Lord, save me. This is Peter’s plea as he begins to sink, the waves overwhelming him, his courage and trust waning. Lord, save me. This is the gist of Elijah’s plea to God, on the run, in the solitude and silence of a mountain cave. Lord, save us. We join the chorus.
It’s no surprise that faced with the image of a raging storm out on open water, my thoughts go immediately to the storm that has been raging around us since March–not of wind or crashing waves, but a storm nonetheless; a silent, invasive, insidious storm–the novel coronavirus.
In ancient Hebrew tradition, the sea was a metaphor for chaos. Like a turbulent sea, chaos causes a feeling that the world is upside-down, and makes us realize we are no longer in control.
When we are surrounded by chaos, by the storms and rough waters of life, God’s presence can feel far from us. It can feel isolating, and God’s response to our predicament can sound like sheer silence, like nothing-ness, as Elijah and the disciples, who set out into the boat without their leader–can attest.
Jesus does finally appear, strolling on the water as if it was gently rolling sand, well after the disciples had started clinging for dear life, their boat battered by the waves. Perhaps due to the eerie early morning light, and the fact that he appeared to be walking on water, the disciples’ immediate thought was that they were seeing a ghost. If you strip away all the dramatic effects of this story, you are left with an important detail--one that will describe Jesus over and over again. Jesus approaches them. Jesus comes to them. Jesus senses their fear and their distress and out of death-defying compassion, he goes out to them, says “do not be afraid,” and saves them.
Jesus is always moving in our direction, coming to us, amidst the storms of life that rage around us. Jesus is always meeting us in our fear and our worry. Yet Peter can tell you, the tricky part is trusting that it’s really him. The tricky part is having faith God will be there to walk us through the impossible.
Sometimes I wonder what possessed Peter to get out of the boat and try walking toward Jesus. Like, wouldn’t you just want to stay in the boat and wait for Jesus to climb aboard? And yet, maybe it’s not so strange. He, like any of us, wants proof that Jesus is really there. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come out onto the water.” A bargain he immediately regrets. Because the wind picks up, the waves get bigger, and all he can think about is the fear of going under.
Peter’s walk out onto the water is deeply symbolic of our walk of faith. Trust, doubt, trust, doubt again. There are times we feel like we could do anything, even walk on water. Then there are times we feel like even the smallest waves will overwhelm us. There are times we have great faith. And there are times when God feels absent and silent, and we doubt God’s presence at all.
The best part about this story, is that even at his lowest, even when Peter has lost all faith and trust that Jesus will save him, Jesus reaches out and pulls him up out of the water. Even when we are feeling at our lowest, when the storms seem too much, when we’ve lost faith, when all we hear is silence, when we doubt that God is there, when all we can utter are the words, “Lord, save us,” God’s hand reaches out to catch us.
“It is I, take heart, do not be afraid.” Today, like the prophet Elijah, God calls us out of our caves of fear and despair. Like Peter, Jesus pulls us out of the stormy seas that threaten to overwhelm us. God restores our faith. “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news,” writes St. Paul in his letter to the Romans. God’s invitation is to go, and proclaim the good news that God’s saving presence is always closer and more powerful than we think.