A steep learning curve

Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.

But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshipped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

Matthew 14:25-33

Was Simon Peter a hero for having the faith to step out of the boat and walk on the water? Or was he a failure for panicking and starting to sink?

It’s a question that has been asked many times, not least in sermons. And it’s a perfectly natural and reasonable question. It’s certainly a question that comes as a challenge to us, reminding us of the many times we, like Peter, have let Jesus down. But the challenge is not destructive or demoralising, because Jesus responds so lovingly to Peter’s failure: we are told that as he saw him begin to go down he “immediately (note that word) reached out his hand and caught him”. Yes, he rebuked him: “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” But the rebuke was loving rather than a telling-off (there’s a big difference), rather the way a parent gently chastises a child.

If you’re anything like me you enjoy the story because it makes you feel better about yourself. After all, if even the human leader of Jesus’ twelve apostles could fail in this dramatic way and still be rescued, perhaps there’s hope for me too! And if the gospel-writers see fit to expose the weakness of their leader in such a public way, well, surely there must be hope for me. Whether we should derive such encouragement or not – well, that’s another question! - are we just administering easy comfort to ourselves? But, whatever, it’s a difficult temptation to resist.

In some ways the story is rather puzzling. It starts (verse 22) with Jesus almost seeming to abandon his disciples: “Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him”. Then what does he do but… climb the nearest mountain to get a bit of solitude for prayer! It’s almost as if he wants to get as far from them as possible, and that’s not easy to understand. They clearly end up with a hard time and a long, dark night, “buffeted by the waves” (verse 24). What is Jesus up to?

His behaviour suggests at least two things.

First, he needed time to himself.

Some Christians suggest that because Jesus was (indeed, is) the Son of God, he was some kind of spiritual super-man, always fully charged with energy and never experiencing weakness of any kind. But that is plain wrong. The reason (for example) he sat and got into conversation with the woman at the well (John 4) was because he was “tired from the journey” and needed a drink (which, by the way, he wasn’t ashamed to ask for). A little later here in Matthew’s Gospel (chapter 26) we read of his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane where he pleaded with God his Father to spare him the torment of crucifixion (… “if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me”) and where the men who have been his companions for his earthly ministry couldn’t even so much as stay awake. To put it in plain terms, he felt agonisingly abandoned and lonely: he needed companionship (as we all do).

And let’s make no mistake: there wasn’t any hint of play-acting in the different trials he was subjected to, nor in his inability to carry the cross to Golgotha, nor in his “cry of dereliction” (“My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”).

No: if Jesus needed that time of solitude, away from his disciples above the Sea of Galilee, it was for some good reason, even if we aren’t told what that was. He was – let’s spell it out – fully human as well as fully divine.

May that great truth be a comfort to those of us who particularly need it at the present time.

Second, Jesus’ behaviour is also explained by the fact that there were times when he needed to put his followers through testing-times.

Muscles grow hard and strong through exercise; they become flabby through under-use. And faith is like that. Certainly, Jesus put his disciples through a hard time that night on the Sea of Galilee. But he knew the kind of struggles their loyalty to him would entail in the months and years to come, so that long-drawn-out night of fear and that personal crisis for Peter would have constituted what today tends to be called a “steep learning curve” for them all.

The Bible suggests that God only ever allows us to have our faith stretched and tested in order to stiffen our spiritual muscles. It’s true that that may seem pretty cold comfort at the time. But it remains true.

Hebrews 12 is a section of the New Testament which focuses specially on this truth. “Endure hardship as a discipline; God is treating you as his children…” (verse 7). And then (verse 10) “God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness” (verse 12).

The storms of life can be hard, and we may sometimes feel unjustly treated – “Lord, it’s not fair!” But let’s notice two things: first, that we should view them as signs of fatherly love, not coldness or indifference, and certainly not cruelty; and second, that they are intended to deepen our holiness, to make us more like God himself. Which, of course, raises the key question: Do I in fact want to be more holy? Really?

Well, while we try and honestly work that out, assuming that we are not presently in a Peter-and-the-apostles situation, perhaps we should turn our thoughts to things we might be doing for those who are…

Father, I fear I would be just as weak as Simon Peter if I were in his shoes. But thank you for the assurance that you love me and that you will never let me go. Give me, please, the gift of true compassion for those who may feel they’re going under. Amen.