A number of years ago, I was at a mission’s conference and heard Weston
Leibee preach a sermon. Sadly, I forgot the bulk of the message, the title, and the year of the conference, but I remember his example of Peter’s
courage on the night he stepped out of the boat and walked on water. Laying
aside our criticism for the Peter who fell, the phrase “Peter got out of the
boat!” has followed me through the years and inspires me, especially this past
month.
It was a dark night
and the wind was strong.
They were alone.
No,
not completely alone because there were 12 of them, yet alone enough because they were
out in the middle of a lake, rowing hard against the wind.
And no one else was
there.
There were no
neighbors within shouting distance when a figure
came walking towards them
across the waves.
Their fear was
palpable because they thought this was a ghost. (Humans can’t walk on water,
after all.) Plus, they knew way too much about demon possession. They saw folks
writhe and foam. They saw the naked madman with broken chains
who lived among
the tombs.
They had seen enough
to be afraid of spirits.
And surely even a lone ghost could do bad things to a group
of men in a boat
on a lake at night.
But this was no
ghost.
It was Jesus who knew
their fear and called across the water,
“Take courage! It is
I! Don’t be afraid!”
Still uncertain,
Peter hollered back, “If it is you, Jesus, tell me to come!”
It was a daring move.
But Jesus said,
“Come.”
And Peter stood.
He
gripped the side of the boat and courageously slung a leg over the side.
The water was firm to
his foot.
The other leg followed.
He was standing on water.
He walked, and the
water held him.
Years and years
later, we quickly forget that part. But we remember, with inward scorn, the man
who took his eyes off of Jesus. We use the sinking Peter as an example of what
we ought not to be –a faithless one- and we forget the courage of a man who stepped
out of a boat and walked on water.
Today when I need
courage, I think of Peter-at-his-best.
Not the guy who trembled
at the fluid path beneath his feet.
Not the Peter who
cried out and fell when the watery mountains surged around him.
That part is
just a warning so we know what happens if we start analyzing all the
circumstances that surround us after daring to step out. In every situation
that takes courage, there are always the “winds and the waves” that can make us
lose heart.
Sometimes my winds
and waves aren’t a result of earth-shattering, life-changing choices,
yet they still
need to be conquered.
Like having the neighborhood
children over to play with my son.
I knew what I was getting into when I
started this
and I had a hard time looking past the waves.
I was sure the
children would swarm at our gate in between play times,
meaning I’d have a lot
more monitoring to do.
I was pretty sure some of their play would be things we don’t
allow our children to do.
Between that and knowing they have been exposed to
far too much at far too young,
I was going to need to monitor every playtime
carefully.
And it happened, of
course.
The children swarm at the gate and worry the dog.
The boy we trusted
first has been caught in multiple lies and slunk away,
no longer coming for the
play time we started because of how respectful he was.
Another child uses
inanimate objects, says they are people, and stabs them to death.
And the
“boy-whose-name-we-don’t-know” clobbers my son in retaliation to me saying no
to something he wanted to do.
Tyler just happened to be the unfortunate
messenger. Twice.
I have spent hours
and hours monitoring play, putting an end to things
like a child helping my son
ride a bike up a tree,
and trying come up with group games that are fun for
everyone, 4 to 13 years old.
Sometimes I tense up
and want to stay in the boat, clutching my children to me.
I want to shelter
them from the winds and not ever, ever let anything bad happen to them.
It is
easiest not to face the waves.
But there is
that call, “Come!”
Beyond the waves, I
see Jesus and the impact He can make.
We might be the only Voice for Truth the local children will hear.
My children might end up having really good friends.
So I let the children
come back.
I supervise their play, debriefing my children afterwards, making
sure I’ve heard their stories and making sure they know what Mama thinks about
hitting, lying, and pretending to kill.
We talk about what
God says about those things.
Who knows.
Maybe the
things I feared are actually the things that will strengthen my children,
provided we can guide them through.
At other times, I
need to step out of the boat and go visit my neighbors.
But it is hard.
We live on the edge
of a city, a place where the sense of community has largely been choked out by
too much distrust.
They are polite at
the gate, but they don’t invite me in.
The walls and gates surrounding
their houses are intimidating.
My repeated “Hellos” were
ignored completely by someone standing right there until I finally turned and
went to another house.
It takes great effort
to try again.
They don’t
reciprocate my visits.
But these hard things
are only the waves and winds that threaten to keep me
from walking on the
water.
Knuckles white, I grip the side of the boat, preparing to step out.
I look up, beyond the waves
and see Jesus, the One who invited me to live this Life Out of the Boat. He sees
something far bigger and longer lasting than mere waves.
Good may still come
out of my bumbling efforts at making friends.
Jesus knows it is
hard and bridges the gap with an encouraging, “Be of good courage!”
Releasing my grip, I
step out.
Do you have hard
things to face and need the courage of Peter-at-his-best?
Look up, beyond the
waves, and see Jesus.
He is already on those waves you feared.
And He calls to
you, saying, “Come.”
