The Courage of Peter-at-his-best

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.”