Embrace the Scary

Our family has gone to visit Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Virginia during the fall several times. Each fall, the park dives into the autumnal themes of the season and runs with it. Everywhere, there are pumpkins and colored leaves and spiced cider and apples and hay bales. Less exciting (to me, anyway -- because I don't like heart-stopping 'thrills'), is the park's use of Halloween's fear factor, particularly after the sun goes down. When that happens, "characters" in costume walk through the park. Some of the characters are funny, some odd-looking, many are a little frightening, particularly for young children, so the park urges families with small children to exit the gates by dark. 

On one such visit, we were heading out of the park at dusk, but had gotten waylaid by the gift shops near the gates. While some of my family looked through the store, I sat on a bench outside and "people-watched." There was a "headless lady" in a black Victorian gown slowly meandering among the crowds. Her black lace glove clung to a parasol, and her high-necked collar -- with no head above it -- stood neck-and-shoulders above most of the people around her.

Another family with young children was preparing to leave the park as well, and a small girl held tightly to her father's hand, her eyes enormous as they prepared to bypass the "headless lady." The child hugged her father's leg, and her father crouched down to hold her. "It's just a costume," I heard him say. "It's a normal person inside. Just like you, just like me. Don't worry, I've got you."

The costumed lady paused in her walk. She didn't draw closer to the child, but she crouched down in front of the girl so she wasn't so large and imposing. She lifted her black-laced hand and gave a friendly wave. I watched the small girl with a touch of awe; in the same situation, my own children would have been climbing over top of me to try to run away. This girl, however, seemed fairly settled and secure in the circle of her father's arms, and she waved back. Another minute later, the girl allowed the woman to place her arm around her shoulders while her father took a picture.

The girl looked past her fear and recognized the person on the other side of it. This story came back to me as I read today's Scripture passage in John 6:16-24, which describes a terrifying event. 

But let's start with where we left off yesterday. Jesus has just wowed a whole slew of people with a mind-blowing miracle: A feast of bread and fish for a crowd of over five-thousand people. He's wowed them so much that they've decided they're going to make Him King by force, whether He wants the position or not.

Jesus knows what's in their hearts, and He acts preemptively to stop them. The parallel versions of this story in Matthew and Mark both say: "Jesus made the disciples get into the boat." My footnotes say that the Greek word for "made" is a strong word meaning "to compel," and its use suggests that there is a crisis afoot. John's account in 6:22 says: "The next day the crowd that had stayed on the opposite shore of the lake realized that only one boat had been there, and that Jesus had not entered it with His disciples, but that they had gone away alone."

Jesus pulls off a stealthy escape operation, using the confusion of 5,000-plus people to slip away, and it's all night before the crowd realizes that He's not with His disciples. How? No clue. I suspect that -- using that telephone system of communication I talked about in yesterday's blog -- the crowd starts making all sorts of plans for crowning Jesus King, and as committees form and subgroups strategize, and as people sit around campfires planning their modus operandi to overthrow Roman rule, the crowds sort of forget that Jesus is no longer the focal point, and that their own plans have taken center stage. The crowd has made a puppet out of Jesus. They've pulled the strings, intending to make the puppet dance, and by the time they've set up their marionette play... their puppet is missing.

Wow. Wow. Does this sound familiar? Have we ever made a puppet of Jesus? Do we pull the strings to make Jesus obey our will, rather than submit our will to Him? And then when we've figured out what we've done, we realize we're so far off-base that Jesus has left our little show?

By the time the crowds figure out that Jesus is gone, it's already the next morning. What's happened to Him? Where has He gone?

Let's see what's gone down while the crowd is doing their planning session:

It's dark, about the fourth watch of the night (between 3:00 and 6:00 a.m.). Jesus had made the disciples set sail earlier in the evening, but now that they're way out on the lake, the wind has picked up, and the waves are making it impossible for the boat to get anywhere. The Sea of Galilee is well-known for its sudden storms, and the disciples are caught in a furious squall. They've abandoned any idea of sailing; they've pulled down the canvas and are rowing instead. 

They row for three or three and a half miles, and they're exhausted. A few of them are fishermen by trade, and their muscles are surely used to rowing, hauling in nets, heavy loads. But then we've got guys who, like Matthew, count money for a living. 

Matthew's account of this story is one of the most interesting, because he's the only one who talks about what Peter does. Following is my novel-esque paraphrase:

All the disciples are in the same boat (John 6:22 makes it clear that they have all left the shore in one vessel). Their vessel is like a fishing boat, so if you're picturing a canoe or a small rowboat, think a little bigger. There's got to be enough room for nets and equipment. Perhaps a small mast and sail. And there are oars. For the larger vessel, these oars would need to be beefier than the light two-paddled kayak oars you might think of at first. Probably heftier poles, maybe two rowers to an oar.

So Matthew, puffing heavily, out of shape, unused to the strain of rowing, is paired up with Peter, who is doing the brunt of the work. Both men strain against the oar, working to stay in tempo with James and John, who are manning the oar in front of them. On the other side, Andrew and Philip are sweating in the cold lashing waves that slap the sides of the boat like a battering ram as they shout the tempo to the others in front of them.

