SO MUCH SEA. I thought I knew water.
I grew up in Galilee after all, and was
fishing with my Dad before I could
walk. But I could never have imagined a
sea that would stretch so far. For days now
we have seen no land. It’s scary; of course
it is. But this is a journey I have to make.
‘Go’, he said, ‘and make disciples of
all nations.’
I just didn’t realise there were nations quite
so far away!
This journey though is a demonstration of
trust. I can trust that he is always with me.
I don’t need to see his face, or examine his
wounds. Not now. But once I did, I’m
ashamed of that.
I look back on those three wonderful years.
Walking, listening, learning. Discovering so
much about myself – and about God. I
didn’t miss the fishing at all. I didn’t mind
that my brother was running the business,
or that I sometimes had to sleep in a ditch.
Then it all stopped.
We watched helpless as they arrested him,
beat him almost senseless, and finally
dragged him off to a painful and degrading
death. The world – and my heart – went
dark. I lay down in a corner with my face to
the wall. I wanted to die myself. There was
nothing left. Nothing to hope for, nothing
to live for.
After a few days, I went home. Back to the
boats, back fishing. Out there, I almost
prayed for a storm to come and make an
end of me. My family didn’t know what to
say, and I felt in the way. So I limped back
to the city to join the others.
They said they’d seen him. Alive.
What? Why would he show himself to
them but not to me? It wasn’t so much
that I didn’t believe them, more that I
didn’t want to believe them. Why would he
come when I wasn’t there? Did it mean