What does it mean to be firm in your faith? I found myself asking this as I contemplated today’s Gospel selection from Matthew, where Peter walks on water . . . until he doesn’t.
Many years ago, I used to work for a retailer of yo-yos and juggling equipment. I would also help behind the scenes with the World Yo-Yo Contest, where many of the best players in the world gather and compete with skills that are utterly jaw-dropping if your notion of yo-yoing begins and ends with walking the dog.
In juggling and yo-yoing, there is a notion that I suspect applies to a lot of aspects of life. Many jugglers and yo-yo players — when they start to get good — begin doing tricks that are just a bit outside their comfort zone. This is good and healthy; it encourages those performers to push their skills to new levels. However, many of these folks confuse being able to do something once with being able to do something always. Thus, a juggler goes to juggling five pins, and after lots and lots of practice, he finally does it. Mission accomplished! He can juggle five pins! . . . Right?
In actuality, someone who can really juggle five pins can do so consistently, without thinking about it. Everything we continue practicing and pushing our mastery of goes toward that goal of being firm enough in our abilities that it isn’t a conscious effort.
Think about a five-year-old learning to write his name. He does so scratchily, thinking about each letter, hand shaking as he concentrates on the motion of the pencil or crayon. In comparison, think about how you write your name. You probably don’t think about it. Are you forced to sign something in the dark? No problem. Need to scribble your signature in chalk while it’s raining? You probably could!
All of this is prelude to thinking about the story of Peter walking on water toward Jesus: Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how strong the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
I’ve seen something like this happen in life, with would-be juggling and yo-yoing champions on the stage. A juggler gets out there, confidently holding his five clubs in shaky hands, and then begins to toss the pins . . . only to have them all fall to the ground moments later. He often looks a bit embarrassed, confused, and shaken. Talking with some of them reveals a similar story: “I don’t know what happened! I could do it at home lots of times!” But if you still need to think about it, you’ve not really mastered doing it.
For us humans — with an unbroken legacy of original sin — keeping the faith is hard. Even if we did manage to gather the mustard-seed-sized faith needed to move mountains, how long could we keep it? Is our faith as effortless as scribbling our names on the dozenth piece of paper, or is it as shaky as the five-year-old trying to remember which direction the “E” goes?
Peter thought he had faith. He thought he had it together, and courageously stepped out of the boat . . . and then the situation was more than he could handle, and he began to sink.
In some ways, where Peter was feels almost riskier to me. The other disciples in the boat were not called by Jesus; they never left the boat, nor did they risk drowning. Jesus did not specifically rebuke their faith. No, the one who was challenged by Jesus found his faith specifically insufficient to handle the challenge before him.
How many people have been like Peter, secure in their faith until they were specifically called, only to have the foundations of their beliefs shaken?
Is it better, then, not to have a faith challenged? I’d argue no. Again, look at the other disciples in the boat. Unlike Peter, they didn’t call out to the Lord, and He did not reach out to them. Even in that moment where Peter’s faith was at its most shaken, Christ was there with a hand outstretched to save Peter.
Let us not be like the disciples in the boat, with faiths we know are insufficient for the challenges of life. But, like the juggler dropping five pins on stage, let us also not confuse a faith that is possible in the calmest environment with one that can endure the storms of life. We push our children to practice, practice, practice writing their names, until they can do so without thinking about it. So, too, does the Lord call us to practice, practice, practice our faiths, so that when he calls us out of our comfort zones, we can do the “impossible” thanks to God. And if we falter? Be not afraid; the Lord is there, always, with an outstretched hand.
