Archives: Learning to Walk on Water
- Jul 16, 2018
- 6 min read
Note: This website was started in the early years of my Lyme journey, as a Christian's search for faith amidst chronic illness. While I have grown out of and beyond my beliefs in both the Chronic Lyme and Evangelical Christian spheres, I feel these old blogs are a testament to my journey, my growth, my healing, and my personhood. They are also part of my story which demands due respect, but I wanted to separate them from my current understanding of Self, Truth, and the message I want to endorse in the world. Please take this into consideration as you read, and a big grain of salt.
I remember when I was young, sitting on the edge of a swimming pool, resting my feet just on the surface of the water and thinking of the story of Peter in the boat.
“Immediately [Jesus] made the disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat by this time was a long way from the land, beaten by the waves, for the wind was against them. And in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, “It is a ghost!” and they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”
And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
And when they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret. And when the men of that place recognized him, they sent around to all that region and brought to him all who were sick and implored him that they might only touch the fringe of his garment. And as many as touched it were made well.”
How cool, I thought, would it be if I could just stand up right now and walk on the water across the swimming pool? Isn’t Jesus real? Don’t I have enough faith? Of course, I was musing; I didn’t dare test God with such frivolous attempts. It wasn’t necessary -- that's what faith meant -- and God is not a toy. Still, I wished, maybe even prayed, that I would have such a power.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, it has been given to me, and now I’m wishing it hadn’t. (Don’t play games with God, he’s got a wicked sense of humor.) Of course, I’m not speaking literally, but it certainly feels like it. I can feel the water flowing into my lungs (thanks, Babesia); I can hear the roar of the waves in my ears (that you, tinnitus?); I shiver with the strong wind (bless you, dysautonomia). But mostly I feel utterly weak and unable to swim in an ocean of despair, fear, hopelessness, financial burdens, relationships, overwhelming medical mysteries. I thought I already surrendered and learned to just float a long time ago, but that was when the sea was calm. When that wind picks up, boy do I panic.
It was in the midst of one of those particularly dark and stormy nights, fourth watch, when I was drowning in my own tears, crying out, “Lord, save me!” Between Babesia flares, Bartonella psychosis, and emotional and spiritual growth, one can have the most terrifying nighttime encounters with existential crisis. I was losing my mind and crying so hard I literally thought my facial bones were going to shatter.
The image of Peter came to my mind. Looking it up, I found the story of myself, sheepishly clinging to the God who called me out, saying, “O you of little faith… why do you doubt?”
What struck me is that Peter brought it on himself. This passage immediately follows the miracle of feeding 5,000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish. Five. Thousand. People. Not eight hours later, they see Jesus walking on water… and Peter says, “Prove it.” Oh, Peter. You’re such a doofus. Just like me. How many times have I seen God provide? How many times has He proven Himself in control and working in the midst of my confusion? And yet, when this boat just keeps sailing, the shoreline isn’t getting any bigger, the wind starts to howl, and I even see Jesus in the midst of it saying, “DO NOT BE AFRAID!”…
“Prove it.”
Are you God or am I just crazy? Do I speak His truth or is it my delusional ranting? Does He really heal?
I ask God to prove Himself, and it turns out He does that by letting us do the impossible. Not the cool impossible like fly and raise the dead and walk on water, but the mundane impossible: surviving some of the worst things this fallen world has to throw at us. I say, “Prove it!” and He says, “… come here.” He lets me walk above the waves. When I am drowning, He doesn’t just let me float, He stands me on my feet and bids me to walk. It ain’t no catwalk. It’s not pretty; my clothes are tattered and soaked, my face is covered with snot and ugly-cry lines, and I smell like I just spent the night in a fishing boat (thanks, Candida!). But I’m walking. To Him. With Him. On the raging waters of human existence.
And even so, I have such little faith. Even so, He has to reach out and grab me while I stumble and drag me back into the boat with Him. That doofus Peter sees this, sees the transfiguration, sees the miracles, confesses Christ, watches as He reattaches the ear he just cut off, then goes and gets nervous and denies it all. Knowing me, I’m still going to jump out of the boat and try to swim myself; I’m going to pull out maps and try to get to shore a little faster, I’m going to tell Jesus how to navigate.
But I pray I would just curl up in the bottom of the boat and sleep while He steers. That I will stop hearing the wind. That I will worship Him and recognize who He is. And know that on the other side of the sea, whenever I get there, all who merely touch His garment are healed.
It was on this night I discovered the song "Oceans" - somehow I managed to avoid the mania for 5 whole years (there are many advantages to living overseas, and ignorance of Contemporary Christian Worship Music is one of them). I find modern worship music really cringy and cliché, but with the experience I had on this night, from sheer agony to peace, this song became very special to me and always will be.
You call me out upon the waters, The great unknown where feet may fail. And there I find You in the mystery. In oceans deep My faith will stand
So I will call upon Your name, And keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace, For I am Yours and You are mine.
Your grace abounds in deepest waters. Your sovereign hand will be my guide Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me. You've never failed And You won't start now.
So I will call upon Your name, And keep my eyes above the waves, When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace, For I am Yours and You are mine.
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders; Let me walk upon the waters Wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander And my faith will be made stronger In the presence of my Savior.
-"Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)" Matt Crocker, Joel Houston & Salomon Lightelm, Hillsong United A beautiful rendition by Zoe Grace.
Afterthoughts: Well, I am a doofus after all. Years later, after another night terror in which calling out to Jesus resulted in 4 dark shadow-beings offering to end my life, I learned to grab the oars and paddle my own damn boat, found remission from Lyme, followed in Peter's footsteps, and renounced my religion. I learned that calming the waters was about calming my nervous system through polyvagal regulation, emotional intelligence, and self-love and embodiment, not outsourcing my worth or fate to a poorly-translated book and shaming by religious leaders. But wouldn't you know, I've seen too many miracles since then, and found Jesus is still there waiting on the shore, asking "Do you love me?" and gosh darnit, I do! I don't know who or what is rowing my boat or ordering the storms - the Tao that can be named is not the Tao - but I still love this song, and I love the Source of my life and its beautiful journey.
Comments