John 6:16-24 · Jesus Walks on the Water
I Knew You’d Come
John 6:16-24
Sermon
by Richard Hoefler
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When the unsinkable Titanic struck an iceberg and sank, one reporter wrote, "The tragedy of man is that he cannot build a boat to match his boasts." In many ways we have been able to conquer the sea. When it loomed up as a barrier to our progress across the earth we built boats to sail on it, created atomic submarines to travel through it, and designed jets to fly over it. What’s more, we can even swim in it. But we cannot become master of it.

The story which forms the miracle we consider now is about a man who did master the sea - in fact he walked on it. And that defies all that we have learned or experienced concerning the sea.

The nature miracles we have so far considered have suggested several possibilities for logical explanations. For the timid or the logically minded, speculations have been put forth to show how the miracle might have happened without upsetting the natural laws of the universe. The great catch of fish - a matter of timing. The wine at the wedding - a gift from Jesus hidden until the last moment for a surprise. The multiplied bread - the opening of the consciences of those hording their picnic baskets for themselves. The stilling of the storm - again a matter of timing. Here, however, we are faced with a miracle that now defies a solid, logical explanation. Jesus walks on water. And this naked fact causes concern for the logical and liberal minded of the apologists. Their attitude is that only a fool would believe such a story, and only a fool would try to do such a thing as walk on water. As Herod in the rock musical "Jesus Christ Superstar" mocks Jesus, "Come show us you’re no fool, walk across my swimming pool."

Mackinnon, pointing out the exhaustion of the disciples, dismisses the event as an optical illusion. Klausner calls the event a vision, a hallucination, such as we might expect from simple Oriental fishermen.

One sermon writer attempts to suggest a solution with an illustration about a preacher who was strolling along a river bank and saw one of his parishioners on the other side. Without a moment’s hesitation he proceeded to walk across the water of the river and greet his stunned member. "Parson," the man stammered, "tell me, how in the world did you do that?" To which the preacher answered, "Well, my dear friend, it requires two things: first, a great deal of faith, and secondly, knowing where the submerged rocks are." This is topped only by another interpreter who suggested that Jesus floated out to meet his disciples on a large beam which the disciples could not see, so they thought a miracle was happening. All such explanations which have attempted to get around this miracle are equally ludicrous. Each of the Gospel writers who records this miracle makes it very clear that "Jesus came to them walking on the water." So when faced with this miracle there are only two options: accept it in faith and attempt to hear the lesson it teaches, or reject it and move on to a more believable text. We choose to accept the first option and, learning the great lesson it has to teach, are not embarrassed for having accepted it as miracle; rather, we are grateful.

Exegetical Problems

Bultmann believes this story to be a variant of the account of Jesus stilling the storm. Van der Loos, however, points out an important difference in that "not merely the ‘words,’ but the whole person of Jesus himself is involved: Jesus walks across the water."1

Then there is the problem of the difference in the accounts of this story by the various Gospel writers. They all agree that it happened immediately after the miraculous feeding. But each has a different landing place. Matthew simply says, "... unto the other side." Mark says, "... unto Bethsaida," and John establishes "Capernaum" as their destination. More important than the exact destination, however, is the intent of Jesus. Why did Jesus walk on the water?

Did Jesus intend for the disciples to sail across the lake, and then he would surprise them by meeting them on the other side? This would mean that his miraculous journey across the sea was not intended for human eyes; but the disciples caught him by surprise. This is implied by Mark who says, "He (Jesus) was going to pass them by, but they saw him walking on the water."

Some scholars suggest that Jesus wanted the disciples to see him walking across the sea to demonstrate his authority and power over nature. It was only when they called to him that he went to their aid.

None of these explanations of Jesus’ intent can be called satisfactory because all the Gospel accounts when taken in their entirety point to the fact that Jesus walked on the sea in his effort to rescue the disciples. Mark states that when "He saw that the disciples were having trouble ... He came to them." This means that Jesus’ reason for walking on the sea was to save the disciples, and not simply to get to the other side of the lake or to demonstrate his authority and power over the sea. God does not do the miraculous to amaze us, but to save us. God’s first concern is not to perform acts of wonder that he might be glorified, but that we might be saved.

