It was almost dawn when they saw it.  It was still quite dark, the wind was still gusting, and the waves were still tossing the boat back and forth, but there it was—in the distance a figure was moving upon the water.  Terror gripped them when they realized that it was a man—a ghost, it seemed.  Funny, here was the same group of men who had just days ago been out in the villages casting out demons.  Their report to Jesus must have included tales of the evil spirits that had fled.  Now, at the end of themselves, they shrieked in terror at the sight of a single spirit. 

     Jesus knew they were afraid.  Here they had been struggling for hours, 12 men at the oars and they had barely made it half-way across the sea.  Jesus, in just a few minutes, strolled upon the sea effortlessly – gaining on them, heck, it seemed at first that he would pass them altogether—the wind and waves seemed to have no affect on Jesus, let alone the fact that you just aren’t supposed to be able to walk on water.  But, as he neared the boat, Jesus took pity on his beloved disciples, shouting, “Take courage, it’s me! Don’t be afraid.”

     The disciples cast skeptical looks at each other while they continued to wrestle with the oars.  “Only one way to find out,” thought the impetuous Peter.  “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” replied the Lord.

     And then, before the disciples fully knew what was going on, there was Peter slowly creeping towards the mysterious figure on the water – walking on the water! The wind was still raging, so perhaps only the seasick tax collector, Matthew, hanging his head over the side of the boat witnessed the whole ordeal.  There was Peter walking towards the ghost.  A moment later he was looking disoriented and panicky at the sight of the wind and waves.  And then he was sinking.  A desperate hand was extended, a cry for help, and then there was Jesus firmly clasping the fisherman’s hand.  Now, the two were making their way back to the boat, now climbing into the hull—Peter, wet and panting, practically falling in. 

     And then there was the Lord.  Standing there in the middle of the boat like a conquering hero.  Quite obviously now to everyone, not a ghost.  And quite clearly no mere man.  The oars were still now, like the sea which had all of the sudden grown strangely calm.  The fierce wind had just as quickly become nothing more than a gentle, whispering breeze as the morning sun began to peak up over the Golan Heights in the distance.  The disciples gaped, then knelt, then gave their spent and broken selves over to worship—“Truly you are the Son of God!” someone said.  That seemed about right.