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Peace…

I took my position in the bow of the boat. It was just enough small to land that label rather than ship. It was roomy and convenient for fishing. A couple of the men hoisted the sail and we settled back for a cold sail across the sea. The sun had already dipped behind the mountains, the afterglow in the winter sky created an orange wash on our faces as we pushed off from the western shore toward Behtsaida, nestled on the northern shore of Yam Kenneret.

I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh, chilled air of the sea region. I smelled the fish and they smelled like money to me. We were heading to my home and I was looking forward to seeing my wife.

That fateful night, the afterglow did not last long upon the cold water. But we did not fear for the moon would rise shortly and full would be it’s face.

We had barely got into deep water when the wind flapped the sail. I cursed, then bit my tongue. I was done with those thoughts and those ways, yet they crept into my head at stressful times. It was hard trying to be good all the time. That Jesus… I told my brother he was Messiah. John had pointed to him and said, “Behold the Lamb who will take away the sins of the world.” My head knew it. My heart was having doubts. First one thing and then another, he would say one thing and the Pharisees would twist his words and the sad thing is, they were making a great deal of sense. But then, so did the Messiah. I was stilling trying to understand how a body could lay down his life to save it or desiring to save his life will lose it and the one who loses his life will save it. Oi veh! My poor fisherman’s brain could not wrap around it.

Excuse me a moment while I tend this sail. I want your trip to be smooth so you can better hear my story. The wind is so contrary as it blows one way and then another. It’s the winter gusts we must be wary of and this storm is giving all the signs of a gale. The conditions you see now are just like what happened that night in the beginning. I say, look at those scudding clouds. We best head bact to shore, for I would not want you to be distressed this eventide. No, no. Sit down; no need for oars for we’ll be to shore in a matter of moments.

Now then, where was I? Oh, yes, I had just taken my position on the bow of the boat. I had confessed to you that my heart was akin to the winter winds across the Yam Kenneret. Sea of Galilee, as you know it. Afternoon had just rested when the Master urged us to the boat and bid us across to the other side. A few hours passed and it seemed we were making no headway at all. It was only seven miles across: a short afternoon sail or perhaps a half day’s row depending on how many oars were manned. But, this night, it seemed we worked more against the wind than with the wind. It was so contrary, we lowered the almost useless sail and took to the oars. I was marking the time so we could be in stroke which is why I was in the bow and why I was the navigator as well.

Dark clouds raced across the sky. For a time, they were spaced far enough apart we could keep our bearings. Then they closed in around the moon, like a veil drawn across a beautiful woman’s face; one moment glorious light and the next dark pitch. Then the wind gusted hard from the North, the waves pounded the bow sending up sprays of water at regular intervals. That lasted for less than an hour. Suddenly the wind shifted quarters and it was blowing harder from the east. This shifting wind stirred up our little sea and we were being tossed about like a child’s ball.

The waves pitched our little boat into the air, I gauged about twenty cubits. At each peak the shore to the west looked no closer than the shore to the north east. Soon we had to ship the oars and hang on for our very lives. The sea became cantankerous, sucking at the boat to pull it under. Veterans of the sea we were, but this storm was the worst we had ever seen. Soon, the waves were thirty cubits if they were an inch; that is no fisherman’s lie. The water was so cold and the wind was colder as it whipped sea spray into our faces and cloaks. We may as well had taken to swimming across, as wet as we were. But that would never have done. We would have died in that water in just a few minutes. Oy, I have seen grown men, fishing in waters that cold and fall in while dragging in nets. They were dead before they were found to be missing. Nothing could bring them back from that freezing death.

I rolled my shoulders to release the strain of tension. Not much good it did because of the death grip I had on the sides of the boat. I know I left indents the size of my fingers on either side of the bow. Up the side of one giant wave we traveled then down the steep slope of the other side. As we reached the summit of the watery mountain, we’d pitch side to side, taking on a dangerous amount of water; our knees awash with the cold stream and faces frozen into masks of terror. Then we careened down, sloshing a bit of water out one side while taking on more water from the other side. At the bottom of each deep trench, we had tipped over far enough for the water to drain out the port side leaving us ankle deep in water, only to start the whole travail again as we staggered up the side of the next giant wave. We had just a matter of minutes before capsizing.

I saw something in the distance and decided to keep my eye on it in order gauge our position. Surely we had traveled farther than what it appeared. It seemed we were held by some anchor in the middle of the sea. The wind swirling around us, yet our position held steady. It was odd, but not odd enough to lighten my fear. I could see the horror etched on each face. These men I had walked with and talked with and laughed with were now sharing the same fear. We were sure we were going to die.