God knows that such actions which are contrary to our view of the universe are stumbling blocks to the reasoning, scientifically-thinking person. But that doesn’t stop God. He will stop at nothing, If a miracle is the only way to save us - then a miracle it is. The fact that it is difficult or even impossible for us to understand how he does it, or even believe he did it, is beside the point. He doesn’t do it to present a problem for us to solve. He does it to save us - and that is our only hope.

A Pool in My Savior’s Hand

Of the three accounts of this story in our Gospels, John has the shortest - only four verses (6:16-20). Here the bare facts are presented. It is night. The disciples are in a boat. Jesus comes to them walking on the water. They are terrified. Jesus says to them, "Don’t be afraid. It is I." They take him into the boat and they reach land at the place they were headed for. It is such a brief account that it almost seems casual. Jesus walks on water - but then doesn’t everybody?

In fact, some scholars such as Harvey point out that Matthew and Mark leave the reader no doubt that Jesus miraculously walked across the water. In John, however, the details are not so clear:

"Jesus could have been in shallow water near the edge of the lake."2 However, Harvey goes on to point out that the setting of the text suggests the writer believed he was describing a supernatural event.

Alan Richardson finds here the teaching that Christ is Lord of the seas. "This event is used to illustrate the unity of Christ with the God of the Old Testament who controls the deep - storm - wind and waves."3

Van der Loos puts this position very well:

Yahweh is the creator of seas and rivers; He guides them and subdues them, He is their Lord! This is proclaimed and presented to the people of Israel again and again; it plays a central role in the proclamation of the Old Testament in illustrating Yahweh's majesty. Jesus’ wonderful appearance on the Sea of Galilee must be read and ‘understood’ in the light of, or rather starting from, the absolute and mighty nature of this proclamation. Understood as a reality and as a sign that the living God ‘has come’ in the revelation of the Son.4

Barth states that in Israel’s thought water represents the forces of evil that are opposed to the salvation intended for Israel. When Jesus walks on the water he is saying, "Fear not the forces that attempt to rob you of salvation. I am greater than they are."5

These approaches to the miracle can be summarized by the account of Gorch Fock, a sailor in World War I, who wrote home to his mother:

If you should hear that I have fallen in a naval battle do not cry. Remember that even the ocean in which my body sinks is only a pool in my Savior’s hand.

Hardened Hearts

Mark’s version of the story is somewhat longer - seven verses (6:45-52). His concern is suggested in the last thing he says. He relates this experience with the multiplication of the bread and points out the confusion of the disciples because "their hearts were hardened."

This is further supported by the fact that he places this account of Jesus’ walking on the water just before he presents the controversy with the Pharisees and teachers of the law who fail to understand Jesus because of "the hardness of their hearts."

This phrase - "hardness of the heart" - is a common biblical means of describing the stubborn refusal of people to hear and respond to God. The Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and he would not let the children of Israel go free (Exodus 7:13, 8:32, 9:7). It was the hardness of the Children of Israel’s hearts that made them reject the Word of God and his prophets (Isaiah 6:10). It was the hardened hearts of the Pharisees which led them to reject Christ and eventually arrange for his execution. So when Mark says, "They had not understood what the miracle of the loaves of bread meant; for their hearts were hardened," he is pointing out that many times we fail to comprehend God because something within us prohibits God from coming to us.

When I am watching television and the picture acts up, starts to roll or fills the screen with snow, my reaction is, "Is the station having trouble or is it my set?" Because in all communication, both transmitter and receiver must be working properly. God speaks but often we don’t get the message because our receivers are not working properly and need repair. So here, Jesus was not coming across to the disciples, but it was not his fault; it was theirs. Their hearts were hardened.

Now, when we examine the details of the story, clues are given as to why their hearts were hardened.

First, the disciples were disappointed. They had just attended a picnic that had been a phenomenal success. Their Lord had fed the multitudes with miraculous bread. He was at the height of his popularity. The people were so impressed they were ready to make him king. The disciples were understandably excited and elated. How long they had suffered the insults and abuses of foolishly following this itinerate preacher from Galilee; and now the tables were turned. Their unknown master was being nominated by the king-makers for the highest office in the land. And when he ascended his throne, they speculated their positions would be at the very least that of princes. But he refused. He sent the people away and went into the hills to pray. This was a stinging blow to the disciples. It seemed that everything they had been working for suddenly went down the drain, all because their leader refused to seize his golden opportunity and make the best of it. Naturally they were disappointed - bitterly disappointed. And disappointment is the prime ingredient of the hardened heart. Like the sudden drop of the temperature to the freezing point, their hot excitement at being princes cooled down and froze their hearts.

