He really should be used to it by now. This wasn’t his first day. In the months since he’d willingly walked away from his boat and nets, he’d heard Jesus ask a hundred questions. To humans. As if He didn’t already know the answer. As if He wasn’t omniscient. As if He didn’t know what was going on in their minds. Yes, they wanted Him to heal them. Yes, they believed He could. Yes, they understood what He was trying to teach them. At least they thought they did. Standing there on dry ground beside Jesus, Peter had often wondered at the purpose of these question-and-answer sessions. Was it a real question? Was it a test? Was it a measurement of faith or commitment? Did the questions demand a verbal answer, or was it simply something to contemplate? (Matthew 4:18-20, 8:5-13, 9:27-39; 13:51)
Regardless of his previous ponderings, Peter would definitely be contemplating this question later. There was no time right now. In fact, he couldn’t think of a worse moment for someone to ask a question. Water lapped around his feet, threatening to sneak higher and suck him into its still churning depth. Clutching Jesus’ arm, he cautiously placed one foot in front of the other, inching back toward the boat. The trip seemed to be taking forever. His panicked breathing hadn’t returned to normal. His heart was still racing. His mind reeled from his near-death experience. He was in no mental position to process any question, literal or rhetorical. His brain kept reprimanding his impulsiveness. It had nearly been his demise. Or had it?
Sailing toward their next destination on a placid, sun-lit lake, the disciples were reclining, soaking in the smell of water and fish, relaxing to the gentle flutter of the sail in the wind. For many of them, this was their happy place. A time to quietly ponder life and the lessons they’d just heard taught. Jesus had sent them ahead. It wasn’t unusual. He enjoyed time alone. They were used to that too. They understood. He probably needed a moment to breathe and escape from the incessant deluge of questions and requests. They got it. They also understood the sea. So, when the winds became more earnest and the waves rocked the boat more earnestly, they noticed. Paid attention. They were used to the changing pitch and yaw of their vessel and largely unalarmed by the rising winds and rougher waves. It happened. They’d live. If they exercised caution.
Taking their stations at various parts of the ship, they monitored their progress, hoping to make land by daybreak. It wasn’t looking good. The wind wasn’t blowing in their favor. It was now against them, literally blowing them back to sea. It was frustrating. They were helpless against the elements. They could raise and lower the sail all they wanted. They could exhaust every ounce of strength in rowing. Nothing changed the outcome. They were going where the weather took them.
Frustrated, they maintained their stations, waiting for any sign the storm might be breaking up. Visible stars. The light of the moon. A beacon from shore. Any sign of hope would have been welcome. The short rest at the beginning of their journey hadn’t been enough. They were tired. Their eyes felt gritty from the spray. They were hungry. A little grumpy. A lot alarmed as the cry came from the starboard bow. Something was in the water, rapidly headed their direction. It looked like a person, but could only be a ghost. It walked atop the water as though it was on land. Never once did the water dampen the hem of its garment. Droplets didn’t splash up with every step. It wasn’t sinking. Wasn’t scared. But it was terrifying them!
Calling to one another above the wind, the disciples left their posts to come see what was happening. Fear-laced voices echoed across the water. What? Who? Why? How? Hearing their words of fear and dismay, Jesus called back, “Don’t worry. It’s just me. Don’t be scared.” The words might have worked on the rest of the disciples. They likely recognized His voice. The sound was enough to calm their dismay. Except Peter. Peter needed more. He needed proof. His faith wasn’t easily won. Before he could think of a way to gain proof, his impetuous self ran ahead. His mouth fired off before his brain was in gear. He called back, “If it’s really you, tell me to walk on water too.” And Jesus did.
The others watched with bated breath as Peter stepped off the boat on the lake. It was such a risky business. What Jesus managed to easily do on land, they were often hard-pressed to imitate. They wouldn’t even attempt this. Yet, there went Peter, risking life and limb as usual, nonchalantly walking across the lake to Jesus. The wind hadn’t stilled. The waves hadn’t slowed. The danger level was still high. Yet there he walked. And they couldn’t take their astonished eyes off him. They had questions of their own. Would he make it the whole way to Jesus? Would he hit a soft spot and sink? Would he realize what he was doing and call for a life preserver? Should someone grab it just in case?
