Getting out of the boat. Or not.

"'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.'"

That's from the Matthew 14.

Peter gets out of the boat to walk towards Jesus?  Lord, if you are who you say you are, call me to walk on the water! Lovely, impetuous, impulsive Peter blurts it out and Jesus has a little smile and says, 'Go on then. Come.' 

And he does. At least for a few glorious moments, Peter is walking on water, eyes fixed on his master and friend, Jesus Christ, he doesn't sink beneath the swell, he walks On The Water, which as we know, is impossible. It's not possible, to walk on water. 

But he does. Not because of who he is, but because of who Jesus is. Tell me to come to you, and I will, because you can do amazing things. You can empower me to do amazing things. Me! I trust you so much, that if you ask me to do something, you know it's possible, and I only have to do what you ask me to do. 

That's what Peter was saying. So Jesus said, 'Come,' and Peter came. On the water. 

What happened next is by the way. Much has been written about why Peter started to sink, including my own take on it, which you can catch up on here, if you feel so inclined. 

I've been imagining myself in the boat. Me, in all my hesitant INFJ over-thinking splendour. 

Its still dark; before first light and the wind is getting up. We're all in the boat but the waves are big and it's getting a bit rough out there on the lake. Jesus isn't with us, because he went off doing that Lone Man on a Hill thing that he does now and then and we've learned to give him some space. The boat is getting tossed around a little when suddenly there's this apparition coming towards us. 

'It's a ghost!' someone shouts. That probably wouldn't have been me, I don't think. I wouldn't have been as dramatic as that. I'd have been at the back gripping the side of the boat and staring as the others point. What on earth is that? 

'Calm down, calm down, it's me.' Oh, it's Jesus. 

We all exhale a sigh of relief. It's Jesus. Thank God for that; a ghost indeed! Who said it was a ghost? Numpty.

You're missing the point, though, He's walking on the water. On it. Blimey, this man is something else. We've never seen anyone walk on water before. 

I'd have gazed in awe and wonder. Oh, Lord Jesus. You are amazing, and you're my friend. How can this be? 

I wonder if it would have occurred to me to ask what Peter asked? No, I can't imagine it. I always wait to be asked. I always hang back, afraid to be the one to push myself forward, reluctant to invite attention. Peter wasn't like me at all. 

'Lord if it's you, tell me to come and I'll walk on water too!' 

'Alright. It's a deal' 

Jesus must have been so delighted at Peter's outrageous request. He saw that Peter understood something about who he was. I'd like to think there was a chance I'd have grasped it too, but unlike Peter I'd have needed much more processing tome. 

Much more time. I am not a decisive person. Not known for my spontaneity, my happy-go-lucky attitude, my impulsiveness. Nope, I'm a planner. If Jesus had sent me an email the week before telling me how he saw that evening panning out, I might have been in with a chance. But this one unfolded quickly and unexpectedly.

There I'd be, towards the back of the boat, looking at Jesus with his broad smile full of affection, pride, confidence; at Peter scrambling over the side of the boat and lowering himself towards the water. My heart would have been beating so hard, and yet it would have been hard to breathe.

Oh, me too. 

Can I come? Lord, I want to walk towards you. I believe that if you call me, you'll make sure I don't sink. If you think I can walk on water, I believe that I can - I only have to keep my eyes on you. It's not me, it's you; I can do anything if you are near me. If you are there with your arms outstretched to receive me, if you are here, I am safe, even when doing something strange and impossible like walking on a stormy lake. 

And yet I am afraid. My legs won't move. How did Peter act so quickly on this revelation and yet I am here paralysed into inactivity, even though I want more than anything to do what my reckless friend is doing? 

Should I follow? Shout, 'Me too, Lord!' and hurl myself over the side after him? What if the invitation was only for Peter, because it was his idea? What if Jesus doesn't see me and he doesn't realise I'm there; I won't know what to do. I shall just dangle off the side of the boat until I drop off or someone hauls me in again, exasperated.

Should I ask permission? 'Lord, please can I come, too?' What if he doesn't hear me? Or says no? I'll be so embarrassed. Everyone will think I'm so presumptuous - clearly it's ok for Peter because it's the kind of thing he'd do, but me? Clearly getting too big for my boots, thinking that I can walk on water; ridiculous. What if I try and I can't do it? Can I even get over the side, in this swell, with my dodgy knee? I could easily fall and make a real fool of myself. There I'd be, splashing about fully clothed, ruining Peter's special moment.  What if I try and fail? I need to do something, I so want to be part of this miracle I'm witnessing... Should I go? What if I need rescuing and everyone laughs, or thinks how stupid I am, or worse, gets annoyed that I cause so much trouble? 

I am frozen, watching the spectacle unfold. What if I follow Peter, and then everyone does? What if Jesus was just taking a short cut to the boat in a low-key sort of way and then all because of me, everyone jumps out of the boat and we're all there skipping around on the water and Jesus is rolling his eyes and saying, 'Come on, guys, get back in the boat, it's been a long day.' What if we all leap out enthusiastically and we all go under? Jesus has to spend half an hour fishing us out when all he wants is a rest and a bite to eat? 