How many people have frozen hearts toward God because he disappointed them. One day they prayed and God didn’t hear - or hearing, he didn’t answer, which is twice as bad. This was God’s chance to be number one in their lives and he ignored it.

Second, the disciples were lonely and that, too, creates a hardened heart. Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and sent them across the lake by themselves. Loneliness is a deadly state, particularly for disappointed men. The feeling that God has forsaken his world and has left us to fend for ourselves, will drive people not only to despair, but to a complete denial of God.

On one of Nelson’s sea campaigns a captain wrote in his log, "Most of the crew is sick. We have almost no food and little water, but we do not lose heart because we are with Nelson." Courage is an easy thing even for a child when someone we trust and admire is close at hand; but when we are alone the same situation which can produce heroic courage because of companionship now produces only stark terror. So the disciples were experiencing not only disappointment, but loneliness.

The third thing is that evening had come and darkness was descending upon the disciples. Darkness makes so much difference. A forest, an unfamiliar street, an empty house, can be interesting places to explore, except in the dark. Even our own room can become a place of terrifying imaginings in the dark. We hear a strange noise and we reach immediately to turn on the light to see what is happening. So the disciples were not only disappointed and lonely; they were in the dark. And all of this contributed to the hardening process of their hearts.

To make matters worse, the disciples were facing overwhelming odds. Their little boat was far out in the lake; a sudden storm had arisen. Wind beat against their bodies, waves tossed their boat about. They bent their backs to the oars and paused only to bail the threatening water from the bottom of their boat. Frustrated and exhausted, but still afloat, they welcomed the first faint light of dawn. But in this eerie half-light of morning, they saw a figure floating on the surface of the water. Now they really were terrified. "It’s a ghost!" they screamed in fear. The battle with the storm had not only hardened the muscles of their backs and arms, but their hearts as well. So that when their familiar friend came to them, their hearts were so hardened that they failed to recognize their Lord and called him "A ghost!"

How true this is of our lives - disappointment, loneliness, darkness, and overwhelming odds harden our hearts and blind our eyes to God’s presence in our world. Doubts and fears take over. Our world becomes a terrifying place haunted only by phantoms which threaten to destroy us.

Our story, however, offers hope. For Christ breaks the hardness of the disciples’ hearts with the words, "Courage, it is I. Be not afraid." It is the word and the word alone that possesses the power to break through all the barriers circumstances erect to harden us. That is why we continue to build churches, call pastors and expand educational programs - that the word of God may be made vocal and alive in our time. Our faith is a forensic faith. It is a faith born in a word spoken and sustained by a word continually proclaimed. Faith is born when the shell of our hardened hearts is cracked open, broken away by a word spoken by the speaking God.

Therefore, when you are disappointed, and lonely, surrounded by darkness, overwhelmed by the odds, turn to the word of God, for it possesses the hope that can rise above disappointments, the love to cure our loneliness, the light to dispel darkness, the truth to destroy phantoms and the power to produce courage and faith.

Now follows one of the most dramatic events in all the New Testament: Peter, the man of little faith, discovers he has a big Lord.

The Rock Walks on Water

Matthew tells us that Peter then spoke up, "Lord, if it is really you, order me to come out on the water to you." How typical of Peter - impulsive, reckless, excitable man that he was. When Peter saw Christ walking on the water, Peter the Rock went overboard - literally. His excitement got the better of him and he cried out, "Lord, let me do it, too!"

Now Jesus knew the Big Fisherman and he knew that Peter couldn’t do it. But he let him try, because Jesus also knew Peter was the type of person who has to find out the hard way - by experience and failure. Peter was a man of daring and he had to learn faith by taking risks.

For some this is the only way, They have to find out their own limitations by trying and failing. You can tell them that the stove is hot, but they simply have to touch it to find out for themselves. It isn’t that they are stupid, or don’t believe the sincerity of the warning; it’s just that their nature demands they experience for themselves the lessons of life. It’s the only way they learn.

