Peter's Walk

The day that would change the course of the rest of my life began like any other day. And I’m not talking about the day Jesus of Nazareth first called me to follow Him, though if it wasn’t for that day, I would never have experienced the events I’m about to relate. This was the day that I started to change from a timid follower into a faithful disciple. Allow me to explain.

The day had started like any other. I woke up, drank some milk, kissed my wife goodbye, and went out to meet Jesus, as I’d done every morning since He’d first called me away from my fishing business. We walked around Galilee, following closely behind Jesus as He spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, answered queries from strangers, dodged tests from Pharisees, ate meals with sinners, healed people who asked him for healing, and forgave peoples’ sin. None of it was unusual for a day in the life of a disciple.

Things changed when a messenger came from the Essenes. Jesus’ cousin, John, who had lived out in the wilderness under rigorous conditions with their sect, had been executed by Herod. John had been preaching about repentance, was always dressed in a camel’s hair garment, eating locusts and honey—which didn’t do much for his case—and was baptizing people in the Jordan River for forgiveness of sins when he had been arrested and thrown in jail by Herod’s soldiers. Word on the street was that he had been accusing Herod of an immoral relationship. But now the news was out that he had been executed. Jesus didn’t take the news of his death very well, but none of us twelve blamed Him for that, though Iscariot did mutter something to me under his breath about how Jesus should grow up; “everyone dies,” he’d said.

It was at this point that Jesus decided He needed to get away from the crowds, so He called on John and James, Andrew and me to prepare a boat to take across the Sea of Galilee.

We prepared the craft quickly, raising the sail, raising the oars, and raising our eyes and voices to heaven asking Adonai to grant us a safe voyage across the sea. I noticed storm clouds forming over the surrounding mountains as we were crossing the halfway point, but thought nothing of it, because Jesus was in the boat with us. He’d calmed a storm for us before; if one came up today, it would be no different. But no storm came up, and after about an hour of sailing, we were on the opposite side of the sea.

So were the crowds. Somehow they had beaten us there, and as soon as Jesus’ foot crossed from the boat to the shore, the needy people were standing there asking for favors. I attempted to tell them to come again some other time, but Jesus told me not to, because He had no qualms about helping them. He reminded us that this was why He had come. So we all got out of the boat, and decided to help bring the lame and guide the blind to Jesus in order to be healed. For five hours we did this, and finally the sun was approaching the horizon.

I was tired. I wanted to eat dinner, maybe hear a story or two from Jesus, get a good teaching on the Torah from Him, and go home to be with my wife. So, I approached Him, taking Andrew, Thomas, and Judas along with me, and told Him, “This place is a wilderness, and the time for the evening meal has already passed. Send the crowds away so they can go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”

Jesus responded as only He could. “They don’t need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

I was taken aback. Who does He think I am? I’m certainly not Adonai. He told us to pray, “Give us today our daily bread,” and now He wants me to give them their daily bread? I was dumbfounded. All I said, though, was, “We only have five loaves and two fish here.”

“Bring them here to Me,” Jesus said.

I handed them over to Jesus, and, beginning with that, I had no clue that the next twelve hours of my life would be one of the most intense sets of twelve hours in my entire life. Jesus proceeded to instruct the large crowd on how to gather around on the grass. Then, He looked up to heaven, blessed the food in Adonai’s name, broke it into pieces and gave the pieces to us twelve to pass out to the people. As He broke off the small lump of bread and handed it to me, I couldn’t believe the idiocy of what I was being asked to do. There was no possible way that this would feed everyone, let alone one-twelfth of everyone. But I did as I was told, and broke pieces off to give to everyone. By the time I’d passed out my section of the loaf, I’d handed pieces to more people than I could count, and I wasn’t giving skimpy amounts either. I broke off part of it, handed it out, broke off another chunk, handed it out, broke off another chunk, handed it out, as did the other eleven of us, and by the time we ran out and returned to Jesus, everyone had received food.

I spoke first, “How’d that happen?”

Jesus replied, “You’ve seen nothing yet, Simon.”

It was true. After everyone ate, Jesus sent us out to gather leftovers. We came back with twelve large basketfuls; one for each of us. It made no sense, but I had no time to question it before Jesus told us to get in the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, yet again.

