The wind howled across the sea. Waves crashed like thunder in the dark of night. The disciples strained at the oars, their boat tossed like a toy on the wild waters of the Sea of Galilee.
They had set out across the lake at Jesus’ command, after He had fed thousands with just five loaves and two fish. Jesus had stayed behind on the mountainside to pray alone, while they battled the storm, hour after hour, with no land in sight.
The night grew darker. Their arms ached. The wind never let up. Then, sometime between three and six in the morning—when fear runs deepest—they saw something, someone, walking toward them… on the water.
A figure, steady and calm, walking atop the raging waves.
Their hearts pounded. “It’s a ghost!” someone cried out in terror. They all shouted in fear.
But then came a voice—strong, sure, and familiar.
“Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.”
It was Jesus.
Peter, ever the bold one, called back over the wind, “Lord, if it’s really You, tell me to come to You on the water!”
And Jesus said, “Come.”
So Peter stepped out of the boat, his feet touching the impossible. The water held him. Eyes locked on Jesus, he walked forward, one step, then another.
But the wind howled louder. A towering wave rose to his side. Peter looked away from Jesus, and in that instant, fear overtook him. He began to sink.
“Lord, save me!” he cried.
Immediately, Jesus reached out His hand and caught him.
“O you of little faith,” Jesus said gently, “why did you doubt?”
And together they climbed into the boat.
The wind stopped.
The sea became still.
The storm, silenced.
A hush fell over the disciples. Awe filled their hearts. And they worshiped Him, saying,
“Truly, You are the Son of God.”
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