What happens when you step out of the boat?
That’s the question. It’s not about the water. It’s not about the wind. It’s about the gap between the safety of the group and the terrifying, empty space in front of you.
It’s early autumn now. The air has that crisp, biting quality to it. We’re in the midst of harvesting what we’ve planted, but we’re also starting new things. New school years. New routines. The familiar feels safe, but the unfamiliar calls to us. It’s a strange tension to live in.
The Storm in the Boat
Let’s go back to the story. You know it. We all do.
Jesus had just finished feeding the five thousand. The crowds were still there, buzzing with energy. But Jesus knew something the disciples didn’t. He knew they needed to be alone with him, away from the noise. So he told them to get into the boat and go to the other side.
They left.
But the weather changed.
A great wind arose, and the waves broke into the boat, so that it began to sink. And Jesus was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
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Think about that image. Jesus is asleep. On a cushion. In the heart of a storm. While his friends are bailing water with their hands, screaming, praying, panicking.
It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it? We want Jesus to be the captain, standing at the helm, shouting orders. We don’t want him napping. But that’s what the Gospel says. He was resting.
The disciples’ reaction is honest. Do you not care? It’s the cry of anyone who has ever felt abandoned by God in a crisis. They were wet, cold, and scared. They looked at Jesus and saw indifference.
But Jesus stood up.
And he rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
He didn’t just calm the sea. He rebuked the wind. He spoke to the chaos, and the chaos listened.
The Man in the Night
But the story doesn’t end there. Not in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John. There’s another part. A later part.
After Jesus fed the five thousand, he went up on a mountain to pray. The disciples boarded their vessel.
By the time night fell, Jesus was still on the land. The boat was far off from the land, and the wind was blowing against them.
In the fourth watch of the night, Jesus came to them, walking on the sea.
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The fourth watch. That’s around 3:00 AM. The darkest hour. The coldest hour.
The disciples see a figure approaching. They think it’s a ghost. It’s a spirit! they shout. They’re terrified.
But Jesus speaks.
“Take heart; it is I, do not be afraid.”
Peter, always the first to act, steps forward.
“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”
So Jesus said to him, “Come.”
Then Peter got out of the boat and walked on the sea toward Jesus.
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The Moment of Doubt
Here’s where it gets tricky.
Peter is treading the waves.
He’s doing it. He’s actually doing it. His feet are touching the surface of the sea, and he’s moving toward Jesus.
For a moment, everything is working.
But then, Peter glances around.
He notices the gale. He observes the swells crashing. He registers the distance between himself and Jesus. He realizes how small he is. He recognizes how big the problem is.
And he sinks.
But immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?”
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This is the part I struggle with.
I’ll be honest. I’ve read this verse a hundred times. And every time, I feel a little bit like Peter. I take a step away from the vessel. I trust Jesus. I’m walking. I’m okay.
But then, my gaze drifts to the waves. My eyes fix on the dark. My attention lands on the uncertainty. And I sink.
Not because Jesus wasn’t there. But because my eyes were on the fear, not on Him.
The Lesson of the Water
For our ordinary weeks?
It’s not that we need to stop sinking. It’s that we must keep looking up.
The water is real. The fear is real. The storm is real.
But Jesus is walking on the water.
When we leave the safety of the group, we’re not stepping into emptiness. We’re moving toward Him.
And even when we sink, He reaches out.
He doesn’t wait for us to fix ourselves. He doesn’t wait for us to be brave enough. He stretches out His hand.
O man of little faith.
It’s not a condemnation. It’s a correction. It’s a reminder that faith isn’t about feeling certain. It’s about trusting Him even when you’re not.
A Practice for the Week
Here’s a simple practice you can try this week.
When you feel the fear rising—when you’re in the car, when you’re at work, when you’re lying awake at 3 AM—stop.
Take a breath.
Ask yourself: Where is Jesus walking?
Don’t try to explain it. Don’t try to make sense of it. Just look up.
See Him there. Treading the waves. Toward you.
And when you sink, don’t panic. Glance up again.
He’s there. He’s reaching out.
Catch His hand.
One Last Thing
There’s something else about this story that I think we miss.
When Jesus calms the storm, the disciples are amazed. They ask, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
But they don’t ask, “How did He do it?” They don’t analyze it. They just marvel.
Maybe that’s the key.
Faith isn’t always about understanding. Sometimes, it’s just about marveling. About being amazed by who Jesus is.
In a world that wants answers, maybe we need to learn to be content with awe.
So this week, when the storm comes, try this.
Don’t just pray for calm. Pray for awe.
Ask God to show you something of Himself that you haven’t seen before. Something that makes your breath catch. Something that makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re in a boat.
That’s where faith lives. Not in the absence of fear, but in the presence of wonder.
For Your Ordinary Week
So here’s what this means for you, this week.
You’re going to face a storm. Maybe it’s a health scare. Perhaps it’s a job loss. Or maybe it’s a relationship falling apart. Or perhaps it’s just the weight of daily life pressing down on you.
When it hits, you’re going to want to stay in the boat. You’re going to want to hold on tight to what you know. What’s safe. What’s familiar.
And that’s okay.
But then, at some point, you’re going to hear a voice. Perhaps it’s in a sermon. Or maybe it’s in a song. Or perhaps it’s in a quiet moment of prayer.
And that voice is going to say, Come.
It might not make sense. It might feel risky. It might feel like jumping off a cliff without a net.
But it’s coming from Jesus.
And if He says, Come, then come.
Leave the vessel behind. Tread the waves.
And if you sink? Well, He’s right there. He’s not going anywhere. He’s going to catch you.
Every single time.
So this week, when you’re in the midst of your ordinary life, remember this.
You don’t have to be perfect. You needn’t have it all figured out. You aren’t required to be strong all the time.
You just have to be willing to take that step. To trust Him, even when your legs are shaking.
And when you do, you’ll find something amazing.
You won’t be alone. You’ll never be alone.
He’s walking right beside you. On the water. With you.
