Walk on Water

If the measure of our faith is our willingness to swim and not our ability to walk on water, then why is that story even in the Gospel? Why does God tell us about Peter's failure to do something we weren't actually created to do?

Fair question.

I don't claim to understand why everything that is in the Bible is in the Bible. Some of it, I truly wonder. There's a passage in the Old Testament where Saul was hunting David and went into the cave where David was hiding "to relieve himself." I didn't need to know that. Someone, somewhere, was divinely inspired to believe I did. Now I do. I don't know why.

But here's what I get from Peter's water-walking, and this is the thought I want to share with you:

This episode is a story of faith - in both Christ and self. Everyone on that boat knew they weren't supposed to walk on water. That's why they were terrified when Jesus showed up standing on the waves. But Peter says, "I want to do that." We don't know why. We don't know what possessed Peter to want to attempt this feat.

The line in the Gospel says, "If it is really you, tell me to come to you on the water." There were a lot of other ways Peter could have answered the question, "Is it really you?" without putting himself in harm's way. But this is his choice, and Jesus responds, "Ok. Come."

This is the crux of the lesson of water-walking that I think we often forget: Peter didn't go when he simply wanted to; he went when he was called. 

As I said yesterday, I think so many of us judge our faith by our ability to walk on water, and my question in response to that is: Did Jesus call you onto the water? If He didn't, even if you pull it off, it's not faith. It's cool. It's unique. Good for you. But it's not faith. Faith is trusting God for what He asks of you, not for what He asked of someone else.

Which leads me to what I think the point of this story is - it's an invitation to understand the dynamic between what God asks of you, what He creates in you, what He makes possible in you, and who you are.

Peter fell in. We so often attribute this to his lack of faith in Christ, who called him onto the water. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I think it's easier to believe this was a sign of Peter's lack of faith in himself. Knowing what we know of Peter, I think it's quite possible that he believed God could do what He was doing and believed God could ask him to do what He was doing and believed God could make it possible for him to do what He was asking him to do...but he could hardly believe he could do it.

Isn't that the way it is with our faith? It's easy to believe God could do this or that thing, even this or that impossible thing, but it's absurd to think He could do it with us. I mean, we know us. We know who we are, and it's hard to believe that He could do anything with us, let alone the impossible. That's the struggle of faith. It's not that we just have to believe in God, it is that we also must believe in God in us, and that is where Peter failed. That is where we often fail.

This is the lesson of water-walking. It's not that we should always be above the waves. It's not that we go walking to Jesus on the water so we can show Him we believe. It's that 1) we wait until God calls us and then 2) we believe in the God who is calling, we believe in the calling, we believe He will make it possible, and we believe He will make it possible in us. And then we go.

That's faith, the way it was meant to be. That's water-walking.

Swim

By what standard do you measure your faith?

When we look at the Scriptures and try to figure out what true faith looks like, I think for many of us, it comes back to to Gospels. To one scene in particular - the time when Peter tries walking on the water. Isn't that what you think of as absolute faith?

It's kind of what we want, isn't it? We want the kind of rock-solid, confident faith that is able to stand on any trouble this world may roll our way, that is able to cross the tumult, that is able to keep its ground. Walking on water is the perfect metaphor for faith.

Or is it?

The other night, I had the opportunity to rescue a baby seal who had become stranded in my living room. I cradled it in my lap as we looked out the bay window to view the world before us. I remember wondering how it had gotten here, but with my eyes locked on it, compassion overwhelmed me and the only thing I could think about what getting that little creature back to the sea. (If you haven't figured out by now, this was a dream. If you know me, you know I don't put a lot of stock in dreams, but sometimes they amuse me and in reflection, I find something valuable to take away.)

I looked out the window and the street was an ocean. I looked back into my lap and there was another, larger seal lying next to us. I'm not sure exactly how it happened but the next image I had was the two - lost baby and big friend - seal-walking down the driveway toward the sea. I watched out the window as the big seal dove in and started to swim away. Then I watched as the little one stood on its flippers and started to walk across the water.

Do you understand the implications of a seal walking across the ocean?

I woke up laughing, amused. I grew a little sadder as I continued to ponder the dream. What was the seal so afraid of? Why wouldn't it just let itself swim? After all, it was created to swim.

So were you. So was I.

There is not one human who naturally walks on water. There is no one among us who can stay above the tumult. There's not one of us who can overcome the waves. We weren't meant to. You and I...were created to throw ourselves in, to launch off the dry land and into the sea. We were made for depth, for currents, for waves. We were made to be overwhelmed. Isn't that what the water feels like when you throw yourself in? Isn't it nothing more than a glorious overwhelming? That's what we were made for!

And here we are judging our faith by our ability to stand. I just don't think that's the thing at all. And what does it say about Jesus? It says that He stands above it all and waits for us to come walking to Him, like He waited for Peter outside of that boat. It says that He expects us to not give in, to be able to stand, to walk on the water. But that's not what He says.