Look! Peter's actually doing it! Look at that! Jesus can walk on water, because he's God, but Peter?! He trusted Jesus and he's now actually defying gravity! It's impossible! Oh, this is amazing. Oh, Peter, Peter! No wonder Jesus says that you're going to be the foundation of his church. Look what you've done! I am in awe. Oh look at this; think what you're witnessing; this is huge. 

You missed your opportunity, didn't you? That could have been you, but it's too late now. 

You blew it. 

Your part in the story is as the one who stood and gaped and didn't do anything; in fact you're not in this story, at all, are you?  Look at the Lord's face. He's so proud of Peter - wouldn't you just love to have Jesus look at you like that?  You want that more than anything, don't you? Well, Peter got there first, while you were still wondering and faffing and debating with yourself. Sometimes you've just got to act, to step out in faith; that's what Peter did, isn't it?  Right in front of your eyes. While you were still thinking what to do, weighing up the pros and cons, he just got on with it. And now look. He's made the Lord happy. 

You so wish you were Peter right now, don't you? This wonderful thing has just happened and you're feeling all churned up inside. 

That would have been me. 

And yet, a friend told me the other day that she thinks that the Lord wants me to know that although I doubt the depth of my faith, he doesn't.  That despite my convictions that I'd hang back in the boat, fearful and filled with confusion, in her picture I was climbing over the side with a big smile. 

Lord Jesus, let it be true. Give me the chance? 

**

I was going to leave this blog post right here, but I find myself wondering if that is a sensible prayer to be praying. What if God does indeed give me the chance to step out of the boat, whatever that means? It certainly won't be a physical boat in the centre of Queen's Park Boating Lake, but some significant boat in my spiritual journey. I often feel stifled, stalled - as if I'm revving in neutral, if the metaphor can stand both of those at the same time. 

Getting out of the boat sounds scary. Maybe you need to be a Peter kind of person to do it. Maybe I should just stay where I'm safe a bit longer. Maybe if I say, 'Lord, call me and I'll come,' he'll say, 'Alright then, come!' and then... and then, I'd have to... get out of the boat...

Maybe there is a boat, and perhaps I should get out of it, with my eyes fixed on Jesus. 

Maybe it's time. 

I'll let you know. 

Walking on the water

'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 towards Jesus. But when he say 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 worshipped him, saying, 'Truly, you are the Son of God.'
Matthew 14:22-33

You're asking me about the walking on water thing? Not many people ask me about that. It's not what I'm most famous for.  Ask me about the time he gave me my new name, or about the of times he took me on one side to teach me something, just me and him, those are times I'm proud of. 

And I know, I know, there's the bit just before he died... people don't ask me about that either, but for an entirely different reason. 

Jesus chose me, you know. 

I was just a fisherman. A good one. I could have made a good living, you know, but Jesus told me I could be so much more. He knew me; somehow he saw me in a way that nobody ever had - he knew what I was like. He knew that I didn't go far in school, that I'm better with my hands than my brain - that I often let my mouth get the better of me, but he saw beyond all that. Where other people saw roughness, he saw potential.

Ah. I let him down over and over again but he never stopped believing in me. I'm not going to let him down now. I have a job to do. 

Me and the boys - we're going to tell the world about our Lord. We're going to build a church. It's going to be big, you know. Nothing can stop us.

The walking on water thing? Oh alright. 

It was back in the early days. It was that day that he'd fed thousands and thousands of people with one little lad's lunch - did you hear about that? Out of all those people only one kid thought to bring a snack? Anyway, Jesus did one of those miracle things that we all loved and we had a real party. It was that night. 

He sent us on ahead in the boat and he stayed and talked with the crowd for a while. I don't know where he got his energy but he always had time for people. Even when he was exhausted, he was never impatient and dismissive as the rest of us were. He stayed and chatted and prayed with them and we could see from out on the lake that the crowd was breaking up as the sun went down. We assumed he was going to go off by himself for a while then meet us round the other side.

We sat and ate leftover bread and talked about the stuff that Jesus had been saying. He never failed to surprise us. It had been a good day. We were excited and inspired. And full. 

I think I fell asleep. Most of us did, I think. I've spent years in boats in all weathers and it's not a problem for me to catch forty winks even when it's a bit choppy out there. Not so for all of us; I remember Matthew looking a bit green - he never was much of a sailor. But I was drowsy and confused when Andrew shook me awake. 

'What in heaven's name is that?' he said, pointing. Actually, it was a bit cruder than that, but I won't repeat exactly what he said in polite company. 

There was something floating, some distance away. Whitish, caught in the faint glow from our lantern, sort of hovering above the water. We couldn't see because it was dark, not even first light yet. I remember squinting into the darkness and realising that we should take a bit more care because the wind was up. The boat was pitching about and one minute I could see this white thing and then the next it was gone as the waves threw us high and sucked us low. The others were all pale and staring. 

It was unnerving. What on earth was this thing? It seemed to be getting closer. The lads were all terrified. I wasn't, of course; not much scares me. But it was a bit weird. 

