When I Am Like Peter.

I suddenly felt like Peter. 

I had asked the Lord to tell me to step out, and he called me out upon the water. I felt the thrill of the miraculous - but then I glanced away. My steps faltered, froze, then my feet started thrashing as suddenly I plunged into the water and waves crashed over me. I coughed and sputtered, my eyes stung. The wind howled and swept away the shouts of my friends in the boat,  moments ago mere steps away, now unreachable. As I struggled to keep my head above the water, I turned back to them for help - surely they would toss a rope or row over to me. But to my surprise, they were preoccupied with keeping the boat afloat, saving their own lives - though some seemed to be shouting to the man behind me. 

I, of all people, ought to be able to survive this. I who have been a fisherman my whole life, who swam nearly as soon as I could walk. I, who love the water and the wind and the rain, who survived storm after storm. I should be able to handle this.

But I couldn't. And just as desperation seized me, and I cried out "Lord! Save me!" a hand grasped firmly mine, and he who had called me out pulled me up. "O you of little faith, why do you doubt?"

Was that a spark of amusement in his eyes? Sorrow coating his voice? Perhaps a mixture of both. For to him, it is such a small matter, and he knows all will be fine. Not mockery in his smile, but wistfulness and love. "Oh little child, if only you knew." I know he wants me to believe and trust, and my fear and doubt and subsequent pain saddens him. 

When my nephew was only a few months old, he would cry and cry and cry. I would sing, trying to soothe and distract him, the words slightly different each time.

"Baby Patrick, Baby Patrick, I know your tummy hurts, that's so sad. 

 Baby Patrick, Baby Patrick, I hate to see you mad.

 Baby Patrick, Baby Patrick, you wouldn't be so blue,

 Baby Patrick, Baby Patrick, if you knew how I loved you."

If only he could understand how very loved he was, his fears and pain might dissipate. If only we could understand the magnitude of God's love, we might be more willing to trust.

No matter how skilled I am at "swimming," no matter the experience I have cultivated through my past in missions, I must rely on faith moment by moment. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the certainty of things unseen. I must seek the assurance and certainty that Christ is who he says he is and will accomplish what he said he will, that which he called me to. If he says to come walk on the water, he will enable me to do so - not by my power or skill, but by his. 

After all, his power is made perfect in my weakness.