This storm is ridiculous. How are we ever going to get to the other side? We move an inch forward and five backward. Water keeps coming in, and the twelve pair of hands’ effort to throw it out is simply futile. Is nature making a joke out of our misery? I am so sick and tired of this!

Where is Jesus anyway? I don’t understand why He didn’t come with us. Why did He tell us to go? And I don’t understand why He told the crowd to leave as well. We were about to take over the world! We had such a great time on the mountain. Five thousand plus men were there, and that’s not counting the women and children. How did that turn into this? Why can’t the good times last?

It is now the fourth watch of the night. We’re exhausted. I’m tired of fighting. I just want to curl up and die…

What is that in the shadow? It has the shape of a man, but what kind of man walks on turbulent water?

“It’s a ghost,” someone gasps with wide eyes.

The sounds of our heartbeats seem to take over the sounds of the winds. Someone’s hands are trembling so hard he drops the oar into the water.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” says the man in the shadow. It sounds awfully like Jesus.

This wouldn’t be the first time He surprises me. He has a mysterious way of coming out of left field. I just can’t predict what He’s going to do next.

Well, if it is really Jesus, I can do a little test right?

“Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to You on the water.”

Did I really just say that?


Okay, I don’t really expect that response, but I kind of do too. Something in His voice just sounds so sure, it makes the water seems like a glassy floor.

I know that He has come through for me in the past. Even though I feel a little disappointed with Him recently, it always seems like He has another plan in mind that turns out better than expected.

I think I can take my chances.

Eyes forward. I’m stepping out.

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