We obeyed. We were all still completely dumbstruck about the bread, and we conversed about it as we prepared the boat for the return voyage to Gennesaret. I felt better knowing that I wasn’t the only one who was amazed that food had multiplied the way it had; it proved I wasn’t dreaming. But as we set out on the sea for the return home, any great dream the food episode might have been was forgotten by the nightmare that was about to strike in the figure of a storm at sea.

The trip started well. The darkness was heavy, barely pierced at all by the small lantern at the prow, but I was a fisherman. This was my life. My brother Andrew, and John and James were also fishermen. We lived on this sea. We’d spent many nights on this sea. We’d sailed it many times. We knew where the best fishing spots were. If anyone had a question about this sea, we were the go-to guys. And I, as the oldest, was the leader. But Jesus’ words after handing out the bread and fish stuck with me: “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

The thought snapped me back to reality. I looked up at the sky and noticed not a star in sight. That’s when I heard my brother holler, “I just felt rain. Prepare for a storm.” Then I felt a drop as well. It was followed by many more. Why did Jesus send us off alone? I wondered. Then the wind struck the mast, resulting in a tearing sound. “I’ll have to replace that now,” I said to myself, cursing that I didn’t know where the money was going to come from to pay for it. The wind kept blowing, the rain kept falling, and then the first wave crashed over the side.

There we were, trapped on a boat—eighteen cubits long by five cubits wide—totally at the mercy of the wind and waves. The rain poured down as Andrew and I pulled the broken sail down and stowed it under the bed upon which Jesus had slept the last time we were in this predicament. The sight again reminded me that He was gone. I felt betrayed. But there was no time to think about that at the moment. All of the disciples minus Iscariot, Thomas, Matthew, and me picked up oars, and sat down in the puddles that were forming from the storm, and began to row.

It was crazy outside. The winds were blowing hurricane force winds; the waves were churning our ship up and down in the water like a milkmaid churning butter. We all thought we were going to die. The darkness outside didn’t help either; the only light came from the small lantern on the prow, and I wondered to myself just how long it would be before that lantern was snuffed out by the wind or waves. My questions were answered as another set of waves crashed on the deck, flooded the top, smothered our light, and soaked down onto the rowers below. No one was happy, and we all began praying to Adonai to rescue us from this certain death.

*          *          *

After several hours of the same, nerves were at the breaking point. Thomas, Iscariot, Matthew, and I were all complaining that Jesus had certainly called us to follow Him just so we would die on this stupid body of water. Cries of complaint came from the rowers who were soaked to the bone, cold, and frightened, and I had to remind them repeatedly, “We’re no better off.”

Andrew specifically called me once, “Simon, is it really worth it for us to row against this storm? We’re just wearing ourselves out.”

I didn’t want to agree with him, but he was right. This storm had us trapped. We’d be lucky to survive, let alone make any progress before the storm ended. I kept my mouth shut though, simply reminding him, “We’re no better off.”

That was when I spied something in the distance. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, given the churning waves, spray from the waves, falling rain, and utter darkness. I kept looking and it began to come into focus. It was a blacker spot against an already black background. I didn’t have a clue what it could be, so I called Matthew over to me. He looked in the direction I pointed, and conveyed the same sense of confusion I had expressed. We didn’t know what it was. It was definitely getting larger though, regardless of what it was.

I told the rowers to stop rowing, and they hurriedly obeyed. When they had stowed their oars and reached me, I urged them to look in the direction of the figure. They obliged.

Leave it to my little brother to say something stupid, but he was the first to speak. “I think I know what that is,” his voice started to shake. “I heard some soldiers talking one day about phantoms that can walk around and kill people.” He paused, gulped, and continued, “It’s a phantom!”

It caused everyone on the boat to break out in a panic. “It’s a phantom! We’re all going to die!” If I’m honest, I was screaming just as much as everyone else. “We’re doomed. The phantom will destroy us all.” Never mind that the wind, waves, and rain were more likely to kill us all, though they were all but forgotten amidst the excitement of the new observation.