Jesus came not to call us out of the water, but to lead us into it. His entire ministry was in the overwhelmed places of the world. He took Himself into the homes of tax collectors and sinners, onto the streets of torn towns, into the walls of a broken temple. He took Himself into the mess, threw Himself into the waves. He calmed a few storms, sure, but do you think the two or three storms we read about were the only times it thundered in three years of His ministry? Of course not. Most of the time, He was riding them out like the rest of us.

He's the One that came to teach us how to swim. He came to show us the way to the ocean. He came to throw Himself in so that maybe, just maybe, we would have the courage to follow.

Maybe it's not walking on water that is the measure of faith.

Maybe the measure of our faith is whether or not we will swim.

Eternal Harvest

If you are faithful in sowing seed, in planting well, the time will come for the harvest. Here's the question: are you still hungry for corn?

That is, do you still long for the very thing you planted or have your tastes changed my now? This is the cautionary tale of the planter.

Because what is the truth about the harvest? The truth is that it doesn't come overnight. It doesn't come in the next day or the next week or the next month. A few seasons have to pass before the seed you've planted grows into something valuable, which is why you have to consider just what it is you're sowing.

This is why I think so many people are perpetually dissatisfied with their lives. We simply forget about the seasons and turn toward the harvest without consider the growth process in between - because as the seasons are changing, so are we. Imagine at this point in your life, you are focused on that big promotion at work. So you ready the ground, prepare yourself to make the big moves necessary to acquire the attention of the promoting manager. Then you put in the work and diligently fulfill your duties, above and beyond, with one eye on the corner office. A season passes as you're proving yourself, and then you get there. The job is yours for the taking. But do you still want it? Does it mean as much in the harvest as it did when you planted it? Sometimes, sure. Often times, no. Because come harvest time, you're reflecting on the passing season and realizing how different you are now, one way or the other, and what seemed so important in the spring doesn't hold so much in the fall.

I'll let you fill in the blanks.

The truth is that so many of the things we're planting don't matter to us in the harvest because in the passing of seasons, we change. Our longings change. Our ideals change. Our understandings change. And by necessity, our appetites change. You know this much is true from the farmer's tale - if you only planted the things you wanted to eat, without accounting for the seasons, we'd never have pumpkins. Because at the time you have to plant them, nobody's thinking pumpkin pie. We're thinking fresh greens and bright berries and aromatic herbs; we're not thinking nutty, earthy, harvest deliciousness. Not in March or April. But thank the good Lord someone knows that in October, I'm going to want pumpkin and they plan accordingly. (I'm already eating pumpkin and persimmon this year. Too early?)

I think this is why Jesus told so many parables of the farmer and the seed, the harvest and the fields. I think He wanted to get us in a planter's state of mind so that we would understand exactly what it is that we sow. He wants us to think about the season we're in, what our appetite says now, and what we need to plant for the next season so that we're not disappointed in the harvest. So that when we want pumpkin, we have it.

That's not to say we can't think short-term; it is to say we simply need a little understanding. Not every crop takes so long to grow. Plant Zucchini at Easter, and you will have it in April. And May. And June. And July. And August. And every month until the frost kills it or you pull the darned thing out of the ground because you don't know what you'll do with one more zucchini. But if you don't plant your pumpkins in the spring, there won't be any in the fall. You have to know what you're sowing.

So I ask you that question: what are you sowing? And what do you want to harvest? Praise has a pretty quick turnaround time. Plant praise today and you will harvest it tomorrow. And the next day and the next day.... Hope, on the other hand, has a longer growing period. Confident assurance, even longer still. And a few seasons may pass before you see it, which is why you have to plant such things in a ground that doesn't change. Solid ground, if you will. The good soil of God who will be faithful to grow it through your seasons so that when you're ready, so is it and when it's ready, so are you and the passing of seasons hasn't changed either of you so much that the hope is irrelevant. No, it tastes mighty good right about now.

Kind of like pumpkin. Delicious, delicious pumpkin.

Sowers and Reapers

The reason it's easy to focus on the harvest in ministry is because that's where the payoff seems to be. Nobody's impressed by freshly-tilled soil. Nobody rushes to the store to buy seedlings for their salad. No. We want a big, hearty tomato and we don't care how it got here. (Fill in your favorite produce item here.)

That's why it's tempting to focus on how many people follow you into the church parking lot on Sunday morning. That's tangible. That's a number. That makes you feel like you're doing something for God's people. For God.

But the truth about ministry, or anything else you do for God, is that you don't always get to see the pay off.

Moses didn't. Remember him? Moses risked his life to stand before Pharaoh and demand the release of God's people. He put his reputation on the line to lead the people through the wilderness. He led with passion and fought with pride and pulled these people toward a Promised Land, even when they weren't sure they were all that interested any more. Remember what he got for all that work? A look through the binoculars at a holy land he wasn't ever going to enter.

