Peter Walks on Water: A Retelling
Have you ever noticed that only one of the four Gospels recounts the story of Peter walking on the water beside Jesus? I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a very good reason for this. Let’s take a minute and really try and imagine the scene as it might have played out two thousand years ago.
It’s a stormy night. Visibility is quite bad and the disciples are out trying to digest what had just happened. A spontaneous gathering of five thousand people set the stage for one of their Master’s quietest, yet most astounding, miracles. The love of this Jesus is a mighty thing. He was no magician. Rather, the way he gave of himself to others inspired them to do the same. And when five thousand people care more about the person sitting next to them than themselves, the kingdom of God comes very near and a little goes a very long way!
But what did it all mean? What was really happening? As the waters became more turbulent, one of the disciples, maybe Thaddeus, spotted something—or was it someone—out in the misty distance.
“It’s a ghost!” someone exclaimed, maybe Andrew.
“I doubt it,” said Thomas.
But sure enough, as the figure drew nearer, it became clear that this was no ghost. It was their Master, walking upon the waters!
Now Peter, drawn to the idea of mastering the elements, moved to the front of the boat.
“Master! If it is truly you, ask that I may come upon the waters alongside you?”
Jesus smiled and gave a chuckle as if to say, “What are you waiting for, kiddo?” And with that, Peter was up and out.
Then the thunder clapped. Lightning struck. A fin strolled by sticking out of the water. And the disciples looked at them both in amazement. So what happened next? You guessed it.
“Help! Dear Lord! Help! What the heck am I doing out here?”
Yes, this poor Peter, with a simple trust in Jesus, was able to do the impossible. It just goes to show what faith can do. But what was it that stood in the way of this faith? Was it the thunder? Was it the darkness? How about the dangerous sea creatures that could have been lurking beneath the surface?
I would venture to say it was none of the above. Peter took his eyes off of Jesus and onto the bad weather and all the danger involved, but really, he was most concerned about himself. When the dark clouds come over us, who can we rely on? When the storms of life overtake us, who can protect us? And when we find ourselves sinking fast, who will rescue us? Peter thought he was something special and forgot that Jesus is the only one that can save him. But when his life was actually on the line, how quickly he remembered!
So, while we can learn a lot in this little story of Peter’s triumph and failure in the Gospel of Matthew, perhaps we can learn a lot more from its absence in Mark, Luke, and John. For as the story itself demonstrates, the last one we ought to be looking at is Peter. Let us turn our eyes only to Jesus!
Come to the Tree
There was once a mighty tree that stood in the middle of a vast field. This tree was strong and firm and it was many hundreds of years old. The trunk was immovable and it was so thick that the children could not get their arms all the way around when they tried to hug it. But even so, this tree was inviting. The trunk split just low enough to allow the young ones to climb up and the branches reached out in every direction allowing them all space to rest on them.
Yes, the tree was simply the best in the world for climbing but the most special part of this grand old tree was its fruit. The shiny fruit was succulent and moist, more sweet and juicy than an apple or pear and less sour and tangy than an orange or grapefruit. Candy was no match for this tasty treat. Whatever it was, the fruit was unlike anything they had ever tasted and it hung from the branches all year round.
But too much of anything, no matter how good, can lead to trouble. The generosity of this grand tree was to be its downfall. It would give and give and the children would take and take until its goodness was no longer savored and the precious fruit was taken for granted. Many became picky, taking only the shiniest, leaving the lesser ones to drop to the ground and rot beneath the branches. Worms and maggots and then flies and bad odors all began to creep in until the children didn’t even want to play there anymore.
Too much dead fruit piled up and disease began to spread into the earth, infecting all of the roots. It didn’t happen overnight, but sure enough, the life of the tree was eventually choked out. The trunk became hollow and the bark thin like paper. Then, it only took the slightest wind to knock it over.
Many still remember the great tree. They can recall the bright and sunny days they simply leaned back against the massive trunk as their companions climbed about merrily overhead in the branches. Here is a song that has been passed down through the years. It has served as a reminder for many and it’s a very important message for all of us:
This fruit is a gift, offered for us!
Sweet to the taste and soft to the touch.
Hold fast to the branches,
cling not to the fruit.
The trunk has deep roots,
but the stem, it hangs loose!
Come to the Tree, the branches for all!
Only mind where you hang, or cometh a fall.
Hold not to the ends,
but cling to the Center.
And always remember
what the good fruit is meant for.
With thankful hearts we share bounties:
Friends, families, villages, counties!
The fruit of the spirit
is love, joy and peace.
For the poor and the least
this fruit will increase!
Sir Richard, the First Magician
A long, long time ago there were once two knights that had a disagreement. They argued and quarreled so badly that they came to blows and when that wasn’t enough, they drew their swords. The two knights clashed and clanged so violently that they drew the attention of many around them.
The crowd continued to grow larger and larger until suddenly a man dressed in a peculiar pink and glittery green outfit emerged from the crowd. The two knights turned their attention to him as he also drew a sword.
“The problem is,” he said, “Each of you believes that you are better than the other.”
Both knights heartily nodded their helmeted heads.
“Well, can either of you do this?”
The third man in the funny outfit proceeded to take his sword and shove it straight down his own throat.
The crowd was utterly bewildered. Some “ooohed,” others “aaahed,” and some were thoroughly disgusted. But the knights were confounded.
“Since neither of you can even attempt to do what I do without killing yourselves, you ought to give up your petty fighting. The good Lord is near!”
(For