That’s when it happened. The phantom spoke. And when it spoke, I recognized His voice. “Be courageous. I am. Have no fear.” It was Jesus, but it was what He said between the first and last sentences that gave me pause. “I am.”

Not, “I am here,” but just the plain and simple, “I am.” It brought to mind what I had learned in the synagogue on the Sabbath growing up as a good Jewish boy. When Moses met Adonai at the burning bush, he asked Him, “Who should I say sent me?” Adonai replied, “Tell the Israelites, ‘I AM sent you.’” If I wasn’t mistaken, Jesus had just claimed to be Adonai, and there He was, walking on the water.

I wasn’t the only one who realized it was Jesus either, because all twelve of us on the deck of the ship looking out into the distance had clearly understood what He had said. We had completely forgotten the storm amidst shouts of, “It’s Jesus,” “He’s come for us,” “He really does care,” ringing out all around the boat. My brother shed some light on the situation again. “I heard the soldiers also say that only deities can walk on water; are you sure that’s Jesus?”

“What do centurions know?” the Zealot replied.

“I would cast a lot that He’s standing on a log,” Thomas quipped.

I had to agree with the Zealot over Thomas. Soldiers are a bunch of numbskull freaks wearing armor, living for Caesar, hurting our people, who have been hit in the helmet once too many times with a sword or shield to know what they are talking about. I decided to make my opinion known to my fellows in the boat. “I promise you that that’s Jesus, and I promise that He is simply walking on the water.”

The boat grew silent. No one said anything for several seconds. The figure in the distance standing on the water still stood there, dark against the darkness of the water and sky. Then Andrew spoke. “Okay, Simon. If you’re so confident that that really is Jesus, prove it. Don’t be a Pharisee. Do something about it.”

So I did. I called out to Jesus. “Lord, since I believe that it is You, command me to come to You on the water.” It was out before I could stop myself. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, Jesus did crazy stuff; of course He can walk on water. But me?  There’s nothing in me to enable me to walk on water, just like there was nothing in the pigs at Gergesa to prevent their drowning in the sea when the demons fled into them. I hoped beyond hope that Jesus would see my faith and not call me on it.

But it was not to be that way. As I’ve learned in the days since that day, faith is worthless if it’s just something spoken; faith has to work itself out in action as well. That’s why Jesus proceeded to say, “Come.”

It was a simple, one word command. And when Jesus commands something, I must go. So I did. I knew I could do this. I multiplied fish and bread earlier by Jesus’ enablement. So I jumped over the side, keeping my gaze planted on Jesus, and when my feet hit the water, they didn’t sink. They didn’t sink at all. It was like jumping off the boat onto shore after a day of fishing. I couldn’t believe it.

Things like this don’t happen. My wife would never believe that I walked on the sea. Humans don’t walk on the sea, but here were two humans—Jesus and myself—walking on the sea. I took a step toward Jesus; I still felt like I was on dry ground. I took another step; no difference. I took another step; Jesus was getting closer; before too many more steps, I’d be able to reach out and touch Him.

A wave crashed over me, and my mind was instantly jerked back to the storm surrounding me. The water was not calm, even where I was walking. Waves had been lapping over my feet the whole time since I’d stepped out of the boat. I hadn’t paid it any mind until the huge swell crashed over me. The wind was blowing.

Jesus was still fathoms away from me, walking calmly towards me, as if nothing was going wrong. I actually noticed huge waves rushing toward Him simply vanishing, as if they were bowing before Him. It upset me that He was untouched by the waves, but they were crashing over me. I was totally at their mercy.

Now that I was soaked, the wind chilled me to the bone. I glanced back to the boat, and they were still staring out towards me. I heard someone yell, “He’s sinking,” and that’s when I realized the water was up to my waist. Then it was at my neck. I started flailing in the water, not knowing what I should do. My mind flew back to a psalm I had learned as a child, so I cried out, “Save me, Lord. For the water has risen to my neck.”

