Walking on water

Peter did not begin to sink and then become afraid. Instead, he became afraid and then began to sink. That’s the lesson.

When Jesus called the Twelve, they followed because they were amazed by what he taught and by his miracles. He preached with authority. He worked wonders. They were attracted to him, hoping he was the Messiah. Only gradually, however, did it dawn on them that they weren’t simply to remain disciples. At the start, it likely didn’t occur to them that Jesus would soon make them apostles, commissioning them to preach as he preached and to work similar wonders, that they weren’t simply to be passive observers of the kingdom at all but agents of it.

Which must’ve been a little frightening to realize. God’s calling me to do what? To proclaim the kingdom? He’s calling me to walk out there on the water with him? Such is how I’ve always read this story from Matthew. Jesus is calling Peter to do something extraordinary, miraculous. Jesus calls us, too, to do extraordinary and miraculous things as agents of the kingdom. Jesus invites us to work with him for the sake of the kingdom of God. He gives the apostles the grace to do what he does just as he gives the Church the grace to do what he does as well in the sacraments, in witness and service. Jesus calls us to be his coworkers, to do and say what he says. It’s like he’s calling us to walk on water just like him, as unbelievably amazing as that sounds.

That’s why we should learn this valuable lesson from Peter’s failure, that he only began to sink after he began to fear. You see, we, too, will be called by Christ himself to do amazing things, things so seemingly impossible they seem as silly as walking on water. But if the call is real, you’ll be able to manage; you will be able to walk on water. But don’t be afraid! Don’t falter in faith, fearing what’s around you. For that’s when you’ll begin to sink when you take your eyes off Jesus.

Now this, of course, may apply to whatever God is calling you to do particularly. But it’s also possible to think of this generally in terms of simply being a Christian. Simply put, it’s hard to be a Christian, hard to be a Catholic. Sometimes we fear; sometimes when we live out our faith, we think people are looking at us, mocking us, whispering to themselves, “What’s this idiot trying to walk on water for?” That is, we sometimes we take our eyes off of Jesus, fearing what’s around us, and then we begin to sink. Because we’ve faltered in the Faith of an amazing call.

Which is why the story about Elijah at Horeb is also helpful. You see, he too faltered. Weary of what God had asked him to do, he escaped to the desert. But there he found God again, a God who was gentle with him, even after he had failed. God whispered to him, calling him back to the task he’d given him. This lesson is beautiful too, for that’s what God offers us when we falter, another chance. Just as Jesus reached out his hand to save Peter and as God whispered gently to comfort Elijah, so, too, he saves and comforts us. Which is simply beautiful, such mercy.

We will fail, each of us. Being a Catholic, living the Christian life, following whatever God’s called us to do is indeed difficult. But we must struggle to keep fear at bay, but also to remember grace — that it’s always available. For God loves us so much he won’t let us sink.