I may certify you, we had all had enough of the stormy moods of Galilee. This time we were not dealing with the ferocity of our previous adventure, but it was enough to cause concern. Perhaps, after our previous experience, we were a bit touchy about storms. And, this time Jesus was not among us. Pounded by waves, we rowed into the teeth of the blow, each of us alone with our anxieties. Hours passed. It seemed we hardly moved. We were about three and a half miles from land halfway across the lake. With dawn only a few hours away, we were exhausted, bone-chilled and bone-tired. Backs and arms ached and headway seemed impossible.

Judas Iscariot was the first to notice. Eyes wide with fear, he lifted his arm and pointed with his finger. "Look!" he gasped. The boat tossed. Rowing stopped. The wind quickly turned the boat broadside and swept it away, rocking into the downwind waves. What we saw sent tremors of terror through each exhausted soul.

There was a man in the water. No! He was not in it, My God! He stood upon it! I gripped my oar as if to use it as a weapon, as if to ward off what appeared to be an apparition of sorts, a spirit of . . .

Thaddeus cried, "It's a spirit!" Fear of the spirit-world gripped most of us, who took mystical beings sometimes too seriously. We did not understand what or who they were. We were frightened because spirit activity was a relatively new thing. A few years ago, few people spoke of spirits. But in these last months, there seemed to be so much spirit activity. Evil spirits. They could do terrible things to people. And just as we were about to throw ourselves into the water and swim for it (inevitable drowning was given no thought), the spirit spoke to us . . .

"Calm down, men! It's just me!"

Jesus! . . . came to us, incredibly, strolling along on the surface of the water. And while waves tossed and sloshed, every place he put his foot was straight, firm and level. It was as if there were an unseen road buried just beneath the surface, unaffected by the waves.

He spoke in such a way that told us it could only be him. Our anxieties vanished and in their place, thunderous amazement.

Peter, exploding with his laughable, impulsive exuberance, shouted back, "Lord, if it is you, let me come to you on the water." And thus I learned why Peter became our leader. He was magnificent! Bursting with ripping courage none of us had! In his mind, there were no precautionary steps. He took risks. He took no careful consideration of possible consequences; no "What if's?" All he needed was an affirmation from his Lord. All he needed was trust, and he had it--at least for the moment--the rest of us had none at all. Sometimes this is just the precise and requisite requirement of leadership.

"Then come ahead, man," Jesus responded. We were astounded. None of us moved. None of us, of course, except Peter. We envied his bravado, or whatever it was that drove him. I guess we forgot that we had just seen Jesus feed thousands of people from a boy's small lunch or, of even greater significance, we had witnessed him turn these very storm-driven waves into calm waters. Had we thought about it, had we realized its significance, we all would have joined Peter--perhaps. We might have frolicked among the white water licking at our knees, never fearing its peril.

Of course, we would not have dared venture out into the waves expecting them to harden beneath our feet, but Peter jumped out of the boat and, amazingly, the water was as firm as cobbled pavement. In this act of simple faith and trust, Peter turned the ridiculous into the sublime. There he was! There is our brother, Peter, standing on the water, just like Jesus! Peter was no stranger to boats rocking in the waves. His sea-legs were as good as, if not better than, any man's. So he stood upright, swayed a bit and then ventured a few steps toward Jesus. Then he stopped, exhilarated, his eyes wide with excitement, and turned to look at us as if to invite us to join him, or just to say, "Hey brothers! Look! Look at me. The old sea-dog still has it in him!" But the water, however capable of supporting his weight, was still wet and slippery. Waves heaving, a gust of wind almost knocked him down. Suddenly, his eyes widened and the "reality" of his situation started to sink in. His balance faltered as the wind whipped his beard into his face. Then, suddenly, his foot slips and he topples into the water with a resounding splash and disappears beneath the foam. It could only have been an instant or two before he bounced to the surface sputtering and sucking for breath. Now Simon Peter was a strong swimmer. So one can only surmise what caused him to cry out to Jesus, "Lord, help!"

Instantly Jesus reached out his hand and caught him, "Ha!" Jesus actually laughed teasingly at him. "Peter the Rock! You live out your name! Will you now sink like a stone?"

It would have been amusing had we not all been in a mild panic. We looked on with some consternation at our brother's embarrassment. He had played the fool yet again and was getting his deserts. Pulling Peter up to the firm surface and steadying him, Jesus looked at us, lined up against the gunnels grinning like monkeys, watching with intense curiosity and some apprehension at the scenario playing out before us. "Come, great fisherman!" said he, "You who are the only one in the boat with courage enough to come out on the water!" Peter's fortitude and faith must have impressed Jesus, as our lack of the same must have dis-impressed him. We stopped grinning. "How is it then," he chided, "that you are so afraid to get wet? How could one such as you have doubted?"

Jesus put his arm around Peter's shoulders as they walked the distance, arm in arm to the boat, and when they came alongside, the wind abruptly died. We were so excited to welcome them that we didn't even notice the wonder of the thing. We were confused and so filled with exhilaration that we could only say to him, "Truly, Lord, you are the Son of God!"

"If I am who you say, how is it you all acted so cowardly? How is it that none of you followed your brother Peter? No doubt this story will be told again, repeatedly, in the days to come. But I venture that few will emphasize Simon's faith and courage. As men will do, he will be criticized for falling into the water. I am not pleased with such assessments, nor am I pleased with grinning over the gunnels at the expense of your brother."

The rebuke stung. But what he said was true. In the years to come whenever I would hear this story told, it was invariably told with emphasis in the wrong place--on Peter and his failure, not on his courage or our cowardice! Herein I learned, hopefully, we all learned, that it is better to take risks, to launch out in faith, even if it appears we are destined to fail, than not to launch out at all.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the boat jarred as if it had struck something hard. It had. We awoke out of our bewilderment and realized that we had reached land. The bottom of the boat rested on the beach. We were at Gennesaret. How had this happened? The sails were struck. We were not rowing. We were in the middle of the lake and now we were here. Perhaps we misjudged?

The sky turned from grey to a brightening blue as the sun ascended, erupting like fire from the eastern mountains. Air currents swirled softly around us. Fishermen who early tended their nets stood round about, gazing at us in curiosity. Some recognized Jesus and sent word to the countryside. In a few hours, it all started again. Crowds of people bringing their sick and begging to touch the edge of his robe. All who did were healed.

We stayed a few days in Gennesaret and then made our way back across the sea to Capharnaum. Sight of the familiar town ahead brought warm smiles to our faces. Joanna was not only a good cook; her knack for making things comfortable made staying at Peter's home an experience to look forward to.

The next morning Peter took a little time to fish, which unfailingly lifted his spirits and recharged his humor. That afternoon he walked in the house carrying a basket of fish, full to the brim. "The fragrance of the flowers in Joanna's garden may sweeten the house, but deep down, I know you all prefer the smells of fresh roasting fish. Here's dinner," he smiled as Joanna greeted him. He handed her the basket. "I cleaned 'em, you cook 'em."

Peter's uncomplicated, spontaneous and sometimes surly temperament kept us all on our toes, but we knew we could depend on him to handle things. And we knew where he stood; he always made that clear. It was this kind of openness and genuineness that Jesus valued in others.