Sinking Springs
The caller on the phone – a woman I had never met in person – was desperate. “Father, I am just so tired.”
You could hear it – she was literally hanging-on by a thread.
Her health was a mess, both physically and mentally. Her family relationships in shambles. She pushed her friends away. Even her faith was, in her words, dying.
“I don’t feel Him anywhere near me,” she cried. “My prayers aren’t being answered. Nothing brings me comfort like it used to.”
This caller was sinking rapidly below the water of despair. Like Peter in today’s Gospel (Matt 14:22-33), she too was nearly yelling aloud: “Lord, save me.”
I wish I could say that this shared phone conversation changed things dramatically; that grace touched her heart and mind and she was able to walk on the water again, confident in the love of Christ for her.
That hasn’t been the case, though. Just last week, a high school classmate of hers called to say that things were still pretty bad. There was hospitalization now, and even further family estrangement. Reportedly, the one who clung to the last thread of her Catholic faith now was telling anyone who would listen: there is no God.
What do you do when the waters of pain and suffering keep pulling you under? What do you do when failure and defeat seems to keep winning? What do you do when the word “immediately” and Jesus don’t seem to go together, as Matthew declares it to be in the rescue of Peter -- immediate?
It’s easy to say (to others, especially): keep swimming. Keep treading water; God’s at work. Just don’t let yourself go under.
But truly, it really is ever so easy to sink at moments like these, isn’t it? There is something almost attractive about giving-up and giving-in: to say “I’m no good,” or “I don’t deserve to be happy.”
However, this must be said -- and said over-and-over to everyone who has ever felt like the waters are just too much to rise above and walk upon: even in the depths of the sinking moments of our lives, God’s love is right there. In fact, it is in those darkest, most-fearful depths under the waves where Christ wants to reach us. It’s the very reason why He came, why He died, why He rose and now feeds us.
To sink to the depths of our lives in order to save us and love us into wholeness.
I used to believe the greatest act of courage on display in this particular Gospel account was the exact moment Peter stepped over the edge of his boat and put that first foot atop the waves, not knowing the outcome. Could the power of Jesus really make this happen? Is Jesus even really there calling him to make this bold move?
No doubt, it was – and is – a true act of courageous faith. We are all called to these moments, and I hope that in the days ahead, you take some time to prayerfully reflect upon these moments on your own faith-and-life journey: the courage to step-out of the boat and move to a new city; the courage to ask someone on a date; the boldness it takes to follow a call, a passion or a dream that you believe God has called you to fulfill. Doing so requires a Peter-like, prayer-based trust, and how beautiful it is when we have the courage to make that step.
But … what happens when that dream isn’t fulfilled? That city you moved to is one filled with loneliness and a dead-end job? The person you fell in love with walks away from the relationship you poured everything into?
What happens when the courage of walking-on-water in these once-powerful milestone moments leads to a sudden plummeting into the depths of despair, depression, and seeming-separation from the comforts of faith? What happens when the waves and darkness seem more powerful than the God who called you to step-out in the first place?
I can’t help but wonder, quite honestly, if the Lord permits – not necessarily causes -- these moments in our lives not to test or punish us, but rather to draw us deeper into authentic relationship with Him?
What if He allows us to sink beneath in order for us to come to the realization that we can’t save ourselves? What if we begin to drown in order to fall deeper in love and trust with the only One who can pull us from the storms we face?
What if only through sinking do we learn to genuinely cry-out from both mind and heart, “Lord, save me?”
Think about this: maybe Peter’s real love and complete trust in Christ came more from the moment of sinking salvation (crying out for a Savior) than it did when he first stepped out of the boat. Not that faith and courage don’t grow in leaving the boat moments … but maybe it is only the beginning.
Maybe real faith and love grow when we reach out from under the darkness of the greatest depths of our suffering and give everything – everything – to Jesus Christ. Maybe the real moment of genuine relationship starts in the quiet silent cry of “Jesus, have mercy on me. Help me, I’m drowning.”
I’ve been thinking a lot of the woman who called me the other day. Picking-up that phone to call a priest she didn’t know certainly was a stepping-out-of-the-boat moment. She should be proud of that. She should be an example for all of us who seek to be courageous in such moments of crisis, doubt, worry and fear.
And yet, here’s what I wish I said to her that day on the phone, at the very moment she said, “I just don’t know where God is anymore, and I am so tired.” I wish I had said: “Right here is the bravest act of faith I have ever witnessed. You are brave enough to cry out – ‘I don’t know where You are, Lord, and I need You.’ ” That’s the definition of faith, and from here, it can only rise above.
Like the other disciples on the boat that early morning watching Peter sink beneath the waves, say a prayer or two as they assuredly did for one of their own on behalf of this truly courageous woman for whom Jesus is stretching out His Hand and Heart. Pray she accepts the Love reaching into her darkest depths.
She’s not alone. So many around us are sinking, and God is forever reaching out, often through our words and acts of compassion. He often says in and through us: “I am here. I love you. Be not afraid.”
Moving forward this week, please pray that these beautiful-and-suffering souls see just how brave they are in crying out, and just how much Jesus truly longs to save them – and us, as well.