Get out of the boat!

Matthew 14:22–33 tells the famous story of Jesus walking on the water. You know, the one where the disciples are in the middle of the lake, the wind is howling, and suddenly—here comes Jesus, casually strolling across the waves like it’s no big deal.

Now, I don’t know about you, but if I see someone walking on water at 3 a.m., my first thought isn’t “Oh, how holy!” It’s more like, “Yup, this is how I die. Sharknado.”

But Peter—good old impulsive Peter—calls out, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you on the water.” And Jesus says the one word that changes everything: “Come.”

So Peter gets out of the boat. Can we pause here? Everyone else is still clinging to their seats, white-knuckled. But Peter actually swings a leg overboard. For a brief, glorious moment, he too is walking on water! Until he looks around at the waves, realizes how impossible it all is, panics, and promptly sinks like a rock.

Of course, Jesus reaches out, pulls him up, and together they climb back into the boat. Lesson learned.

Here’s what I love about this story: Peter failed—but he also experienced something none of the other disciples did. He walked on water, even if only for a few steps. Why? Because he was willing to risk, to trust, to get out of the boat.

Sometimes faith looks a little reckless. It might even look foolish to others. But that one step out of your comfort zone is the very place you discover the power of God.

So here’s the challenge: What’s your boat? Where are you clinging on tight because it feels safer than stepping out into the waves?

Jesus is still saying “Come.” Don’t be afraid of sinking—He’ll be there to catch you. Be afraid of never stepping out at all.

The importance of a life jacket

So this summer Brian found a wonderful deal on a little sailboat for the lake at the cottage. He was so excited—as excited as Brian can be—to get out on the lake.

On his third trip out he noticed that the auto bailer (the device on the boat that automatically pumps out water that gathers in the boat) was not working properly. He did some Googling and thought he had figured out the problem. So when the wind picked up on this particular afternoon, he invited me to join him.

It was the most wind we had experienced in a while, and Brian was practically giddy (again, as giddy as Brian can be) to get out on his new toy and share the adventure with me.

I met him on the dock, grabbed a bright yellow life jacket, and off we went.

It was windy. A sailor’s dream, and a non-sailor’s nightmare.

The boat was moving quickly and that was fine, but water began gathering in the bottom of the boat. Then more water. Then even more. I would not be exaggerating to say that three-quarters of the boat was full of water. I am no sailor, but that just looked wrong.

“Brian… your auto bailer is not working. We should head back so you can fix this. This does not feel safe,” I said, calmly ;)

But Brian was too distracted to hear me because he was busy fixing some line connected to another line that was probably attached to another line. Regardless, he did not heed my concern. Moments later, a big gust of wind caused the boat to heel and—try as we might—the boat capsized. It happened so fast.

I was hanging onto the boat for dear life when I heard Brian say, as calmly as if he were asking me to pass the salt, “Get in the water.”

So, I got in the water. But then the sleeve of my SPF coverup got caught on some boat thingy and I couldn’t break away. After some frantic yanking (goodbye sleeve), I finally swam out of the way of the sail that was now sinking beneath us. Meanwhile, Brian climbed back on the boat, threw his whole weight on the centerboard, and—just like that—righted the boat.

There was no way I was getting back in that boat. Nope. Not happening. So I announced I would swim back. It was only 400 meters, but let me tell you, I felt like Diana Nyad (watch the movie Nyad) braving the waves, fatigue, and sharks. Okay, there were no sharks, but it was wavy. And swimming with a life jacket is not exactly graceful.

Meanwhile, Brian sailed toward the cottage. And I thought, “Oh, good. He’s going to drop off the sailboat, get the motorboat, and come rescue me.” But alas, he caught a beautiful breeze and—like a man on vacation with no worries at all—sailed in the opposite direction.

So there I was, doing the backstroke toward shore, thinking: Where is God in all this?

And here’s where I landed: God is the life jacket.

That bright yellow, slightly awkward, not-so-stylish jacket was the only reason I could laugh about this adventure instead of panic. I didn’t have to be a strong swimmer. I didn’t have to keep myself afloat by sheer willpower. The life jacket carried me—through the waves, through the exhaustion, through the ridiculousness of being abandoned (lovingly, of course) by my husband who had sailed off into the sunset.

In the same way, Jesus is the One who keeps us afloat when life capsizes. He doesn’t always stop the wind from blowing or the waves from crashing. Sometimes the auto bailer fails, the boat tips, and we find ourselves flailing. But He is the One who says, “Put me on. Trust me. I’ll carry you.”

Life jackets don’t look glamorous. They’re bulky, awkward, and they mess up your tan. But they save your life. And Jesus—our ultimate Life Jacket—saves us not just for the swim back to shore, but for eternity.

So maybe next time the winds rise and you feel like you’re going under, remember: you’re not. Because He’s got you.

Finding my centre at the wheel

This summer I had the privilege of taking Ceramics II at the Haliburton School of Art and Design. What a joy it was to spend a week with clay on the wheel, learning, experimenting, and creating. One of the very first lessons we were reminded of is that the most important step in throwing any pot is centering.

If the clay isn’t centered on the wheel, the entire pot will be off. It may wobble, misshape, or simply not rise to its full potential. No matter how skilled you are, if you skip centering, the vessel will never become what it was meant to be.

As I worked at the wheel, I couldn’t help but think—how true that is for our lives as well. If we are not centered, we too become pulled off balance, stretched thin, or unable to grow into all that God intends.

For me, centering means returning daily to God—the One who grounds me. It means prayer before rushing into the day, opening Scripture before opening my inbox, and remembering that my worth doesn’t come from productivity but from being a beloved child of God. When I take time to be centered in God, my life is steadier, my perspective clearer, and my spirit more at peace.

Just as a potter presses firmly, guiding the clay into alignment with the wheel, God lovingly shapes and steadies us when we turn back to that center. And in God’s care, we become vessels for goodness and grace.

Maybe that’s the invitation for us all today: pause, breathe, and find your center in God. The rest of the day will take its shape from there.

“Yet you, Lord, are our Parent. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” — Isaiah 64:8