Careful now where you step, the dock is slippery in this rain. Here, give me your hand. Up you go… and now you. This is a fine catch of fish, you have. Shall I clean them for you? I am delighted to do so, and you can hear the rest of my story while I teach you the Andrew method of cleaning fish. Oh, sorry, did I slap your back too hard? Sometimes I forget my own strength.

That night, we had no strength. Our bellies melted with fear. I could tell we were making a slight headway because that single point I was watching when we made it to the peak of each wave, had moved a bit to port and had gotten a good deal closer. It seemed to me we would not make Bethsaida this night.

It was the fourth watch of night. In no way could we sleep with the storm throwing cold water in our faces. I was shocked out of my fear when the boat topped the next peak, I saw Jesus walking toward us. At my scream, the others turned to see and some exclaimed it was a ghost. I knew it was Jesus, but my throat was closed so tight, not even a squeak could make it out of my mouth.

He said, “Be comforted. I AM. Do not fear.”

My brother, foolhardy that day as he was in his youth, leaned over the side of the boat and cried out, “Lord, if it really is You, then command me to come to You on the waters.”

If it were possible, my jaw dropped even lower. Only choking on the sea spray made me close my mouth, for Jesus did so command. Just like the flash of summer lightening, Peter was out of the boat and walking toward our Lord. We were stunned.

I can see by the looks on your faces you think I am lying.

I tell you the truth, my brother walked upon those towering waves toward Jesus. Then he began to sink. He told me later that he had, at first, only had eyes for Jesus, but then he felt the storm, the giant waves, the cold wind and he lost sight of the power which held him up. Jesus quickly stretched out and grabbed Peter and said, “Little-faith, why did you doubt?” Then He helped Peter into the boat and once Himself was in the boat, the wind ceased and the waves were calm. No gesture from Him. No words fell from His lips. Calm waters like that of a summer afternoon proved the elements obeyed His silent will!

Only one other time had we seen anything like that. Jesus rebuked the wind, then, “Peace! Be still!” At His first word, the waves settled into glass-like calm and the wind ceased like someone had shut the door upon it. That time we wondered who He was that the elements obeyed His voice. This time, I could not help myself. My knees buckled and I fell on my face, worshiping the Son of God. At that moment I knew beyond doubt that He was Who He said He was.

I did not understand the miracle of the loaves. I was blind and my heart was like a stony ground. But, when that wind cut off… when those giant waves became instantly like glass… when the moon’s face glowed upon the head of the Lord… I knew who He was.

However, I am ashamed to admit that I did not fully understand all the implications of that day. I was so stupid that when the true storm hit and the very real danger exploded into our lives tearing Jesus from our midst and those lies and deceptions of the Pharisees put Jesus on the cross, I ran just as if I had sunk into the depths of the sea all the way to the bottom. We all scattered. We failed Him. And yet, that glorious morning, He let us know beyond doubt that He forgave us. That, my friend, is peace.

You do not see it? Oh, excuse me! I did not mean to swing the blade so close to your nose. Please forgive me. Take the blade and scrape the scales like this. Yes. You have it now. Do not miss one, they are quite sharp in the mouth.

Let me explain the implications to you.

All the Disciples that Jesus had chosen to follow Him were in that boat. Do you suppose that He would allow anything to cause us harm? Do you suppose that since He could calm the waves and shut off the wind with a single breath from His mouth that He would allow us to suffer that storm unto death? Pah! Decidedly not. It was a lesson, a test, a travail. We had eyes only for the storm. The Lord has eyes for us.

In the desert, He is there. In the wilderness, He is there. Whether He is on the mountain praying, He is watching you in the storm and He is always within reach. His is the power of bara, creation from nothing. Through Him all things were created. How can the wind not obey His voice? How can the sea not submit to His will? The storms will always come, but He is ever constant. Raging torrents of trials and tribulations have no power over those whom love the Lord. That, my friends, is Peace.

I offer this peace to you. You know how to fish now. You will never starve. Know this, if you believe in Jesus, you will never go hungry and never be thirsty. The storms will come, yes, but there will always be peace in your heart.

Psalm 4:8 I will both lie down in peace and sleep; for You alone, O Jehovah, make me dwell in safety.

"Today's Little Lift" from Jim Bullington

Mercy and not Sacrifice (Sept. 30, 2010)