Treading Water

Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened and—beginning to sink—he cried out, “Lord, save me!” – Matthew 14:29b-30 (NRSV) 

In advanced swimming lessons and lifeguard training, many years ago, I loved the timed tests for treading water. Far from being a challenge to exert as much energy and strength as possible, treading water was a challenge to conserve energy. 

Living as we do in a society that values the constant exertion of energy and productivity, we’re frequently told: Keep up, or you’ll lose out. Be fast, stay relevant, or you’ll drown in the system that already assumes you’re disposable. 

Unfortunately, resistance efforts against such devouring capitalism can all-too-easily mirror the same message of that system’s structures: Be constantly vigilant! Respond quickly! Multi-task! Press on! Keep up! In the name of God and for the sake of one another, we can be tempted to believe nothing less than 110% of our energy is acceptable. 

In the early morning when Jesus told Peter to walk across the water, Peter was exhausted from a sleepless night of wrestling against winds and waves alongside other disciples in their boat. He hadn’t had his coffee yet. His clothes were cold and damp. Of course—God knows!—Jesus doesn’t wait for us to be primped and primed before calling us to bold action, but Peter barely had the strength to stand that morning, let alone walk on water. 

Our fleshiness is integral to our faith. Our rest is essential to our hope. We who are motes of dust are not meant to live our Christian discipleship in hyperdrive. 

The call to walk on water needs us to be brave enough to believe that water—that life—is meant to sustain us, not overtake and drown us. And trusting water, in my experience, is best practiced by treading water, by allowing life to uphold us with rest.