That’s when I felt Jesus’ hand touch my shoulder. He had knelt completely down, reached His arm under the water, and grabbed my shoulder with His hand. He pulled me up with His carpenter-strong arm, and as I stood next to Him on the water, not sinking, I felt like a fool. I was such a foolish disciple. I was the most unworthy. I was the one whose faith and trust were tested, and I was the one who failed. As long as I’d looked at Him, I was doing fine; as soon as my gaze moved off Him and onto my situation, I was sinking in the water. I knew for certain that I’d hear a reprimand from my Master.

As I stood next to Him, I thought of all the ways I’d answer the reprimand that was surely coming from Him. I figured I could argue that I at least tried to follow Him out on the water; no one else had. I figured I could argue that I was perfectly content to be under the water; fish live there, so it would be an adventure. I figured I could argue that it had been a long day, and all I really wanted was sleep; if I had been more awake, I could have focused better on Jesus.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and preempt His reprimand, He beat me to it. Our eyes met as He asked, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” His eyes weren’t accusatory, but rather understanding. Full of understanding. It was the same look He gave me the other fateful early morning when we were together, yet apart; the day I denied Him three times before He was crucified, after assuring Him that I would never leave Him. And just like that day, and that look, His gaze and His question crushed any opposition inside me.

I had no response to speak. Rather we walked silently back as I just stared at Him. It was as if He intimately understood me. He didn’t say, “You’re an idiot for not having more faith!” He didn’t say, “I hate your lack of faith.” He simply asked, “Why did you doubt?” as if to get me to search out my motivations.

Doubt has always been my biggest struggle. It led me to fear. It led me to lies. It led me to violence. It led me to denial of the greatest Person I have ever known, the greatest Person who has ever known me. But He never gave up on me; even after this sinking incident, He took me by the hand, set me back on my feet, and later said that I was blessed for knowing that He was the Messiah. What’s better than hearing from Jesus’ own mouth that you are blessed?

But as we walked the rest of the way to the boat that morning, in silence, I was awed by Jesus. I didn’t know what to say or do, except to keep my eyes on Him. I could hear the wind. I could feel the waves. I could hear the others in the boat, but I paid them no attention. Jesus was walking with me. He cared for me, even though I often failed Him, and would continue to do so—and still do.

My excuses for failing to walk well seemed so pathetic in the presence of Jesus. It didn’t matter what others did; what I did was what I was responsible for. Of course I don’t want to be a fish; am I stupid? My exhaustion was no excuse, though I often resorted to that excuse; Jesus deserved my everything. I once told Jesus, speaking for all of the twelve, that we’d left everything to follow Him; I knew that I certainly hadn’t left my sleep to follow Him, so what a bold, arrogant assumption that had been.

And He could have let me drown in my failure, but He didn’t. He knelt down and lifted me out. He humbled Himself, lowering Himself down upon the raging waves to pull me back onto my feet. It reminds me of the fact that He humbled Himself to become a man at all. I hadn’t completely understood it at the time, but Adonai Himself had been walking on the water that day. My little brother had been right; a deity had been walking on the water. And it humbles me to think that He saw me important enough in His eyes to give me the honor of participating with Him in His power.

We clambered back into the boat, and I couldn’t bring myself to stand. I flopped onto my back and gazed up at the dark sky as rain smacked me in the face. I was exhausted. Being awake since sunrise the day before had taken its toll. In addition, my experience on the Sea with the Lord of the Sea left me empty. The emotions that went into that moment were more than I could handle, and they left me exhausted. I closed my eyes.

Cries jolted me back to alertness. The realization of Jesus’ presence, Jesus’ power, and my experience had worn off the people in the boat, and the water level inside was still rising. The wind whipped around, waves crashed, men cried out to Jesus and Adonai simultaneously. It was chaos. A dead person couldn’t sleep through it.

And then, just like that, the rain stopped, wind stopped, and the waves grew calm. The only thing that continued for a few seconds afterwards was the cries of the men in the boat. They soon ceased as well, as the clouds disappeared, and the glow of the sunrise in the east started to show over the mountains.

What happened next was amazing. It was totally unexpected, but looking back it was exactly what needed to happen. And, it’s a good thing only us twelve and Jesus were in the boat, because if the Pharisees had seen what happened, they would have hounded Jesus a lot harder.

