God and the Good Strong Wind

My only real memory of the Mackinac Island ferry was the physical sensation of the wind against my face. I remember, distinctly, that it hurt.

It surprised and confused me because wind had never felt painful before. Looking back now, I realize that it wasn’t just the wind but the spray from the waves that crashed against the side of the ferry — that was what produced the sharp, biting sensation on my skin. But I couldn’t have known that then, because my eyes were clamped shut. I refused to open them, even if I had, I would not have seen much, because my long hair was blown straight across my face.

I was four years old, and it was, in the immortal words of Winnie-the-Pooh, a very blustery day as my family made our way to Mackinac Island. I remember thinking I was going to die. I’m positive now that it wasn’t really all that dramatic, but at four years old, you’re awfully scared of a good strong wind.

Deep inside, aren’t we all, really?

I think of the apostles who cannot recognize Christ — their friend — because he is doing something new. Something impossible. They are so sure he is a ghost, a sinister thing — children are always frightened of what they cannot understand.

And even when he reassures them, still Peter is not convinced. He demands, essentially, a miracle. He demands that Christ make him do what only Christ can do.

And even when the miracle takes place — he walks on water, he defies physics — still he is human. Scared, doubtful, distractible. No match for a good strong wind.

“Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter…” Matthew 14:31

©LPi