It is a quiet night at sea. The soft silver glow of the full moon majestically unfolds around us, flawlessly shining upon the dark blue waters as we peacefully navigate across the sea of Galilee. The timid murmuring of the wind ever so slightly brushes against my skin. From my end of the boat I can hear Mark and Matthew discussing the events of the day. As usual, Peter unapologetically contributes his opinion to the conversation. Luke sits across them, taciturn.

On the other end of the boat is Jesus. Sweet, patient Jesus. After all this time of knowing Him I still can’t fully comprehend Him or His ministry. All I know is that if I don’t stick around Him while I have the chance to, I will regret it later. Dusty feet, pillow under head; He soundly sleeps, undisturbed.  The exhaustion of the day reflects upon His countenance, yet, there is a peaceful expression about Him I can’t possibly describe.

 After a hectic day at shore, all I can do is lay on my back and lose myself into the starry firmament. I have no energy nor desire to talk, so I just listen. Not too far from us, I can hear the unintelligible conversations of the smaller boats that surround us.  The same people to whom Jesus spent the day teaching, have followed Him into the water. I can’t blame them, for I feel the same; I can never get enough of Him either.

As the ever so subtle rhythm of the waves gently rocks our boat, my eyelids start to turn heavy. Yet, a part of me refuses to fall asleep. Even though I was raised practically at sea, I am deathly afraid of the water; how ironic!

All of a sudden everything stops.  The temperature drops, and the boat rocks no more. I lay perfectly still. Then, a single drop of rain falls on my left cheek. It’s coldness cuts through me like a knife. A chill goes up my spine, my heart rate accelerates, and I start to feel short of breath. I refuse to open my eyes, because I know a storm is coming.

Yes, a storm is coming. A blinding flash of light abruptly illuminates the night sky.  For a split second it feels like daytime. And then, it’s dark again… even darker than it was before. Silence breaks by the unforgiving roar of a thunder, and the peace that was before is now gone.

The sea turns violent, the wind and the waves are against us. Our little boat starts to succumb to the merciless hand of the storm.

We are sinking

Is this it?

The other disciples jump into action.  Even though I know how to deal with a storm, this time around I just sit frozen in panic. Every human knowledge fails. Overwhelmed with desperation, the disciples start to scoop the water out of the boat with whatever they have at hand.

Unable to take action, I attempt to hold on to the edge of the boat to escape from falling off.

And I want to scream: “Jesus wake up!”  “Jesus, we perish!” but my throat closes up and I am unable to make a sound.

Thunder and lightning pierce through the darkness and I am able to catch a glimpse of Jesus. My heart faints at the sight. In the midst of chaos, He sleeps. How can He sleep at such a time as this? I want to reach out to Him, shake Him, wake Him, grab on to Him; but there is too much going on, and my feet won’t respond.  And the space between Jesus and I that was only a boat long, seems now impossible to overcome.

How did this suddenly become the worst night of my life, and possibly the last? I can feel the sharp claws of death creep their way into my soul.

Exhausted and desperate, the disciples begin to yell at Jesus. But the storm is too loud, and their voices drown out, so they yell even louder:

“Jesus! don’t you care that we perish?!”

Finally, Jesus opens His eyes. With royal authority He stands up, looks to His left, then to His right, raises His hands, and as He takes a deep breath, looks straight into my eyes and says: “Peace, be still”.

Is He talking to the storm? Or is He talking to me?

“O ye of little faith” He adds, with unmistakable sorrow in His voice.  Unable to hold His gaze I look away overwhelmed with shame.

I feel a crushing pressure on my chest. My eyes swell up with tears.

Inside of me I scream: “but I want to have faith, I want to have faith! Jesus, help me have faith! ”

I desperately want Him to hear me, but the lump in my throat gets in the way. If only He could read my thoughts…

After a minute or two I finally dare to look up, and when I do, I meet His eyes once again.  This time, however, I can’t look away. His loving gaze takes over  me. His tender smile tames away my fears. An indescribable peace like I’ve never experienced before flows through me. From across the boat I can feel His sweet embrace.

Under the moonlight I  can’t help but notice the astonished expression of the disciples. “Who is this man, that even the winds obey Him?” they wonder perplexed.

I know who He is. His name is Jesus, Jesus of Nazareth. He is the Maker of the universe, and the Master of my soul. And as long as He’s on board, there is no storm that could ever drown me; now I know it.

Arms over head, I lay on my back and contemplate the starry night. It is a quiet night at sea once again, and my heart is at peace for the very first time.