He stood tall at the bow, bracing against a crisp wind that shoved the boat far offshore. It was an old friend, this invisible breath—salty, healing, stirring memories that steadied his soul through dark nights at sea.
Matthew’s voice broke the rhythm. “What are we to do? How will we meet him?”
Peter snapped back to the moment, the disciples’ presence jarring him. They were always adrift, these twelve—following the Master’s orders, puzzling over his parables, yet blind to what each day held. It was his way.
“How should I know, Matthew?” Peter squinted at the tax collector’s silhouette in the gloom. “You saw him same as me—climbing the mountain while he sent us out. We’ll reach the other side and wait.”
He turned back to the horizon. Stars and moon offered little; only steady waves and a restless wind marked the night. They’d wait for dawn.
At the stern, a stir erupted. Three or four disciples pointed into the abyss, then stumbled back in terror. “A spirit’s coming for us!”
Peter strode toward them, unshaken. Fishermen knew these tales—ghosts and sea monsters spooking greenhorns on night watch. More ducked behind him as he took the lead. Bartholomew cowered at his feet, unsteady as Peter had pegged him from the start.
“What did you see?” Peter asked.
“Something’s coming!” Bartholomew gasped. “It was walking!”
Peter scanned the water, the boat pitching on swelling waves. Moonlight glinted faintly off the ripples—nothing more. Every disciple now pressed close, roused from sleep, peering out. Peter’s frustration flared. A chaotic watch spelled a wasted day.
Then it happened.
A cloud parted, spilling just enough light to prove Bartholomew right. There, clear as day, a figure walked toward them across the sea.
Shrieks tore from every throat but Peter’s, piercing the night. Even steady John crumpled in the chaos. Panic gripped the boat, wild and uncontained at 3:30 a.m. in the deep dark.
Peter flinched, shrinking back, when a voice cut through the wind and whimpers. “Men, take courage! It’s me! Don’t fear!”
Panic dissolved in a heartbeat. Thirty yards off, unmistakable—Jesus, striding atop the waves.
They stood, glimpsing him through the gloom. Something seized Peter, fiercer than the others. He’d mastered these waters for years—his domain—and this defiance of nature ignited him. He had to know it, had to feel it.
“Lord, if it’s you, command me to come!” he shouted, heart ablaze, craving the impossible.
“Come,” Jesus said.
Peter stepped off the stern. Gasps rang out as he didn’t sink. Then the fire flickered—the boat drifted, leaving him stranded. Wind bit colder, waves tossed harder. His years at sea turned traitor, whispering death. Every fisherman dreaded drowning, the sea’s patient hunger claiming its due.
He sank—rocks always do—shrieking now like the rest. “Lord, save me!”
Jesus never rushed—except when salvation called. Instantly, he was there, hand strong and sure, pulling Peter from the depths. Clutching him close, Jesus smiled, tender. “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Peter knew the answer. Fear, darkness, the storm’s roar—they’d stolen his trust. But no more.
Then they walked.
No cheers greeted them at the boat, arm in arm. Peter climbed aboard and fell to his face. The others followed, hushed. One by one, murmurs of awe broke the silence: “Truly you are the Son of God.”
The Rock lay prostrate again in a fishing boat, humbled and enthralled. Walking with the Savior had a new weight now.
Song 4- Two Men on the Water
(Verse 1 - Disciples, murmuring)
The night is deep, the wind is high,
The sea is restless, no stars in the sky.
We wait and wonder, lost in the tide,
How will He find us? How will we abide?
(Matthew, anxious)
Peter, what do we do? Where will He meet us?
We left Him behind—does He even need us?
(Peter, firm but uncertain)
He said to go, to cross to the shore,
So we sail and we wait, nothing more.
(Chorus - Disciples, in fear)
There’s something moving on the sea,
A shadow rising silently.
A spirit comes, a ghost, a wraith!
Terror grips us—O God, keep us safe!
(Peter, defiant but shaken)
Hold your ground! Stand with me!
It’s only the waves, it’s just the sea!
(Disciples, pointing)
No, no, look there—beyond the foam,
A man walks the water as if it’s stone!
(Jesus, voice strong and clear)
Take courage, my brothers, do not fear!
It is I! I am here!
(Chorus - Disciples, in awe)
It is Him! The Lord has come!
He walks where no man dares to run!
The wind bows down, the waves are still,
The sea obeys the Master’s will!
(Peter, breathless, in longing)
Lord, if it’s You, then bid me too!
Let me walk this path with You!
(Jesus, simply)
Come.
(Bridge - Instrumental swells, Peter steps out, tension builds)
(Peter, triumphant)
I step, I stand! I feel the tide
Holding firm beneath my stride!
The air is light, the stars ignite—
I am walking in the night!
(Sudden shift - Wind howls, Peter falters)
But oh—the waves! The storm returns!
The water’s pull, the current churns!
My heart betrays, my courage flees—
I am drowning, Lord, save me!
(Jesus, reaching, swift and sure)
O you of little faith, why did you doubt?
(Climax - Music swells as Jesus lifts Peter)
(Peter, whispered in awe)
His hand is strong, His grip is sure,
No fear remains, no storm endures.
(Chorus - Disciples, hushed in worship)
They walk together, side by side,
Across the waves, against the tide.
The sea bows low, the storm is gone,
The night is still, the dawn comes on.
(Final lines - All, reverent and triumphant)
Truly, Lord, You are divine,
Master of the sea and time!
We bow before Your mighty hand—
The Son of God walks on the land!
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