The Rocky Waves

Here's a story I published a little while ago on Real Teen Faith. I wish I could've worked on it a bit more, but here it is anyway.

Enjoy! (I hope :))


Peter lifted his eyes from his oar to see how the boat faired in the lashing wind. The disciples heaved at their oars as the sails overhead creaked and threatened to tear.

Peter couldn’t see John as water washed over him.

“John!” Peter abandoned his oar and leapt across the vessel.

The ship lurched and threw Peter to the deck. His head cracked against the bottom of the boat. His vision blurred, and the wind and groans of the men sounded far away.

“Peter!” John shouted over the gale, “Get control of your oar, for Jehovah’s sake! I thought you said you were a fisherman.”



Peter clenched his jaw and rolled to his feet as the ship swayed. John, water dripping from his beard and veins bulging on his arms, gestured with his head. “Grab that oar before it kills someone!”

Peter turned. His oar, still dipped in the waves, swung towards the back of Thomas’ head, the one who sat in front of Peter. A streak of lightning blinded him, and he staggered back.

John lunged across the boat and placed himself between Thomas and Peter’s oar. He yanked the oar out of the water.

“You fool!” said John as he threw Peter’s oar on the deck. “You said could get us to the other side of the lake.”

John’s eyes flickered at Peter as lightning shot across the heavens. No wonder they call “Son of Thunder.”

“I said going at night was dangerous, and men who ply these waters say it’s haunted.” Peter said. “Do you think it was a mistake to obey the Master?”

“What I think doesn’t matter!”

Thomas, hand trembling, pointed at a figure close to the boat. “A ghost!” Flashes of lightning illuminated a shape that looked like a man.

“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

That voice is familiar! “Lord,” Peter said, “if it’s you tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Come.”

Peter swallowed as he studied the waves, and lightning lit the waters. Jesus stood on the lake, water lapping at his ankles.

“It’s Jesus!” John said as Peter gulped and jumped overboard.

Peter cursed himself for a fool as water splashed on his toes, and then he stood as though on solid ground. He stepped forward.

There’s nothing I can do but get to Jesus.




“Look out!”

John’s shout startled Peter. A wind slapped him in the face and he fell to his knees. Something gave way beneath him, and he imagined invisible arms dragging him beneath the swaying water. “Lord, save me!”

A hand gripped Peter’s shoulder and wrenched him up. He spluttered and shivered as the wind hissed around his ears. No doubt existed in his mind as to who saved him. He lifted his eyes as Jesus spoke.

“You of little faith, why did you fear?”

Peter didn’t know what to say. The waves rose higher, the wind howled, but the Messiah’s eyes and firm grip on his shoulders didn’t waver.

Why’d I doubt?