Matthew 14:22-33
Jesus Walks on the Water
22 Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23 After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, 24 and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
25 Shortly before dawn, Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
27 But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
29 “Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”
32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
I want to be vulnerable with you, my dear Reader. I want to be truthful. There are many comments about my articles, people praising me for being so strong in my faith. While those words bring me comfort and joy, and I appreciate each one, God recently revealed something to me that I want to share with you all.
I may be strong in the morning through God’s grace, but it would have been a very different story if you saw me during the night.
I’ve kept a journal since I was young. This is a section from an entry that I wrote only a couple of days ago:
I want to do theatre. I want to write. Both are careers like no other. I am asked daily to be vulnerable. I am asked to put myself out there physically and emotionally, mostly for complete strangers. So when I am vulnerable with people I am truly close with and get rejected, I think it cuts deeper. I think it hurts a little bit more.
Why does this always happen to me? Why am I always “too much?” I could care for someone so well. Why can’t I find someone who wants to care about me? Sometimes I can’t help thinking something must be wrong with me. There must be a flaw I can’t see that people don’t like being around.
God, there are days when I feel like my loneliness will bury me. It just comes in waves and waves and waves and I feel so trapped. Like I’ll never, never get out. There are days where I think it might kill me, this pressing, this weight. Lord, it is so smothering.
But like Peter, I have to remember that through these depths, in this unbelievable darkness, there is a hand reaching in, a hand that will grab and hold and not let go.
Why do I have to keep struggling? When can I start breathing again? When can I start breathing again?
I wrote that during the night and the enemy loves to tell me that I am the ONLY one who feels this way. But I know, dear Reader, you have felt this, too. Maybe you are feeling it now or maybe my words let you remember a season where this was a constant state you learned to live in.
I must remind myself daily that I may feel this way, but this feeling does not define who I am.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)
This is a section from the entry I wrote the very next day after the one above:
This is what I did today. I woke up. And I must be thankful for that. I did yoga. I went home and recorded an audition video for an opportunity I am very excited about. After, I went to a coffee shop by myself. Then I wrote for four hours—four hours of writing the novel I know I’ll write one day. Then my cast and I went to see a ballet that was breath-taking that told the story of Moses.
Sometimes I need to keep track of and remember that more good things happen. More good things happen if we choose to see them.
Peter sank into the water when his eyes weren’t on Jesus. When his faith turned to the storm instead of his stronghold, he fell. How many times have I done that, Lord? It is scary and it’s hard, but Jesus is always there holding out his hand to us in our sin, in our fallen nature, in our depths of loneliness.
And we must choose to hold on.
In The Message version, Jesus calls Peter, “Faint-heart.” I am faint of heart in more ways than I count, but My Savior is a mighty lion. I am “Faint-heart” on my own, but with Jesus, I am brave, strong, and loved.
Embrace that truth today, dear Reader. Grab on to his hand. You may not be able to see the surface of the water, but keep kicking towards the light.
You will start breathing again. – Ellie Zumbach
October 7, 2019
