook memory came up in my feed of a storm on our lake in Minnesota several years ago. We sat on the deck of our cabin and videoed the thunderstorm happening over the lake, shadowed by the nighttime sky. It was beautiful. And scary.

Storms are a great show as long as you’re safe, and your home is safe, and you and the people you love are safe. But often there is nothing beautiful about a great storm.

We know that especially well these days. Here in Illinois, we have experienced devastating storms, tornadoes, flooding, and powerful winds. We're only half way through 2026 and Illinois has already broken its record for the most tornadoes in a single year. Across our country and around the world, extreme weather is becoming more destructive as our climate changes.

And there are other kinds of storms, too: wildfires experienced in Canada and the Pacific Northwest, ongoing wars in several regions throughout the world, political division and economic uncertainty in the US, and all that many of us experience: loneliness, grief, stress and illness. Sometimes the storm is outside us. Sometimes the storm is inside us. And oftentimes it is both.

The disciples know something about storms too. They are out on the Sea of Galilee, in the darkness, far from shore, when the wind begins to batter their boat. The waves are against them. They cannot control what is happening. They are terrified. And then they see Jesus, but they don't recognize him. To make the story even scarier: they think he might be a ghost.

And Jesus says to them: “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” Notice what Jesus does not say. He does not shame them for being frightened. He does not tell them that faithful people never experience fear. Of course they are afraid! There is a raging storm and they are in genuine danger.

Faith does not mean pretending that the storm isn't real. Faith means discovering that we are not alone in it. That is an important distinction for us. Because there are storms in our lives that cannot be prayed away with enough optimism. There are storms that require action, community, courage, and sometimes systemic change.

When communities are threatened by climate disasters, we need more than individual reassurance. We need neighbors helping neighbors. We need public action. We need to listen to people whose homes and livelihoods are already being devastated by a changing climate.

We need a community to accompany us with our grief. We need agitators and allies who encourage us to be bold in the face of fear. We need friends and loved ones to hold us when we are ill, injured, or hurting. We need the people of God to be Christ’s hands, heart and love in the world when we are terrified in the midst of the storms that surround us.

Christian faith is not an escape from the world. It is recognizing God's presence within the world. The biblical writers understood storms and raging waters as symbols of chaos—forces beyond human control. The sea could represent the wildness that threatens God's good creation. So when Jesus walks across the water and enters that storm, Matthew is telling us something profound: God's presence is not limited to calm places.

God is with us in the chaos. God is with us when the boat is rocking and everything seems out of control. God is with us when we cannot see the shoreline and when the future is uncertain. God is with us when we are afraid and feel alone.

Today we also receive a helpful reminder from the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Romans: “The Word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart.” We sometimes think of God's Word as something we come here to hear. And it is. But Paul says the Word (capital W), God present in Jesus through the Holy Spirit, is already near. In your mouth. In your heart.

One of the bodily practices we do here at Holy Trinity is to cross ourselves in three places when we hear the word of God proclaimed through the gospel text. We trace the cross: on our forehead, on our lips, and over our heart. Christ be in my mind. Christ be on my lips. Christ be in my heart.

Christ is with you. It can be difficult to recognize the Holy One’s presence in the midst of the storm (the chaos) of life. So we gather here week after week to remind ourselves and each other that Christ is with us. Here we listen for Christ’s voice calling to us in love, “Take Heart, It is I,” I am with you. Here we can remember what fear has made us forget: The Word is near. Christ is near. God is near. And we don't have to discover that alone.

The Christian life is not about becoming fearless individuals. It is about becoming a community where nobody has to face the storms alone. Sometimes we are Peter, crying out, “Lord, save me!” Sometimes we are the ones reaching out a hand. Sometimes we are the ones sitting quietly beside someone whose grief has no words. Sometimes we are the ones who need someone else to remind us that Christ is here in the storminess of life.

Listen again to the words of Jesus, “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.” Take heart, you who are exhausted from trying to hold everything together. Take heart, you who are frightened by what is happening in our world and our country. Take heart, you who worry about the future of this beautiful and wounded planet. Take heart, you who are facing a diagnosis, an uncertain future, a broken relationship, or an empty chair at the table. Take heart, you who are wondering where God is.

The storm may be real. The fear may be real. The uncertainty may be real. But so is the presence of Christ. So is the community that carries us. So is the promise of God. “Take heart. It is I. I am with you. Do not be afraid.”