I am not particularly “open” to the world of spirits; I prefer the company of the living. But once I experienced what seemed to me to be the strong presence of God in a room where I was praying, and I confess I was terrified. Intrusions of the spiritual Other, even when holy, often inspire fear. Most angelic encounters recorded in the bible start with the angel saying, “Do not be afraid…”
So it is here:
And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."
What was more frightening, I wonder – the sight of Jesus strolling on the surface of the water, or the thought he might be a ghost? Neither notion is comforting. Apparitions from the beyond are no more unsettling than seeing the seemingly immutable laws of nature overturned. We expect reality to behave in the ways we have observed; the supernatural messes with our filing system.
Yet, an intrusion of the Other into our neatly categorized world is exactly what we celebrate as Christians: the cataclysmic intrusion of God into human form and life in Christ, and in these days after Pentecost, the constant intrusion of the Holy Spirit in our lives and selves. Sometimes those encounters are powerful enough to inspire awe in us – and occasionally even fear. And so these words of Jesus are for us, too: “Take heart. Take heart, I am here.”
In our story, the disciples have also been coping with high waves and a nasty headwind pushing them further and further from shore. “Take heart” was Jesus’ invitation to trust and allow his peace to flow into them, even as he spoke these words standing on the stormy sea.
Beyond the storms of pandemic and racial injustice, we have just endured a literal storm; where I live the winds and waves were wild. What winds are you sailing into in your life at present, keeping you from getting to shore, to any kind of stability and peace? Any waves threatening to swamp your boat? Today in prayer imagine yourself in a storm-tossed boat, bringing to mind specifically those things that are causing the wind and the waves. And then see Jesus outside the boat, walking on the water toward you, peaceful, calm, in control. Does knowing he’s right there change how you feel about these challenges? Invite him into each one.
I pray that we will enjoy a holy intrusion into our quotidian routines. I hope the Holy Spirit shows up, bidden or not, and lets us know she’s there. I hope he still the storms in us, and gives the assurance we need that God does not stay out of our lives, but comes as close as we will allow, unbound by the limits we live with. As we allow God to come closer still, we will find ourselves less bound by those limits too.
What was more frightening, I wonder – the sight of Jesus strolling on the surface of the water, or the thought he might be a ghost? Neither notion is comforting. Apparitions from the beyond are no more unsettling than seeing the seemingly immutable laws of nature overturned. We expect reality to behave in the ways we have observed; the supernatural messes with our filing system.
Yet, an intrusion of the Other into our neatly categorized world is exactly what we celebrate as Christians: the cataclysmic intrusion of God into human form and life in Christ, and in these days after Pentecost, the constant intrusion of the Holy Spirit in our lives and selves. Sometimes those encounters are powerful enough to inspire awe in us – and occasionally even fear. And so these words of Jesus are for us, too: “Take heart. Take heart, I am here.”
In our story, the disciples have also been coping with high waves and a nasty headwind pushing them further and further from shore. “Take heart” was Jesus’ invitation to trust and allow his peace to flow into them, even as he spoke these words standing on the stormy sea.
Beyond the storms of pandemic and racial injustice, we have just endured a literal storm; where I live the winds and waves were wild. What winds are you sailing into in your life at present, keeping you from getting to shore, to any kind of stability and peace? Any waves threatening to swamp your boat? Today in prayer imagine yourself in a storm-tossed boat, bringing to mind specifically those things that are causing the wind and the waves. And then see Jesus outside the boat, walking on the water toward you, peaceful, calm, in control. Does knowing he’s right there change how you feel about these challenges? Invite him into each one.
I pray that we will enjoy a holy intrusion into our quotidian routines. I hope the Holy Spirit shows up, bidden or not, and lets us know she’s there. I hope he still the storms in us, and gives the assurance we need that God does not stay out of our lives, but comes as close as we will allow, unbound by the limits we live with. As we allow God to come closer still, we will find ourselves less bound by those limits too.
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