They wouldn’t need it. Peter already had his life preserver. And he was going to need it. As a stiff wind blew across the lake, tangling his garments around his legs and whipping his hair into his face, Peter realized where he was, what he was doing, the enormous risk on which his unbridled impetuousness had taken him. He was afraid. Terrified, really. As he looked around, assessed the situation and quickly listed the things that could go wrong with this adventure, his faith failed. Doubt overwhelmed him. He felt the wind, looked at the waves, and imagined the worst-case scenario. A watery grave. And then it began to happen. He started sinking. Fast. The water covered his feet and ankles in a matter of seconds. It had soaked his clothes and climbed halfway up his calves before he managed to remember his life preserver was just inches away. Crying out to Jesus, Peter reached out his hand for help. And Jesus gave it.
Grasping Peter’s sinking hand in His strong one, Jesus raised him back to the surface, carefully turned him back toward the boat, and began to usher him across the water to safety. The question He asked resounded in Peter’s ears. It would invade his thoughts for days to come. It would dominate every contemplative moment. When everyone else Peter knew would have shaken their heads and pointed out his impetuousness, Jesus cut right to the heart of the matter in a single question, “Why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:22-33)
It wasn’t impulsiveness or impetuousness that got Peter into trouble. It was doubt. Doubt caused him to take his eyes off Jesus. Doubt caused him to lose faith in the power of God. Doubt made him wonder if the wind and waves would win. Doubt made Peter question, if only for a split second, if Jesus was enough. Enough to save him from the sea. Enough to carry him back to safety. Enough to calm the storm and see their vessel safely to shore. We are no different than Peter.
We think we are. We’ve read the Book. We know Peter was present when Jesus healed the sick and cast out demons. We remember that Peter was in the boat when Jesus rebuked the wind and waves of another storm. With all he’d seen and heard, the firsthand accounts and personal interactions, we strongly believe Peter had all the impetus he needed to faithfully believe Jesus could and would handle the water and wind and waves to get him safely back to the boat. We shake our heads in disappointment when he gets distracted, doubts, and starts to sink. Yet we are no different than Peter. (Matthew 8)
We’ve read the Book. Hopefully, all of it. We’ve read the actions of God on behalf of His people. We’ve heard the accounts of Jesus’ miraculous work on earth. We’ve seen amazing answers to prayer in our own lives or the lives of those around us. It should be enough for us to maintain our faith in the God we can prove has never let His people down. Yet, buffeted by the storms of life, we still suck in a breath and wait to exhale, worried that this will be the time He fails. Afraid we aren’t worthy of His love, His grace, His mercy, His healing, His answer, we hold our breath and hope, but our hearts crowd with doubt. Doubt that He cares. Doubt that He’ll work. Doubt He can meet our needs without us meddling. Doubt, if only the smallest flicker, that crowds our hearts and clouds our vision with the weighty ponderance, “Is Jesus really enough?” (Hebrews 10:23; I Kings 8:56; John 16:33; Proverbs 15:29)
Well. Is He? Caught in the middle of your crisis, overwhelmed by your cares, stuck in your untenable circumstances, does your faith hold that Jesus is enough? Beyond even the tiniest shadow of a doubt? Do you believe He won’t let the waters swallow you? Do you believe that the space He’s called you to is also full of His presence? Do you know in your heart, believe in your head that Jesus is walking with you through the darkest valley as well as the brightest meadow? When it’s all said and done and you are looking back on this moment, examining all the ways God moved and worked to bring about His best for you, will you rejoice in the fact that you kept the faith or will you be forced to ask yourself the question Jesus asked Peter, “Why did you doubt?” (Psalm 23; Matthew 21:21; Isaiah 43:2; Romans 8:28)
Amen!! Our Pastor just preached about this on Sunday.