- WALKING ON WATER
Sometimes we get into trouble before we know what hit us. There we are, sailing along in our snug little boat, when out of nowhere the wind rises and the sea begins to chop hard.
Suddenly our boat doesn’t seem so snug anymore. In fact it may be in imminent danger of being swamped. What happened to the security we felt only minutes before?
For instance, last month you may have thought your finances were secure, and you felt safe and sound. Of course, that was before you lost your job or the stock market bottomed out. Now you feel your boat is going down.
What do you do?
The sinking boat syndrome happened to Jesus’ disciples, too. Caught in a wild storm at sea, they frantically cried out to God.
Suddenly there was Jesus, strolling past them on the waves. They were terrified, thinking He was a ghost. Peter, who had a talent for making rash statements when he was alarmed, said, “If that’s really You, Lord, let me come to You on the water.”
Come! Jesus replied. And Peter walked on the water.
We’ve heard this story so often that it seems almost mythical; but it isn’t. It happened.
Peter could walk on the water because Jesus was there. He was doing fine, too, until suddenly he seemed to “come to himself” and realize what he had gotten into: He was standing in the middle of a raging sea.
Not surprisingly, he lost his focus. As soon as he took his eyes off of Jesus and started looking at what was going on around him, two things happened to him:
He was afraid.
He began to sink.
Then he did the right thing. He cried out three wonderful, delivering little words: “Lord, save me!”
Jesus reached out His hand and caught and held him, saying “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Only after Jesus and Peter got into the boat, did the storm stop. Jesus could have commanded the winds and waves to be still much sooner, but he didn’t.
He knew His men were in trouble, yet He let the tempest howl. He wanted them to see that He was available, ready and able to deliver, right in the midst of their fear and sweat and struggle.
He was teaching them to trust in His divinity and power and love. All they had to do was fix their focus on Him—the almighty, overruling, redeeming God. When the lesson was over, the storm stopped and the worship began.
Sometimes the Lord doesn’t make our storms stop immediately, either. Feeling sorry for ourselves, we turn our eyes to heaven, hoping at least for a Fatherly “There, there.”
Instead, we’re just as likely to hear, “This is a test. Focus.” The object of our focus, the one who carries us through all the storms, is Jesus, Risen Lord; alive and well and focused on us.