Joseph didn't. Remember him? He got them into the Egypt mess in the first place, by saving them. God put him in position to provide during a family, and Joseph ended up getting a remnant of Israel a place to stay in Egypt so they wouldn't all die out from lack of food. He believed God would save His people and restore them to their lands, but Joseph died in Egypt. Only his bones ever saw the Promise.

Paul didn't. Remember him? Paul was one of the most incredible missionaries whose stories we have been able to read. He traveled. He taught. He graced an entire region with the good news of God, believing that the church was there for the taking if only someone would dare to plant such a thing. Not one of his letters ever read, "Congratulations, guys! You made it! You are an awesome church, exactly what God intended!" (They probably still wouldn't today.) He spent his entire life planting and pulling weeds, never seeing the way the church has grown since his death. He probably died thinking about the strife between the elders at Thessalonika.

Yet you look at these men and you say, of course they did something worthy for God. It's only upon looking again that you realize their contribution was never in the harvest.

So it is with us. We weren't all meant to be reapers. Some of us are sowers. Some of us are tenders. Most of us may spend our entire lives planting and pulling weeds...but you never know what you're creating space for. You never know what you're setting up to grow.

In all of Scripture, I think there's only one figure I would say was a harvester, and that is Christ. The rest were field hands in changing seasons. So what makes you think you're so special? Button up the overalls, grab the hoe (God used a good many ho to accomplish His work....sorry....I couldn't help myself) and get your hands dirty. Plant and pull weeds. Out there lies the Promise, and your work is to help it grow.

Break New Ground

Break new ground. Plant righteousness, and harvest the fruit that your loyalty will produce for me. (Hosea 10:12)

It's a simple formula: break, plant, harvest. Yet we are consistently lacking in the first two steps.

We're pretty good at harvest, or so we think. And when we're not, we're pretty sure harvesting in our problem. We live our Christian lives like people watching us ought to simply see our loyalty to God and, without any back story, should marvel at our incredible goodness and then be directed toward God. We live hoping people will see us pull into church on Sunday morning and pull in behind us, although we'd never actually extend an invitation. We look in the mirror and see brokenness then put on the foundation of God and walk into the world so the world sees goodness, then we think they'll understand. They don't, of course, but that's our hope. That our loyalty and good looks alone will harvest a new crop of believers for God.

We're content to base our ministry on the harvest and ignore the ground and the seed.

You know why? Because here's the thing about new ground: it's hard. Soil that has never been turned is packed together. It takes a great measure of strength to dig in and soften it up, and who wants to bother with that? But God says this is the first step in serving Him - we have to break new ground. Look around, and you know this is the truth.

What do you say about the Christian who looks just like his world? What do you say about the man who bows his head in prayer and then bites your head off when you inconvenience him? What do you say about the woman who talks faithfully to the Lord and just as faithfully about everyone else? What do you say about the guy with the Jesus bumper sticker who just cut you off in traffic or the woman whose filthy words carry across the room and you can hardly believe when you hear her praising God with those lips a few minutes later? What do you say about the Christian who looks just like the world?

More importantly, what do you say about his God?

Jesus was all about breaking new ground. He was about digging in and turning the soil. He was about making people take a second look because here is this guy who doesn't look like everyone else. This is the step that gets people wondering. Hey, they notice, this guy is different. I wonder why.

If breaking new ground doesn't look hard enough, try taking the next step and planting righteousness. This is where the rubber meets the road because now, you don't have to just look different - you have to be different. You have to put yourself in a place to be broken and nourished. Is that not how a seed grows? A seed grows by becoming too big for its shell and bursting forth into fertile ground. When you plant righteousness, you show a side of yourself that is too big for this place. A side that is willing to go beyond its boundaries for a chance at growth. This is faith, among many other things.

Here's the misconception: God doesn't say to be righteous, although that is certainly the goal. He says simply to plant righteousness, to bury yourself in the bigger, life-giving thing and show your potential. That's what the world is looking for in God, anyway - potential. They're looking for something bigger..they're looking to be something bigger. They're looking to break out of their shell. You plant righteousness and show them that it's plausible, if not also possible, by your simple measure of faith. No matter what kind of nut you sprout into as you grow.

Then we get to the harvest. You've dared to be different, given yourself to growth, and now you grow and that is the final testament to living the Godly life - to demonstrate your evolution in His fertile ground. This is the part we want to skip to, to show people who we are in God in the hopes that they will see who they can be. It just doesn't matter unless they've seen the first two steps. Unless they've seen you bold and broken, how good you are today does not impress them. And they are not impressed with your God, either.

And if you show them your God but they weren't ripe for pickin', tell me, friend - have you harvested a single soul? No?

Then maybe it's time to break new ground.