Sometimes it is terrifying walking into whatever is next. The comfort of the past, of the known, the familiar, the safe is easier than facing the fear of walking into a new life. Lately for me I’ve been drawn to the story of Peter walking on water. It all started with this quote by Thomas Merton:
“We are so convinced that past evils must repeat themselves that we make them repeat themselves. We dare not risk a new life in which the evils of the past are totally forgotten; a new life seems to imply new evils, and we would rather face evils that are already familiar. Hence we cling to the evil that has already become ours, and renew it from day to day, until we become identified with it and change is no longer thinkable.”
Take the “evils” in this quote and replace it with that thing that we know exactly what it is, that hurt, that brokenness, the thing that happen to us or we did ourselves, the sickness, the death….we know it and we can’t imagine how to let it go. One side we have that thing and on the other a new life. Do we dare risk a new life and let go of what we’ve gripped for so long? It’s easier to face what we’ve already figured out how to manage. That thing at least we know and we’ve figured out how to grow accustomed to holding it, walking with it, bearing that burden, even if it makes us limp through life.
And then there’s this story of Peter in the boat. Jesus comes walking on the water and Peter has the notion that he wants to be where Jesus is….but Jesus is walking among the waves and the storm. I can relate to Peter. I just want to walk to wherever He can be found. Even if it’s a storm, not solid, and unsure footing. I’ve learned that wherever He is there is so much life and freedom and wholeness and authenticity….but not absolute assurance of safety, no guarantee that all will go well.
I think like Peter we all are standing on the side of the boat, peering into the darkness, trying to figure out how to dislodge our feet from the boat. We know where we want to be but the boat….the boat is safe. What’s your boat? Is it safety? Security? Sometimes our boats are the hopes and dreams of someone else for us. Someone’s expectations of who and what we should be. Sometimes our boats are just the past and knowing that as long as we stay there, we can at least control what to expect. Sometimes our boats are an inability to forgive or be forgiven. Sometimes it’s grief. Whatever it is, we hold those things like stones weighing us down. We stand near the edge looking out wondering, questioning, can I walk out there? We know we can’t stay here because the boat is just a vessel carrying us where it wills. But getting out and walking requires action, it requires decision, it requires employing our own agency, taking a risk and walking toward a slightest glimmer of a dream. It requires us to drop all our stones into the sea and take a step.
This brings me to another quote that I can’t even find where it came from but it speaks to the spiritual life and it’s been a beacon of hope to me over the past few months.
“the spiritual life isn’t to save you from yourself; it’s to save you to yourself. It’s the freedom to employ agency and take responsibility for your own life. It’s the grace to let go of who you think you’re supposed to be and embrace who you are.”
We aren’t bad people…just broken. God doesn’t want to rescue you from yourself….he wants to show you who you are. He’s trying to draw the biggest circle around all of you and tell you yes…that’s the part I want to be with, that’s the part I love, I’ve got room enough for that to, bring that with you. And then he brings you to yourself, who you’ve always been, who he made you to be. And then he calls to you from outside the boat and you take a step. A liquid, fumbling, mushy, stumbling step toward what’s next, toward risking a new life. Sometimes like Peter you sink. But who ever said that sinking was failure? Why do we think perfect walking is the only way forward? The only failure is never getting out of the boat, of never daring and never risking to walk, love, risk, feel, hurt, and forgive again. Crawling is fine. Falling is fine. Sinking is fine. Staying in the boat, not risking it all again…that’s not a life. At least not the one He dreams for you. For me…I just want to walk on water now, even if it’s only for moment. And I can feel the One out there smiling in the darkness among the waves saying I’ve been waiting for you to come and I’m so glad all of you is finally here.
I leave us with these lines of Sir Francis Drake and you each lose sight of land and find the stars:
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
From The Whale's Belly 