I finally took the trip I had been anticipating since childhood. My wife, Lynda, and I went to the Holy Land. It was absolutely incredible. To see places of Biblical significance was truly inspirational. It was heartbreaking, witnessing the current cultural conflict. Many of the sites along our journey were fascinating and disappointing all at the same time. Places of simple beginnings were so over-run with tourist chaos that one could not even imagine the original setting. Regardless, my mind was continually stretched and my eyes were opened and my Biblical appreciation grew.

The places that touched my heart, beyond all others, were the places of natural beauty. Lynda and I were deeply moved as we remembered our baptism in the Jordan. As we stood at the banks of sea, we imagined the disciples fishing while Jesus spoke to them. But the place, the moment, the event that filled my chest with grace, was a trip on a boat on the Sea of Galilee.

We set sail with our group of tourists who had become friends through pilgrimage. It was a beautiful day. The water was graceful as it met the ascending hills all around its banks. The boat glided silently and the chaos of humanity slipped away. The shoreline was undisturbed and I could easily imagine Jesus along a hillside offering the sermon on the mount. I visualized a crowd of people, hungry for food and hungry to hear his Word, I found myself attempting to become a part of the story. I longed to be a participant. I was in the right place, only separated by time.

As if God knew of my longing, the clouds literally rolled in, the wind increased, the temperature dropped and a light afternoon rain began to fall.

I could see Jesus dismissing the crowds, sending the disciples ahead on the very boat I sailed. And the Bible, once again, put me in the center and begged me to consider who I am and who I want to be.

I imagine there is no shelter on the boat but blatant exposure to the elements. I imagine it is loud, chaotic and nerve wracking. I bet the visibility is limited. I imagine clothing is soaked from waves licking over the sides and heavy garments are cumbersome or discarded. I imagine there is a lot of chaos in the air. How far are we from shore? Too close to rocks and we destroy the boat. Too far and peril if the boat capsized. I imagine there is fear, doubt, conflict and confusion among the disciples. I imagine some folks keep their head and some folks lose their cool.

And then Jesus approaches the boat, walking on the water completely at peace. I imagine some see him clearly, easily and quickly. Some recognize the figure to be Christ. I imagine some see a ghost. And I imagine some never see anything at all. And then, in the midst of noise, confusion, doubt and fear, Jesus speaks. I imagine some hear him and others do not. And in the midst of the improbable, walking on the water, without another word spoken, Jesus suggests the impossible. His mere presence on the water seemingly asks for the unfeasible. It suggests the impractical, the ludicrous, the ridiculous, and the dangerous. And one heeds the call, begs to join Jesus and boldly steps over the side of the boat, risking everything while trusting completely.

I imagine Peter was full of crazy emotions: the rush of adrenaline and rising fear, the desire to trust Christ while fighting the panic of drowning. I imagine a moment of realization when he stepped beyond security and found an unexplainable foothold on the top of the water. I sense Peter holding his breath, maybe because he was afraid or maybe because he was excited. And I imagine that just when he realized that what Christ had asked was impossible, when a moment of doubt began to creep into his soul that his trust began to fail that his feet began to lower. I imagine his eyes grew in size, his heart raced and his arms reached to Christ. And Jesus pulled him close, lifted him up, and wrapped his arms around him.