I can't remember who it was that first spoke, but I remember that pandemonium broke out just afterwards. Someone said, 'It's a ghost!'  Before I could say, 'Oh, pull yourself together, there's no such thing as ghosts! Did your mother teach you nothing?' some of the guys backed away from the nearside of the boat to the other so suddenly that it yawed over that way and threatened to throw us all overboard. Everyone started to shout. Young John tried to hide and there was someone screaming like a girl. I think it was Bartholomew. Good set of lungs on him.

The white thing was closer now and I could see that it was a man. His clothes were blowing in the wind and there was spray everywhere and his hair was across his face, but it was a man, and he was walking on the water. He was coming towards us. 

And then, a voice. A familiar voice. Still too far away to recognise him by sight, and yet I could hear the voice we'd been listening to all day as clear as anything even over the howl of the wind and the flapping of the sails and everything. 

'It's me. Don't panic. It's only me, do you hear? Calm down.'

I have to say that at that moment I was amazed. This was a new thing. Turns out that he didn't fancy the walk to the other side after all. 

It was the Lord. Walking on the water.

I didn't think at all, it was almost involuntary. I heard myself shout, 

'Is it you? Lord, if it's really you, tell me to come out there too!'

Caught up in the moment? Maybe that was it. You had to have been there. 

Afterwards Andrew and James told me that they couldn't believe what I was saying. I don't remember there being any thought process, just this urge to go to him. To go to my Lord. 

Jesus laughed. He held out his hand.

'Come on, then,' he said.

I climbed over the side of the boat and slid down, holding on with my arms. Thomas pulled at my arm saying, 'Don't be so stupid! You're going to drown!' but I shook him off. 

The boat pitched violently, but I honestly don't remember any fear. No, really. Not then. I felt for the water with my feet and I turned my head to look at Jesus. He stood, clothes blowing in the gale, smiling, beckoning. Oh, my God! I would go anywhere the Lord wants me to go! 

I let go of the boat. 

My feet were wet; the waves splashed over the bottom of my clothes. I didn't take my eyes from my Lord, who was laughing with delight. He held out his hands and I took a step. 

I walked on the water. I did! I looked right into his eyes and I saw his pleasure and I knew that there was nothing on earth that could hurt me if I was walking to my Lord. My heart was full of love for him and determination that I wouldn't let him down and there was this strange, flooding confidence that I can't describe but I knew, I knew that I could do all things, not me, but him. 

So long as he was there ahead of me, beckoning to me, smiling at me, I could do all things. I believed it with all my heart.

I walked towards him. I looked right in his eyes and I lifted my hands out wide. Look at this! Look at me!

Oh, it took only a second for it all to go wrong. I glanced around. I darted a triumphant look back at the boat and I saw how low it was sunk in the swell. I saw the glow of the dawn just beginning and silhouetted against the lighter sky I saw the trees of the shore bent and whipping back and forth in the wind. I looked back at Jesus and this time I saw his garments flapping around his legs instead of the steadiness of his outstretched hand.

I looked down - and it was over. I should never have looked down. I started to sink faster than you can imagine and in the moment where it seemed as if I was looking death in the face I screamed.

'Lord, help me!'

He was there. He caught my arm and his grip was solid. His feet did not sink even though the cold spray wet him as the wind picked it up and flung it at us. 

He held me, and I found my feet again as if on solid ground. I was afraid and out of breath and shivering and there were tears on my face, I'm not ashamed to say. I was a different man from the fearless one who gazed into the eyes of the Lord and strode towards him on top of the waves. 

Jesus looked deep inside me. He could do that, you know. Never met anyone else who could.

His eyes locked into mine. 

'Oh - you of little faith!'  he scolded. He didn't sound angry. His eyes were searching, looking at my soul.

Then, quietly,  'Why did you doubt?'

I had no words to answer him, but that moment is fixed in my mind like no other. I stood, soaked, on top of the churning, heaving water with the Lord Jesus himself holding me up, and I realised why it went wrong. I realised that I sank because I took my eyes from him. 

You see - you can do anything when you look to him. He will make it possible. He just wants you to make sure that you're looking at him. Me? I can't walk on water - of course I can't - he gave me the power, but only when I was totally focused on him. I started letting all the other stuff in and it distracted me and then it was game over. 

It wasn't about the wind or the waves or the water. It was about my total trust in him. When I trusted him completely, I was fine. When I started to doubt, I started to sink. Simple as that. I stopped believing.

But he saved me. 

A moment passed. 

'Why did you doubt?' 

It stayed in my head. He meant it to. 

He saved me.

We climbed into the boat and it would not have mattered to me if the lads had ridiculed me for my adventure, but they were all silent. 

Mouths hung open as they watched us climb into the boat, first me, then Jesus. 

The minute he stood inside the boat by the pile of nets, pulling a blanket around him, the wind dropped. The howling and whistling ceased and the sails hung quiet. The waves no longer had white tops and the icy spray stopped lashing us.  

I fell to my knees, and the others did as well. Jesus leaned back against the boat side and smiled. 

'My Lord...my Lord...' was all I could manage. 

Someone behind me said it, just stated it baldly.

'You're the Son of God, alright.' 

And he was. 

He is, you know.

He's the Son of God.