So Peter stepped out of the boat. To the amazement of all, he started to walk on the water. Then he noticed the wind. He was afraid and started to sink. "Save me, Lord!" he cried out. And at once Jesus reached out and grabbed him. What a parable this is of the frailty of human faith. So many of us view faith exclusively from its human side. We interpret it as determination. Where you set your jaw and double up your fists and say, "I can do it." Now this is an admirable virtue in many areas of life, but in the realm of faith, it is appallingly inadequate. This view of faith is frequently promoted by the "Imitation of Christ" theology. Our Lord is presented as the perfect example that we should resolutely strive to follow. We are encouraged to take scissors of determination and human initiative and cut our lives into the patterned shape of Christ’s perfection. If we just have strong enough faith and iron-bound determination we can do anything - even the impossible. We can move mountains, for after all, is that not what our Lord himself promised us? But we forget that the faith he was talking about was a divine gift from God and not the product of human effort.

Faith - the kind of faith that moves mountains - is realized not when we put forth Herculean human effort, but it is given to us when we reach the point of total exhaustion and can do absolutely nothing for ourselves. Luther never missed an opportunity to stress the fact that God cannot fill us with his grace and power until we have emptied ourselves and trust totally in God. Faith begins when we, like Peter, feel our feet sinking down into the treacherous waters and cry out, "Lord, save me." Faith begins at that moment when we give up and God takes over.

Pastor Ralph Wallace6 tells of a woman working in the cotton mills of North Carolina. Above the looms was a sign, "If the thread tangles call the foreman." The threads of her loom began to tangle, but all she could think of was solving the problem herself and getting back to work as soon as possible. She was working piece-work and time was money. The more she tried to untangle the threads the more they became entwined in the loom. Finally in desperation she called the foreman. "What a mess!" he yelled. "I tried to do my best," she answered defensively. "That’s not so," the foreman came back, "the best you can do is call on me."

So in our relationship to God. Our best - the best we can do in any situation is to call on God. No human effort ever reaches its best until we give up, acknowledge our total helplessness and cry out in desperation, "Lord, help me!" This is the true litany of faith. Not, "I am the captain of my fate!" but, "Lord, help me!"

Peter learned that day the meaning of faith. He stands as an example for us all. Therefore, Peter’s desperate cry for help should be our pattern rather than Christ’s perfection. When God first created us, we read that he made us in his image. But a lot has happened since then. We have fallen, we are a broken people. There is nothing within us that even suggests we can strive after the image or the likeness of Christ. Like Humpty-Dumpty, all the king’s men and all the king’s horses cannot put us back together again. Our only hope is outside ourselves. Our only hope is a lonely cross on a hill where a young man died - a tomb standing empty in a garden - the flames of the spirit descending from above; this story - his story - is our only hope. The Gospel does not proclaim that we are to do something, but believe a word that something has been done for us. The life of Christ - his perfect life of obedience to the Father’s will - can only condemn us. It is the death of Christ and not his life that redeems us. We are saved not by the incarnation but by the crucifixion and resurrection.

We are made new by the gifts of grace which flood into our lives and give us what we do not and cannot possess in and of ourselves. This is what Luther calls "foreign righteousness" - not our own but Christ’s strength given to us.

We can never hope to become like Christ until we first become like Peter! The ground beneath us slips away and we sink helplessly into a bottomless existence. And in our distress we cry out, "Lord, save me!" Our best is when we call on God.

A Fool for Christ

Now not only is Peter an excellent example of how true faith begins; he is also an example of the risk element so necessary to produce corporate faith.

Most of us are too timid in our relationship to God. We demand comfortable odds - a sure thing. We are unwilling to take a chance or make the gamble that grace and faith so often demand. Not only because we lack courage but we are so self-conscious. We are so concerned about what others think. We don’t want to be embarrassed by failure or labeled a fool for risking the dare that often confronts us in the realm of faith.

Peter was so frequently the willing fool for Christ. But thank God he was. When Jesus demanded that he go against his reason and his experience and let down his nets in the depth of the sea, Peter knew how foolish his actions would appear to his friends, but he dared to be the fool. Because of this he became the big fisherman.

And when he saw the Lord walking on the water, impulsively he threw caution to the wind - the very wind which was to defeat him. There is no thought of self-consciousness here. He didn’t care how reckless or foolish his actions would appear to others. He simply saw his Lord doing a marvelous thing and he was so overcome with naive wonder, he went overboard, feet first.

