THE ROCK | Week 2
Day 3
“Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.” - Matthew 14:25
The disciples had been rowing for hours.
Matthew tells us it was “shortly before dawn.” That means they had been in the storm most of the night. Exhausted. Soaked. Straining. Making little progress.
The Sea of Galilee is known for sudden squalls. Cold air from Mount Hermon crashes down into the warm basin of the lake, and violent winds churn the surface quickly. Even experienced fishermen respected these waters.
And yet this night was different.
Because Jesus wasn’t in the boat.
At least, that’s what it felt like.
He had sent them ahead. He had gone up the mountain to pray. And while they strained at the oars, He seemed absent.
But Scripture is careful with its wording.
It does not say Jesus forgot them.
It does not say Jesus ignored them.
It does not say Jesus miscalculated.
It says He came to them.
“Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.”
He did not calm the storm first.
He walked on it.
That detail matters.
Job 9:8 says of God, “He alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea.”
The disciples would have known that verse. Only God walks on water. Only God treads on the chaos of the deep.
In Jewish thought, the sea symbolized chaos, danger, and uncontrollable forces. To walk upon it was to demonstrate total authority over it.
Jesus is not fighting the storm.
He is not negotiating with the wind.
He is not swimming through resistance.
He is walking calmly on top of what is overwhelming them.
What threatens to drown them is pavement under His feet.
Let that settle into your heart.
The thing that feels like it’s going to undo you, the uncertainty, the diagnosis, the financial pressure, the relational strain, does not destabilize Him.
He stands above it.
We often pray, “Lord, remove the storm.”
Sometimes He does.
But sometimes He reveals something greater: He is Lord over it.
When the disciples saw Him walking toward them, they were terrified. Matthew says they cried out, “It’s a ghost!”
Fear distorts perception.
They had prayed for rescue.
And when rescue arrived, they misunderstood it.
Storms can cloud spiritual clarity.
They had seen Him heal the sick.
Cast out demons.
Raise the dead.
Multiply bread.
But in the dark, under stress, their theology shrank.
That happens to us too.
In calm seasons, we say, “God is faithful.”
In storm seasons, we whisper, “Where is He?”
The darkness makes everything louder.
But here is one of the most comforting truths in this entire passage: even when they couldn’t see Jesus clearly, He could see them perfectly.
Mark’s Gospel adds a subtle detail, He saw them straining at the oars.
He wasn’t guessing.
He wasn’t distant.
He was watching.
You may not see Him in your situation.
But He sees you.
You may not feel His nearness.
But He is aware of every strained pull of the oar.
Every anxious thought.
Every tired prayer.
Every silent tear.
He sees.
And then He speaks.
“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” (Matthew 14:27)
In the Greek, the phrase “It is I” echoes something deeper, Ego eimi, “I AM.”
The name God revealed to Moses at the burning bush.
Jesus is not merely identifying Himself.
He is revealing Himself.
“I AM is here.”
The same God who parted the Red Sea.
The same God who sustained Israel in the wilderness.
The same God who spoke galaxies into existence.
Now walking toward frightened men in a boat.
And notice how quickly He responds.
Immediately.
They cry out in fear, immediately He answers.
He does not shame them for being afraid.
He does not mock their panic.
He reassures.
“Take courage.”
There is nothing sinful about the initial surge of fear. Fear is human. What matters is where fear drives you.
Does it push you into isolation?
Or does it drive you to call out to Him?
Storms reveal where we run.
Jesus does not say, “Stop feeling afraid.”
He says, “Don’t stay afraid. I am here.”
Courage is not the absence of fear.
It is the presence of Christ in the midst of it.
And here is something even deeper.
Why didn’t Jesus calm the storm before approaching them?
Because He wanted them to see something greater than relief.
He wanted them to see His identity.
If He had simply spoken from the shore and made the wind stop, they would have experienced peace without revelation.
Instead, He let them see Him walking on the chaos.
Sometimes Jesus delays the calm so you can see who He really is.
If all He ever does is fix your circumstances, you may love His benefits but never worship His person.
After this moment, something shifts.
At the end of the story, when He gets into the boat and the wind dies down, the disciples worship Him and say, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
They had admired Him before.
Now they worship Him.
Storms have a way of moving Jesus from impressive to sovereign.
Before the storm, they loved His miracles.
After the storm, they understood His divinity.
There is a difference between wanting Jesus to improve your life and recognizing Him as Lord over all creation.
And here’s the question for us: do we want Him to remove the storm more than we want to know Him in it?
Because sometimes the deeper miracle isn’t the calming of the wind.
It’s the unveiling of who He is.
The disciples were exhausted, afraid, and confused.
But dawn was breaking.
That detail is not accidental.
Night does not last forever.
The same God who walks on waves walks toward you in your darkest hours.
He does not lose sight of you.
He does not misplace you.
He does not forget the boat He sent out.
And what drowns others does not drown Him.
The wind that shakes you does not shake Him.
The chaos that overwhelms you is steady ground under His feet.
He is not trying to be your temporary solution.
He is revealing Himself as sovereign Lord.
And when you truly see Him that way, something changes inside you.
You stop straining so desperately.
You stop assuming you’re alone.
You start listening for His voice over the wind.
“Take courage.”
“I AM is here.”
The storm may still be raging.
But the Lord of the storm is walking toward you.
