He Will Reach Out His Hand

Jesus has just fed over 5,000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish. He sends his disciples in a boat to the other side of the lake while he goes into the mountains to pray (Matt. 14:22-33).

By evening, Jesus is alone on land, and the boat is a long way off. John’s account tells us that those in the boat had rowed three or four miles out. The wind is against them, and the boat is being beaten by waves. Mark says they were “making headway painfully.” The word translated beaten in one account, and painfully in the other, comes from a Greek word that means, “An examination by torture, torment. To torture, afflict with pain, vex, harass.” Now that’s a contrary wind!

Many of the men in the boat are experienced fishermen. There is nothing here to indicate that they are afraid for their lives, as there is in the previous story of Jesus sleeping during a storm. However, it isn’t until the fourth watch of the night that Jesus comes to them. That’s between 3 and 6 a.m. They have been struggling in the dark against the elements for several hours. They are working together, but they have absolutely no control over the situation and no idea how long it will last.

By this time, are they wondering how long they can hold out, or who will be the first to give up. Are they spelling each other at the oars? Are they praying for daylight? They’ve seen proof upon proof of Jesus’ power, but are they wondering, nevertheless, about the wisdom of Jesus having sent them out? If only Jesus had known a storm was coming.

It is nearly morning when Jesus comes. But when he does come, he is obviously in control of the situation. This terrifies them, and rightfully so. Mark says they are utterly astounded. The words, translated, look like a string of superlatives. They are “very much, over and above, beside themselves.” They have no context for understanding what they are seeing. Jesus is walking on the sea! Since this is impossible, they must be seeing a ghost.

Jesus speaks to them immediately. He doesn’t leave them in suspense. He won’t be taken for something other than what he is. “Take heart,” he says. Why should they? “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

The I AM is here.

Of course, Peter has something to say. The more tense the situation, the more likely he seems to be to blurt something ill-considered. “If it’s you, command me to come to you on the water.” What in the world made him think of that test? Did he think, We’re all in here, petrified. Prove who you are by commanding me to do something even more terrifying and ridiculously impossible?

Jesus says, “Come.” In effect, Prove it to yourself.

So Peter does it. Obediently, he takes his own test. For a moment or two, he defies the laws of physics. But he quickly loses focus. Perhaps he starts analyzing the impossibility of the situation. His fear comes back in gusts, and nature overwhelms. “Reality” gets the better of him. But he retains enough presence of mind to know where his only help is; in the Ruler of nature. In the one he’s seen command the elements before. The one who has made a pocket full of simple food feed thousands, turned water to wine, demonstrated his power over incurable physical maladies, and exercised authority over demons.

“Lord, save me!”

Immediately Jesus reaches out his hand and takes hold of him. This is my favorite part. All Peter has to do is call on the Lord, the only person who can possibly help, and there is the hand of God reaching down, taking hold of him.

Jesus doesn’t hesitate to rescue, but he has a question for Peter: “Why did you doubt?”

Imagine the look on Peter’s face. Seriously, Jesus? As he drips and pants, Why did I doubt I could defy gravity?

When they get into the boat, the wind ceases.

John’s account says that “immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.”

It can’t have been too long since the incident of Jesus calming the storm. When Jesus rebuked the wind and the sea, the disciples said, “What sort of man is this that even winds and sea obey him?”

This time, “those in the boat worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’” Good call. Though we’re often tempted to wonder how the disciples could have been so dense, they ARE gaining a more complete picture of who it is they’ve committed their lives to.

Once again, Jesus has proven he is more than a man. “Truly you are the Son of God,” they say. Who else could this be?

Thinking about the disciples rowing and rowing against the wind with no relief in sight makes me think of how, to me, pain and suffering are much easier to endure when I have some idea how long they will last. I think of the birth of my first child. “Breathe, breathe, breathe! Relax!” I have been. For hours. I don’t know if I can hold out. I remember saying to my husband at one point, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” He didn’t have anything comforting to say. The process had to be finished somehow. But how long could I go on not knowing how long it would go on?

We’ve all been going through a difficult time of not knowing. We have heard . . . someone said . . . no one will tell us . . . To me, this is one of the most difficult parts of any ordeal. I can do day-to-day endurance. It’s not knowing that gets me down.

Throughout my life, Jesus has been revealing himself to me with as much patience as he exercised with the disciples. I have an idea that the tone of his, “Why did you doubt?” changes as I am supposed to mature. I have to cultivate my mustard-seed-sized faith, knowing how to call out, to reach out, to my only possible help. Jesus will reach out his hand and take hold of me. Truly, he is the Son of God.

Through the gift of a faithful mother and grandmother, Diane Pendergraft grew up knowing Jesus as a friend. Married for nearly two-thirds of her life, there has been time for several seasons, from homeschooling to owning a coffee shop. She has three grown children and eight grandchildren. An element of this season is writing about literature and life at Plumfield and Paideia.

Photograph © Hatham, used with permission