Now note there are three accounts of this story in the Gospels, but only the one which includes the foolishness of Peter ends, and "the disciples in the boat worshiped Jesus, crying out, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’ "

John’s account of the story ends with the disciples’ willingness to take him into the boat. Mark’s ending is a little more dramatic - the disciples were "amazed and utterly confused." But Matthew’s account ends, "They worshiped him."

Does this not suggest that because Peter was willing to stick his neck out and make a fool of himself, the results of Christ’s walking on the water were far more exciting, dramatic and meaningful? Peter’s foolishness - his impulsive, reckless action - made possible a situation which created for the disciples the opportunity to achieve faith.

How we need people today who are willing to become fools for Christ - to take risks and stick their necks out. Even though they fail trying to accomplish the impossible, they nevertheless contribute to the common corporate faith by serving as an example of how God steps in and does what we cannot do for ourselves.

Peter created a situation in which Christ could demonstrate not only his power over the sea, but his loving concern for his sinking friends. It is an act of great wonder to see the Lord walking on water, but it is even a greater wonder to see Jesus stretch forth his hand, touch a drowning man and lift him up to safety.

It is awe-inspiring to know that our Lord possesses the power to walk on water, but it is even more thrilling to know our Lord possesses the love to save sinking sinners. I have no desire or ambition to walk on water. But my whole being cries out for a loving God who will stretch forth his hand to touch me even when I am so unworthy to touch him. This is the real miracle of our story - not the method God uses to come to us, but the amazing fact that he does come.

We may never see our Lord walk on water, but we can in terrifying, trying times of life, like Peter, feel that touch of God as he stretches forth his hand to rescue us.

The Eyes of Christ

Some commentators point out that the reason Peter failed in his attempt to walk on water was that he took his eyes off of Jesus and looked at the waves.

Now it is true that we frequently fail in life because we look at negative possibilities. And it is an even greater truth that the human imagination is one of our greatest deterrents to faith and creates our most destructive fears. Pictures etched in our minds by our imaginations can destroy our soundest logic and most convincing reasons.

If I were to place a twelve-inch wide plank fifteen feet long on the floor and ask you to walk across it, you could do it with little effort. But if I were to place that same plank between two twenty-story buildings and ask you to walk across it, few would even venture to try. The plank is the same - the balance required hasn’t altered, but what has entered in to change the situation is the imagination. We imagine what would happen to us if we lost our balance or missed our step. This picture in our minds paralyzes our efforts, and we refuse to take the risk.

So as Matthew records, "When he (Peter) noticed the wind, he was afraid." We might assume from this that the sight of the waves was Peter’s downfall. If he had only kept his eyes firmly fixed on Jesus, everything would have been fine and Peter would have shared with our Lord the record of having done what no person had done before or since - walked upon the waters.

However, the big word here is "if." For the truth is that Peter did not choose or decide to look at the waves. He did not willingly take his eyes off the Lord. His attention was pulled to the wind by the sheer force of it against his face. To preach that we should keep our eyes on Christ and then we can accomplish the impossible task is misleading. The point is we can’t! We are too weak, and the forces that rage about us are too strong and demanding. When we admonish people to think positively and trust in the Lord and everything will turn out for the good, we are asking the impossible. This is precisely our problem. We do not have within us the natural capacity for such a task. So often we make faith sound too easy. We glibly give the advice, "Have faith," as if that’s all we needed to know. Accept the fact that faith is needed and you will possess it by the sheer decision to have faith. But that is precisely our problem. We know the importance of faith, but we also know how difficult if not impossible it is to have faith. Particularly when the winds of adversity beat against our face, and our feet find no foundation, and we feel ourselves sinking into destructive depths that are determined to swallow us up.

Many times the decisive moments demanding faith find us thinking of something other than God. It may be that we are too busy like the disciples bailing out the boat, so busy battling we can’t even remember we are believers. Or it may be that we are in such great pain, we are unable to think at all. Or we are anesthetized on an operating table under the knife of a surgeon with our life hanging in the balance. At these decisive moments, if the outcome of our destiny depends on our having faith and keeping our eyes on the Lord, we are really lost - without hope - helpless.

