Battered by the Waves

  Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." "Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." "Come," he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God." When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret. And when the men of that place recognized Jesus, they sent word to all the surrounding country. People brought all their sick to him and begged him to let the sick just touch the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed.  Matthew 14: 22-36

As I meditated over this passage I couldn't stop thinking how the disciples were surely fatigued, possibly even ministry fatigued. They'd just buried John the Baptist, seemingly worked crowd control among thousands while supporting Jesus's miraculous ministry. They witnessed the miracles of loaves and fishes, and then were called upon to be the hands to deliver this miraculous food to potentially ten thousand people. At this point I'm sympathetic to the introverts in the group. All senses must have been in overdrive: the noise of thousands; the smell of the same thousands who were there for hours (including the odor of illness, fish, and bread); the feeling of being jostled by throngs of people as they walked amongst crowds handing out food; the taste of fish, bread, and sweat mixed as they ministered; the sight of face upon face, the sick and lame-many of whom were now healed, faces eager to hear and see Jesus. I imagine the spiritual senses were heightened by Jesus' miraculous healings, feeding, and compassion on the people. How many questions did the people on the fringes of the crowd have for them, and did this result is question fatigue? (This alone can wear a mama out!) I can only imagine they'd reached the point of exhaustion. 

Jesus, for reasons not fully stated, immediately has them climb aboard a boat and set sail. It's now between the hours of 3-6am after what appears to be an exhausting day. They're tired. They're vulnerable, and now they find themselves in a boat a considerable distance from shore in waters that are anything but calm. Is it really too far fetched that someone thinks they start seeing a ghost at this point? I don't know about you, but exhaustion can do some pretty funny things with my brain. Fatigue often precedes fear. Fear creeps in when we are most vulnerable, when we are so busy fighting the wind and all we long to do is rest. Yet, in the moments we are most desperate for rest we somehow at some point stop expectantly watching for Jesus- our truest rest. Sometimes our fear is in seeing the unexpected and not recognizing Jesus in the moment. Even then our tender, sweet Jesus offers assurance and clarity of his presence. We need not be afraid-he is here. 

Other times we are more like Peter. We eagerly jump ship and hit the water walking in obedience. "Come," he says, and thus we do. But it's in proceeding steps we falter as fear creeps in and slaps us in the face like a stormy wind. Our gaze drifts off course, our attention is distracted. Instead of the voice of the One calling we hear the wind whistling and waves crashing. We see the swirling dangers, problems, and "what ifs" instead of Jesus. We start drowning in our fears, our ineptness. 

If we could just echo those three words of Peter, "Lord, save me!" Sweet, tender, mighty Jesus reaches out and catches us. He was always there, always in control: whether or not we knew it or acknowledged it. Can we admit we are often most overwhelmed by the fact we are not the one in control? All I know is that I need him. I desperately want him in my boat, even when I neglect to invite him aboard. There's no peace in my boat until Jesus, the prince of peace, is in my boat. 

We often assume our walk on the water is going to be our testimony, our "great faith" display. Sometimes it may be. Although, many times it's in our sinking and the ensuing rescue when Jesus is most glorified: when much is made of him and not of us. 

Eventually as we read on and move into the next chapter we realize our boats will land again. Our ministries and lives will resume. Hopefully, we'll be all the more grateful for a God who kindly comes to us, speaks courage and peace, plunges us from the waves, calms the storms, and guides our boat to shore. Maybe, just maybe, someone will see how he saved us from ourselves, our exhaustion, our fears, and our ineptness; realizing he can do the same for them. Sometimes our boats land just to do it all over again, but this time we know who's in our boat: peace and power himself.