Walking on Water: Celebrating Risk and Failure

In rereading the miracle of Jesus walking on water, I notice a couple of things I hadn’t before. The first is that the water Jesus walked on was stormy. The image I had in my head previously was of Jesus walking across smooth waters, the light dancing across the little ripples. But no, Jesus traversed wind and waves, apparently without any trouble.

The second thing I notice is that Peter, not Jesus, initiated the whole walking on water fiasco. Peter challenged Jesus to prove himself.

And Peter answered Him and said, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.” Matthew 14: 28

I admit I wouldn’t have gone there.

It wouldn’t have occurred to me to join in on the whole walking on water adventure.

But Peter takes it further than any of the other disciples, and I admire him for it. He did something that none of the others ventured to do. He stepped way outside his comfort zone. Peter deserves some credit for this, I believe.

Every interpretation of this miracle that I could find pretty much echoes the same sentiment. Peter didn’t have enough faith. Jesus even said it to him after rescuing him:

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand, caught hold of him, and said to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt? ”

In the peculiar Christianese we Christians often employ with one another, we often say Oh brother/sister, I’m really walking on water right now to indicate that we are in the midst of a stormy season. And thus the interpretation of the walking on water miracle begins and ends with how much faith do we have? Enough to make it through a major storm event? And we rev our faith engines up to white knuckle it through life’s tougher moments, afraid of Jesus’ reprimand. Will we have enough faith to make it through?

But I want to challenge this rather flat interpretation.

After all, Peter didn’t have to get out of the boat. Jesus didn’t say Hey guys, prove yourselves to me. Jump on out of that boat. He didn’t condemn the others for staying in the boat. In fact, he got into the boat with them and calmed the wind to boot.

Peter saw Jesus doing something extraordinary and wanted to be like him. He was willing to risk his safety to do it. And he did it for a hot minute before cognitive dissonance began to take over. At least, that is how I think of it. Our human minds can’t quite comprehend the miraculous, even when it happens to us. So Peter sinks and Jesus hauls him up out of the water.

I want to note that our reading of Jesus’ words often takes such a harsh tone. When I read the words, Ye of little faith, why did you doubt I, too, default to condemnation. But what we know of Jesus, from his defense of the adulterous woman and love of the thief on the cross, doesn’t jive with the dreaded disappointed tone of voice. I reread that in terms of affection. I read it with Jesus smiling.

After all, Peter getting out of the boat at all is an act of faith. He just couldn’t sustain it. And who of us can, especially our first time out? It took me three attempts to escape from my abusive ex-husband before I had the strength of will and faith to stay gone. Do I wish I had stayed gone the first time? You bet. But I bet Peter learned what I learned from my attempts. He learned the rhythm of faith and fear in a truly experiential way.

That is the point of leaving the safe zone.

It isn’t about being successful every time. Leaving the comfortable rhythms of our lives to walk out onto the stormy waves of the unknown teaches us something. To fail isn’t generally fatal, for one. That is an important tenet to live by. To fear failure is to live paralyzed. Peter failed, for sure. And it wasn’t his last failure. But he went on to bring the Gospel to the Gentiles and became quite a miracle worker. I bet he thought often about that first step out on the water and remembered that faith when he faced adversity.

The other lesson I draw is that we are responsible for initiating that risk. Jesus didn’t invite the disciples out for walking on water lessons. He didn’t make the water smooth, invite the men out onto the water, and gradually increase their faith and tolerance for walking on water by increasing the waves. He merely responded to Peter’s request. Peter asked and then Jesus invited.

So as I write this, the boat and the waves are a metaphor for several areas in my life. My writing comes to mind as does facing a diagnosis of diabetes. But I would rather be the kind of failure Peter is, risking my pride for the sake of becoming more like Jesus, than stay safely in the boat. Remember, Peter has a revelation first about who Jesus is. He knows Jesus is God because he stepped out of the boat and put himself in a position of God showing up or he perishes.

I want to know Jesus like that, not safe in some theologically sound boat. I don’t want intellectual assent. I want to feel Jesus’ hand lifting me out of my own stormy soul. I want to see his eyes gleam with humor as he says, My girl of little faith, why did you doubt? See? I had you all the time.

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