We all know the story of Jesus walking on the water. It’s a popular story that highlights Jesus’ authority over nature. But what catches my attention when I read this story is Peter’s experience and its relatability.
“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid,” Jesus says to his shaken disciples as he approaches the boat.
Sometimes, I find myself in the middle of a storm. Something doesn’t go according to plan and I am sucked into a sea of anxiety. Jesus comes walking to me through the storm, somehow staying upright and moving forward despite the waves rocking me fiercely. I see that it’s Jesus, and I know I need him. But the storm continues to frighten me.
Peter sees that Jesus is walking toward him, and he says, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.” And Jesus says, “Come.”
I know that Jesus is with me in the storm. But I still need reassurance sometimes. Even if I see him walking toward my tossed and flooding boat, he can feel so distant. I call out to him. I challenge him. “If it’s really you, Jesus, then I can walk through this storm, too.” Like Peter, I expect Jesus to help me through my own fear and trembling and to guide me through the storm.
With his eyes on Jesus, Peter managed to walk on the water. For a moment. Until a gust of wind took him by surprise and distracted him. He was knocked off balance, just a bit, and became afraid all over again. And he began to sink, crying out, “Lord, save me!”
Just when I think I have conquered the storm and everything is calm and steady, a gust of anxiety or an unexpected event takes my eyes from Jesus’ face. I want so badly, with everything in me, to keep my eyes on the one who saves and helps me through the storms. But I can’t. I’m not strong enough. So I begin to sink. And all I can do is cry out, “Lord, save me!”
Matthew says “Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.” Immediately. Jesus wrapped his hand around Peter’s wrist and kept him from drowning. Peter was safe. But I’m sure he was still afraid. Waist-deep in a troubled sea, frightened fish whipping around his ankles. And Jesus says, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”
When I cry out, Jesus catches me. That doesn’t mean that all of my problems vanish. The storm may still rage around me or even within me, but I know that Jesus has me and won’t let me drown. And he whispers to me, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” It’s not a reprimand. It’s a comfort. It’s a reminder that I need not fear. It’s my one true love saying tenderly, “Of course I love you. Of course I’ll protect you. Have I ever let you down? Never. And I never will. I am here for you. Always. Never doubt my love for you.”
And then I let myself fall into his arms while we sit in a storm-tossed boat, knowing that even as the storm rages on, no wind or waves can ever take my Lord away from me.
Neglected Word 