Tell me to come to you

Peter’s reaction to Jesus’ appeal for courage and peace in Matthew 14 seems in contrast with many of the prayers heard in today’s churches. Peter and others were trapped in an un-navigable boat pushed far from shore by a surprise storm. The impact of the wind and waves was accentuated by the pre-dawn darkness.

Peter’s fear of drowning was not alleviated by the surprise appearance of Jesus. The early church’s account of the event notes that Jesus’ walking-on-the-water approach signaled Peter and the other disciples that a ghost was nearing. They cried out in fear.

Jesus announced himself and assured the men they should not be frightened. “Be brave,” he told them. “It is I.”

Peter was so moved by it all that he shouted above the noises of nature a most unnatural request. “Lord, is it you? If so, tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Tell me to come to you.”

That is an uncommon prayer, seldom heard then or now. Most prayers of the church center on a longing that Christ will come to us. “Come and bless us,” we plead. “Come and heal us; come and meet our needs.”

Petitioning Christ to come to us takes little faith. In fact, such a prayer might be triggered more by fear than trust. It even can be a self-centered prayer resulting from a hope that God will bless our mere human initiatives.

We continue to miss the significance of Peter’s prayer even though we have an advantage he did not have. We know where Christ is found.

He is in the gathered people of God, and he is in the sacraments.

He is in the “least” of folks—the abused and the forgotten. He is in prison and under cities’ highway overpasses. He appears in “ghostly” fashion in food lines, nursing homes and hospitals.

He waits for his people in dark and dangerous places, but we persist with our prayers of invoking his presence. Should we not pray that we will come to him?