Matthew's arms are numb, his heart is beating nearly out of its chest. The boat almost heels over in the storm surge, and Matthew thinks of all the things he wishes he'd done with his life as he coughs out the water that's gone up his nose when the wave crashes over the deck. He strains to see through the storm and obscurity and murk for any sign of the shoreline and salvation.

And there just off the starboard side of the ship, not far out, is the figure of a man, walking for all the world as though He's out for a Sunday stroll, unbent by the wind, unbowed by the waves. Mark's account of this story actually made me laugh out loud this morning. "He was about to pass by them..."

Hey guys. How's it going? Pleasant nod. Shoves hands in pockets and continues on.

Matthew's mouth drops open. Peter has seen the man, too. One by one, the oars stop their motion as all the disciples strain to see what Matthew is seeing. James starts to shake. Somewhere near the front, Judas Iscariot sobs like a little girl. Somebody screams, though Matthew isn't sure who. Maybe it was him.

Immediately, Jesus says: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."

That's a big ask, Lord. In case You didn't know, this is a highly unusual situation. In fact, I don't think this has ever happened before.

Impulsive Peter calls across the water. "Lord, if it's you, tell me to come to you on the water!"

Matthew sighs, rolls His eyes. Oh, Peter.

Jesus smiles. "Come," He says.

Peter drops the weight of the oar totally into Matthew's hands. Matthew's arms sag beneath the weight as Peter catapults himself over the side, and lands, feet first... on the water. His attention is on Jesus; he ignores the terrified yelps of the other disciples. Matthew watches as Peter's hand on the edge of the boat slowly releases, and then... step, by careful step, Peter -- against all probability, likelihood, or science -- walks on the surface of the water toward Jesus.

The storm is still furious. The boat is still rocking, dipping, tilting. 

Can I just point this out?? The storm doesn't calm down even after Peter takes that step of faith. When we step out in faith, we expect God to smooth the way, don't we? Make it calm. Settle the storm... but Jesus is there in the storm. Calling us through the waves.

Peter lets it get to him. An enormous wave surges up beneath him, and he looks down. He turns his eyes from Jesus, and focuses on the impossibility of what he's doing. And the water opens up to swallow him.

Matthew gulps back a cry. Peter! Watch out!

Jesus immediately crosses the distance between them and grabs Peter's hand. "You of little faith," he says so Matthew can hear. "Why did you doubt?"

Little faith?! Peter got out of the boat! What does that say about me?

Through all of this: through the feeding of the 5,000, through the long night, the rowing and straining of the oarsmen, the sighting of Jesus, and the getting out of the boat, Jesus has called the disciples to a deeper faith, but they still do not understand...

Until Jesus gets in the boat with them. Matthew writes: "Then those who were in the boat worshiped Him, saying, 'Truly You are the Son of God.'"

This morning, as I was praying, the Lord showed me a brief picture: a stormy sky, dark menacing clouds covering it, clear evidence of a storm. Flickers of electricity light up the storm heads, and suddenly, as I watch, a zigzag of lightning slices out of a cloud toward the ground. Instead of instantly disappearing as lightning does, the fork of electricity stays. All around, there is a sense of fear, but at the same time, wonder, awe, amazement. 

Psalm 77:16-19 came to mind as I was praying about this. These verses describe an incredible storm: "The waters saw you, oh God; the waters saw You and writhed. The very depths were convulsed. The clouds poured down water, the skies resounded with thunder. Your arrows flashed back and forth. Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind, Your lightning lit up the world; the earth trembled and quaked."

A truly fear-inspiring scene, right? Something that would make even the most storm-hardy person a little tense. 

Verse 19, though, changes the tempo of the picture: "Your path led through the sea, Your way through the mighty waters, though Your footprints were not seen."

Even when we can't see His footprints, He is present in the storm. He doesn't wait out the storm to see if we come through it. He is there. This picture that I saw of the static lightning strike, I understood to be God saying: The things I do will be visible to the whole world. They will look past the circumstances, and recognize Me. What is impossible, will be. What is unlikely, will happen. I want you to move past the point of attributing things to circumstance, coincidence, or likelihood. 

I am God, and I am working. Stop giving credit to everything else; I am doing a new thing. Look at the nations and watch -- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told. What I am doing is obvious and undeniable. I will work through you, and make it so. The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day, bright as the noonday sun. Just be still, stand still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations! I will be exalted in the earth!

In the chaos, confusion, and storm that many of us are walking through right now, lets look for the Walker on the water. What we think is scary, Jesus says of it: It is I! Don't be afraid!

That hit me today like a ton of bricks. What we think is terrifying, Jesus says of it: Hey y'all, it's Me. I'm doing a thing here. Don't be afraid of it. Embrace it instead.

Embrace the scary. Look past the fear at the One behind it, and get out of that boat. Rather than blocking it out, pretending it doesn't exist, exit the fishing vessel and move toward the Walker on the water. Fear is a deadly weapon the enemy uses against us. Look fear in the face, banish it.

It is I! Don't be afraid!