This season that I’m in right now is nothing like The World Race that I imagined. If I’m being honest, I was convinced that I’d be a whole lot more useful and quite frankly, a whole lot more important. Before leaving home, I was pretty excited about the new title of “missionary” and spent hours dreaming about big things I would do around the world. In all that time, I never once considered that some of my days might be empty… that earth shattering encounters might not fall into my lap each and every day.
In these restless moments I have learned that I am Peter.
So eager to dive in head first and do drastic things in the name of Jesus. The way Peter jumped out of the boat to swim to the shore where Jesus stood; so excited and ready to act without thinking it through. This is me, oh this is so me. God has blessed me with a dreamer’s heart and for that I am grateful. I love that He gave me the capacity to love quickly and deeply, to try new things and take crazy risks.
But I am learning that my heart for the big moments has a tendency to leave little room for the precious small ones.
With no less than 12 free hours each day, with Thursday’s, Saturday’s AND Sunday’s off from ministry and with no solid schedule to fill the remaining days… I have stopped countless times to wonder, “okay God, are we sure this was the plan when You called me here?”
Of course He is sure. God knows the heart He created in me and oh how He loves it… quick, anxious and yes, at times irrational. But He also knew that it was going to take this exact set of circumstances to bring me to my knees and listen close enough to hear Him. God knew that vacant hours would be necessary in order to see Him in the small, quiet moments… precious hours at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, listening to the voice of my Father… sister Sarah singing sweet hymns while cooking over the stove… team dinners on the floor, lit only by the sunset coming in through the window. I wouldn’t realize that my need to dash from one responsibility to the next doesn’t make me a “good Christian” and it isn’t going to make Him love me any more than He already does.
I wouldn’t learn that what God does in the tiny corners of my day-to-day life is stunning and gorgeous and headline-making, despite my nasty habit of saving the headlines for the miraculous and earth shattering.
I dive off of the safe, dry boat as Peter did and I swim the treacherous waters all with the hope of reaching Him sooner. I know the boat will get there; dry, safe and with everyone onboard given God’s grace and love and mercy just the same. Yet, I see Him there on the shore as I swim, arms outstretched for a big, wet hug and loving the fact that I adored Him enough to jump out of the boat.
I am Peter and I pray to be even more like him, on fire for God and forever jumping into the water with excitement to serve Him.
I like to think that Jesus loves my eagerness and my excitement. That He is proud of the way I try to do big things in His name. That even in the moments when He gently reminds me to slow down and listen a little closer, He knows my wild heartbeat is for Him.
So I will continue to jump out of the boat, perhaps making things more difficult for myself every now and again; but all the while knowing Jesus will be glad to see me… soaking wet or not.
“Then the disciple whom Jesus loves said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him and jumped into the water. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards.” John 21:7-8
