Come

Three o'clock one morning a man named Peter found himself, along with his eleven friends, aboard a small boat in the middle of a lake, far from any shore, battling heavy waves and terrible winds.

Suddenly a figure came walking across the tossing waves toward the men in the boat, and all twelve of them were absolutely terrified. I don't blame them. I would be too. At three o'clock in the morning, in the middle of a lake, in the middle of a storm.

In their fear, they cried out, “It’s a ghost!”

But Jesus spoke to them at once. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Take courage. I am here!”

Then Peter called to him, 

“Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you, 

walking on the water.”

“Yes, come,” Jesus said.

Peter wanted so badly to have faith. I can relate to this guy in more ways than one. He spoke out loud to that dark eerie figure, when all the fears in his head were probably telling him the opposite. He asked for direction, he asked for hard. Jesus said "Take courage, I am here!" 

Jesus said "Come." 

Just come. Just step out of that boat and walk to me. Ignore those fears. I'm more than a shadow or a figment of your imagination. Come to my arms. Just come.

So Peter did. He climbed over the side of that boat onto the dark, pitching waters, and he walked on the water. HE WALKED ON THE WATER! 

Peter stepped out of that familiar fishing boat where he'd spent years of his life, onto the water he'd only ever touched, swam in, been controlled by; and he walked right over it. Walked. On water.

But then he saw the strong winds and the waves. Out there in the middle of the lake, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the storm, walking on water, away from the boat, Peter took his eyes off Jesus and looked at the waves around his feet. He felt the icy breath of fear breath down his neck in all that wind, and he listened to it. That voice that whispers "You're not going to make it this time; you're going to drown." that voice that steals all the joy right out of doing the impossible. That voice that says "You can't walk on water!" while you're walking on water.

And he was terrified. Terrified.

And I don't blame him. If you listen to fear in the dark, it's terrifying.

If you look away from Jesus to the angry waves of your storm, to the strong winds that whips the water into your eyes, you're bound to be terrified.

Peter started to sink. His feet began to slip into the waters. “Save me, Lord!” he shouted.

Jesus immediately reached out and grabbed him. Just like He said, He was right there.

“You have so little faith,” Jesus said. “Why did you doubt me?”
All He had said to Peter was "Don't be afraid. Take courage. I am here. Come." But that's all Peter needed to know. Don't be afraid, even when you want to be. Take the courage I'm giving you. Courage: the ability to do something that frightens you. I am here. I'm stronger than the waves, I'm able to keep you above the water, I want to see you through this storm, you're not alone, I didn't leave you, I love you: I am here. Come.

And all Peter did wrong was doubt. He looked at the waves and the wind, and he listened to the fear that said "Jesus can't hold you up" while Jesus was holding him up. And that's where everything went wrong.

But I get that.

There was once a girl who found herself in a bit of a night season of life. All the safe and the lovely and the happy in her days became tainted with a certain darkness of impending doom. She was listening to the voice that says "It's not going to be okay. You need to be afraid."
The wind started picking up, a storm brewing in her mind, so that all the struggles she'd been facing began to swell and pitch and toss like waves; seeming bigger than they'd ever been before.
And there she sat, in that boat of familiarity, her comfort zone, but nothing was comfortable anymore. She longed to have real faith, overcome what held her back, and do great things, but that wind howled forebodingly and her safe place no longer felt safe. She was terrified.
That girl was me.

Fear has a way of robbing us of so much in life.

And then He held out His strong, gracious hand to me, beckoning me to leave the fears and worry behind, and He said "Come."

Just come. Just step out of that prison-of-a-boat and walk to me. Ignore those lies. Ignore those headlines and those what-if's. I'm more than a shadow or a figment of your imagination. These waves are nothing beneath my feet. Let me show you the way to really live. Come to my arms. Just come.

It sounds so simple. It sounds so inviting! It sounds so glorious and victorious and...

And it can seem so impossibly out of reach. Because it involves getting out of the boat. Stepping directly into the tossing, swirling, wretchedly-dark things we fear and saying, 

I'm not even looking at you, waves; I'm looking at Jesus. 
Jesus is bigger, stronger, REALer, TRUEer than you, fears.

I'm taking the courage He's offering: the ability to do what frightens me; and I'm walking.

Walking on water means first saying "I trust you, Jesus, that you can hold me up. That you can guard my life. That because of your great love I am not consumed. That you delight to show Yourself strong on my behalf."

I long to have faith. I long to do great things. But perhaps the greatest thing I can do right now, right in this very moment, is to get out of this boat. To believe Him. To say goodbye to the pitching and the rolling of a life spent confined in a vessel that's stranded in the middle of stormy waters, and step on the lies; step right out on top of them, and to quit listening to the voice that says "There's nothing you can do about it, your fears are real. Logical. Legitimate. You need to be afraid." 

To quit listening to that voice that whispers as I take the first step "You're not going to make it this time; you're going to drown." that voice that steals all the joy right out of doing the impossible. That voice that says "You can't walk on water!" while I'm walking on water.

The most courageous thing I can do right now is stop listening to the lies, and start listening to the Truth. To start believing the Voice of Truth with all my inmost being. To walk by faith.

Quite honestly? It's making me sick. All the tossing back and forth of fears and thoughts and anxious worries are making me a kind of seasick in my mind and I'm missing out on all the joy and peace of walking on water with Jesus across frothy surf in the invigorating wind.

Jesus didn't lift Peter out of the boat, he just invited him to come. Peter had to choose to trust Jesus with his life and well-being, and climb out of the boat by faith. My fears have kept me from a good night's sleep many times, from sharing the love of Jesus, from just living day-to-day life in peace and joy. All the while Jesus has patiently, lovingly held out His strong, gracious hand to me, beckoning me to leave the fears and worry behind. He simply says "Come."

So I'm getting out. I'm so done with this boat. I'm done with these fears. I'm done with only having a little faith, and I'm done with doubt.

When Jesus says "Don't be afraid" I'm going to trust Him to help me.

When Jesus says "Take courage." I'm taking courage.

When Jesus says "I'm here." He's here and that's all I need to know and I'm resting in that.

When Jesus says "Come." I'm going to step out of this boat that's held me captive for so long, and I'm going to walk right over those immense depths to Him. And I'm going to trust that He will do the things He said He will do.

And the waves are going to call my name.

The wind is going to howl and whip around me.

I can look at them, but I know what will happen. I will sink. I will be terrified.

Or I can look to Jesus, and I will be saved. And I will be held. And I will be victorious.

I get to choose. I get to trust Him to do what He says He will do. To be who He says He is.

So no more fear. No more listening to lies. No more tossing in the boat or drowning in the waves.

I'm looking to Jesus, and Jesus says "Come."

For who is God besides the Lord?

    And who is the Rock except our God?

It is God who arms me with strength

    and keeps my way secure.

 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;

    he causes me to stand on the heights.

Psalm 18:31-33

But I called on your name, Lord,

    from deep within the pit.

You heard me when I cried, “Listen to my pleading!

    Hear my cry for help!”

 Yes, you came when I called;

    you told me, “Do not fear.”

Lord, you have come to my defense;

    you have redeemed my life.

Lamentations 3:55-58