It started as I turned from my back onto my front—still laying in a puddle of water—and looked ahead of me. Jesus was standing there, His eyes gazing down at me. I don’t know what caused me to do it, but I drew my knees under my chest—assuming a kneeling, prostrate position—and stretched my hands out to Jesus. “Truly You are the Son of God,” I said. “Thank You for saving me from the waves. Thank You for calling me to trust You. Help me to trust You better in the future. I just want to be a worthy follower.”

I was too caught up in the moment and too caught up in my own praise to worry about what the others were doing or saying, but all around I heard splashes (as if they were falling to their knees) and the phrase, “Truly You are the Son of God.”

It was a day I’ll never forget. The day that changed me from a timid follower into a faithful disciple.

*          *          *

“But Peter, sir,” the young man began, “how did that event change you into a faithful follower. You were unfaithful later, when you denied Christ. You’ve told me that yourself in many sermons since I joined your faith fellowship.” The young man had dark brown hair and eager eyes, wore a grey toga, and sat cross-legged on the floor (with a writing tablet and ink on his lap) at the feet of an older man.

The older man spoke. “Mark, my son, would you consider yourself faithful to Jesus?”

“Yes,” came the instant reply.

“As would I consider you to be,” Peter said, pausing. “But, would you not also admit to having deserted Paul’s ministry early on?”

Hesitant to respond, he answered, “Yes,” as his face grew somber.

Peter pulled on his greying beard as he spoke. “Faithfulness is not seen in light of perfection. It is seen in light of pattern. Your pattern has been faithfulness. Faithfulness to Christ, faithfulness to me, and hopefully one day renewed faithfulness to our brother Paul as well. In my case, I did deny Christ in His moment of greatest temptation, but so did Judas. And while I hate comparing myself to anyone but our Lord, it is important to recognize the difference between Judas and myself. Judas hung himself; I was restored and continued with Jesus, and still continue with Jesus to this day.”

“I understand, sir. It’s quite a remarkable difference, and a very good point to remember. Thank you.” He paused, before looking at the writing materials on his lap, and then asked, “So how should I write this episode for my relation of Jesus’ life?”

“The first thing to do is make sure to leave out any personal details about me. I don’t want this to be Peter’s story; I want it to be Jesus’ story. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Mark then began writing. Several minutes later, Mark said, “I’ve got it. Let me read it to you:

‘The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to Him all that they had done and taught.

He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a remote place and rest for a while.” For many people were coming and going, and they did not even have time to eat.

So they went away in the boat by themselves to a remote place, but many saw them leaving and recognized them. People ran there by land from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. So as He stepped ashore, He saw a huge crowd and had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. Then He began to teach them many things.

When it was already late, His disciples approached Him and said, “This place is a wilderness, and it is already late! Send them away, so they can go into the surrounding countryside and villages to buy themselves something to eat.”

“You give them something to eat,” He responded.

They said to Him, “Should we go and buy 200 denarii worth of bread and give them something to eat?”

And He asked them, “How many loaves do you have? Go look.”

When they found out they said, “Five, and two fish.”

Then He instructed them to have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in ranks of hundreds and fifties. Then He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, He blessed and broke the loaves. He kept giving them to His disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. Everyone ate and was filled. Then they picked up 12 baskets full of pieces of bread and fish. Now those who ate the loaves were 5,000 men.

Immediately He made His disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, to Bethsaida, while He dismissed the crowd. After He said good-bye to them, He went away to the mountain to pray. When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the sea, and He was alone on the land. He saw them being battered as they rowed, because the wind was against them.

Around three in the morning He came toward them walking on the sea and wanted to pass by them.

When they saw Him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw Him and were terrified.

Immediately He spoke with them and said, “Have courage! I am. Don’t be afraid.”

Then He got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. They were completely astounded.’ ”

Mark waited a second before speaking again. “How does that sound?”

Peter’s voice quaked as he spoke. “That sounds very good, my son. My name didn’t even come up once. Just as it should be. Thank you.” He paused, closed his eyes, and a minute later spoke again. “That writing will impact many people. The Spirit of Christ will certainly use it for His glory.”

Mark was silent.

Peter was silent too.

Then Mark spoke again. “So what happened next in your encounter with Jesus?”