No, the point of this story is not that we need to keep our eyes on Jesus and all will be well. Rather the point is found in Mark’s account where he states, "He (Jesus) saw that the disciples were having trouble rowing the boat, because the wind was blowing against them." This is the Gospel. Not that the eyes of the disciples were on Christ, but Christ’s eyes were upon them.

When at the beginning of the story Jesus sent the people away, left the disciples, and then went up into the hills by himself to pray, the disciples were never out of our Lord’s thoughts or his sight. And we can be assured that even though Peter momentarily took his eyes off of Christ, Christ never for a moment took his eyes off of Peter. This is the Gospel and this is our hope: not our determination to keep Christ in our minds and visions, but his compassionate-concern which keeps us constantly in his mind and vision.

We may forget God, but God never forgets us. Our vision may falter and fail, but God never turns his back or takes his eyes off of us.

Christ the Chooser

Peter’s life with his Lord was one series of failures. One time Peter went so far that Jesus had to rebuke him with the words, "Get thee behind me, Satan." And during the dramatic hours of the trial of Jesus, Peter hovered beside a fire and covered his face, denying that he had ever known this man. Yet this is the man Christ chose to lead his followers and carry on his work. And that is the point - that is the man Christ chose. The greatness of Peter was not his personal capacity, not even his great confession of faith, for his failures far outnumbered his expressions of faith. NO! Peter’s greatness was exclusively grounded on the fact that Christ had chosen him. At the very beginning of their relationship Christ said to him, "I will make you a fisherman of men." And he did. Christ called him "The Rock" and he was. Now a rock is not very good for walking on the water, but it makes a strong foundation for the building of a church. Particularly when that rock is created and sculptured into shape not by itself, but by a master craftsman - a carpenter’s son from Nazareth.

Summary

Now in summary, three lessons linger from this story. First, though we frequently take our eyes off of Christ, he never takes his eyes off of us. We are constantly in his thoughts and his vision. He knows when we are in trouble and when we are in need.

Second, we are not saved because Christ possesses the power to walk on water, but because Christ possesses the love that reaches out and lifts us out of all our distresses.

Third, and certainly the greatest lesson of all - God comes to us! The truth that shines forth in each account of the story is, "He came to them." This is the glorious good news of the Gospel of Grace. God comes to us.

Two young men who were lifelong friends went into the army together. While they were on the battlefield engaged in combat with the enemy, a shell exploded near them. When the smoke cleared away, the one young man saw his buddy some distance from him lying motionless on the muddy ground. Suddenly some soldiers caught hold of his arms and started dragging the young man back to the safety and shelter of the trenches. But the young man cried out, "Let me go! Can’t you see I must get there and help my buddy?" The soldiers pointed out to him that it was useless. His buddy had suffered an almost direct hit and there was no chance that he was still alive. "He never knew what hit him," they argued. The young man wouldn’t listen; he broke away from his rescuers and crawled back onto the battlefield under heavy fire to the side of his buddy. He lifted up the limp body, held his friend for a moment, and then laid him reverently back on the ground. When the young man made his way back to the trench, the calloused soldiers growled, "We told you so! You risked your neck for a foolish gesture." To this the young man replied, "I shall never regret what I did, regardless of the risk; for when I reached the side of my buddy, the last thing he said before he died was, ‘I knew you’d come.’ "

This is the overwhelming message of this miracle. This is the gospel. This is our hope. This is the positive promise of almighty God. In every hour of trouble and need God comes to us. No obstacle is too great, no storm too strong, no wall is too high, no barrier too broad, no pit too deep, no door too firmly locked to keep him out. As he came walking on the water to his disciples, so he will come to us walking on the waters of our deepest adversity. And we shall cry out in triumph, "I knew you’d come!"


1. H. Van der Loos, The Miracles of Jesus (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968), p. 650.

2. A. E. Harvey, Companion to the New Testament (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), p. 331.

3. Alan Richardson, The Gospel According to John, Torach Commentaries.

4. Van der Loos, op. cit. p. 665.

5. Van der Loos, op. cit. p. 665.

6. The Reverend Ralph Wallace, Pastor of St. Paul's Lutheran Church, Columbia, S.C., from a sermon preached January 29, 1978.

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., I Knew You'd Come!, by Richard Hoefler