The Man Who Walked on Water

No one remembers what it was like to learn to walk. No, in the vast seas of our memory, that formative year right after we are pushed out of our mother's womb is all but submerged, lost like an ill-fated ship at the very bottom where corals dwell. And yet, somehow, in the depths of our core, our muscles recall every single process, could always perfectly stretch out and strain in order to execute the routine of us standing up, lifting a leg, and advancing with one foot in front of the other. Meanwhile, to our conscious, the entire orchestrated dance seems automatic. Certainly, save for injury, only a fool would want to repeat the lengthy procedure of acquiring one of life’s most basic skills.

At least, a “fool” is what they called me the day I extended a leg over the starboard of the wooden boat I was on and let my quaking foot touch the tumultuous depths, when I dared to walk on water. Yes, I realise it sounds completely daft; why would a fisherman --- someone who has lived their entire life knowing the refuge of a deck --- choose to step out of a vessel and into a wine dark sea?

That very question didn’t even cross my mind when I saw one of my closest Friends, He who just the day before fed a multitude with a little boy’s lunch. standing defiantly over a storm-whipped ocean. From my vantage point on a craft being tossed and turned on furious crests, His face glowed the light of a billion stars on a midnight tide.

Of course, to those of us on the choppy tides, He looked more like a….

“Ghost! No, stay away,” a chorus of yells inundated with trepidation wailed.

“No, no, don’t be afraid. It is I,” my Friend replied. He deftly floated above the waves to approach our gaggle of screaming lungs. Once He was near, we could clearly make out the signature tranquillity in His countenance.

 “What is He…how,” I heard one of my companions, Thomas, sputter, almost as if every word were a trickle. “That can’t be now.”

My Friend could only shake His head like a ship in a tempest.

“You’re doubting a…”

“If you truly say who You really are, invite me to come to You. Oh wait, I…”

As soon as the words came gushing out of my mouth, I felt a whirlpool swirl inside of my stomach. My hand flew to my mouth as tried to hold back the wellspring that just bubbled out of me.

“Uh, what I mean is…I really…”

“Peter, I’m glad you asked. I want you to come to Me.”

I gawked at my Friend positioned upright on the current and gripped the wooden hull as I tried to wrack my brain on how to backtrack.

“No, you see, I was carried away. So astonished by You and…”

“Just come. Eyes on Me.”

My brow furrowed into a wave as I faced my grinning Buddy.

“What do you mean,” I responded. I strained my throat to hide the shaking in my interior. “Humans don’t walk on water, Bud, you know that.”

From the boat, I saw Him fix His eyes upon my own.

“Do you trust Me when I say that you can?”

I stared at the Man upright in the waters as the breakers of realisation crashed over me.

Yes, they say humans can’t walk on water, but were they there when He treaded the seas just to show me a life beyond what I already knew? Perhaps, it was a strange sight: a Teacher --- respected, listened to, washed --- approaching a man who reeked of tilapia and the blazing sun, and yet, He did not mind. In the eyes of the Pharisees, we were on two opposite coasts separated by a boundless ocean, and yet He traversed it to talk to my brother and me. When He asked us --- just two men whose only knowledge was how to cast a net --- to be fishers of men, to speak before crowds, it was somehow so easy to say yes. Since that day, I’ve learnt to let a waterfall of words come out of my mouth, no longer walled in by a dam-like insecurity.

Yes, they say humans can’t walk on water, but are they there each time He takes time to plunge into the depths of my soul to get to know me? A few years ago, my Friend had started to develop quite a following. Everywhere He turns, people are ready to swamp Him; it has been a flow of life that our group has had to get used to. Despite all of that, though, when all is quiet and tranquil like a placid lake, He always relished those peaceful moments on the shores, out where I’m right at home, to just chat and build on our friendship…just as much as I did.

Yes, they say humans can’t walk on water, but were they there each time He had cured the lame or fed thousands of people, had reset everything in lives as trouble-free as simply washing them with the clearest water? I’d witnessed with my own eyes the power flowing through Him, an undeniable force that had opened eyes and provided sustenance. Most of all, being so close to Him, I’d seen an even more powerful impetus to all of the astonishing: love.

Yes, they say humans can’t walk on water, but my Friend sure is able to…and because He called me, I can.

“Eyes on You, is that it?”

“Yes, precisely, that. Come to me.”

I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the familiar wooden craft and onto the waves.

“Hey, you’re acting a fool, Peter! Are you crazy,” bellowed my squawking sea companions. Their cries, however, were drowned out by a crest of determination that rose in me.

“Yes, you’re doing it,” my Friend beamed. “Closer, closer.”

And that is precisely how I became the man who walked on water: because I was close enough to know I wasn’t a fool for it, because I knew there was nothing foolish about