Making lists and walking on water

I hate making lists almost as much as I hate math. Seriously. I will do anything to keep from having to enumerate life. My brain thinks freedom is found in being untethered, in lyric and cadence but never with bullet points or numbers. It also thinks that I can remember, know, and keep up with much more than I actually can. Turns out, this old brain is rather forgetful.

And so, I forgot to buy anything for dinner the other night. I don’t know how it happened because I’ve been cooking dinner for all of these boys for nearly half of my life. Even with all of the uncertainty in the world right now, the one thing I know for sure is that everyone is going to be hungry at the end of the day. My boys are generally concerned about what’s on the dinner menu as soon as they are seated at the breakfast table.

But I forgot. I went to the store in my usual harried fashion; a vague idea of what we needed rushing through my brain along with the passage from a book I read earlier and a memory of a phone call I never got to make at work. I made the call, continued to ponder the words in that book, and remembered bananas … but ingredients for Thursday night dinner somehow escaped me.

A list perhaps would solve this problem, my sweet husband suggests as he saves the day by grabbing us some take out. He knows me well enough to see the edges of the meltdown I am about to have..

I hate being unorganized. I hate when things don’t work. But if I am being honest? I don’t actually want to do the work to avoid this happening. I don’t want to have to make a list and check it twice. I don’t want to have to do the math to make sure I am staying on budget and buying all of the right things. I just want it to happen.

And as I hurriedly pour milk and piece together a haphazard salad, I am shocked into the realization that my approach to grocery shopping and my approach to the more serious things in life may have more in common than I would like.

Ever been there? In the middle of trying to make it through a hard season in your life only to realize you are actually going to have to “do the things” in order to move forward?

It may seem obvious, but often I live as though I can think my way through difficult circumstances; simply pay more attention, intend to do better, and then, BOOM all will be well. No hard work required.

I want kids who behave without having to enforce discipline, writing done without the messy rough drafts, lessons learned without heartache; relationships healed without hard conversations. I avoid the difficult parts of life in an attempt to manufacture some peace. But Iike a trip to the store without a list, it always comes out missing something.

Life is full of hard things, and it can take more out of us than we think we have in us. And what does the Lord require of us when we walk through these seasons?

“If You Want to Walk on Water, You have to Get Out of the Boat”  is the title of an old book by John Ortberg. Based on the story from Scripture about Peter attempting to walk on water with Jesus,  it speaks into the way we are called to face a life challenge or a change.

Be it simple list-making or complicated life decisions, it is always Peter who comes to mind when I know that action is going to be required in order to move forward. Peter, teetering on the edge of a wave-battered boat, his eyes fixed on Jesus out there in the sea.  As he called into the wind, “Lord if it is you, tell me to come to you on the water,” I imagine Peter knew what he was going to have to do next (Matthew 14:28).

And like Peter, we, too can stand on the edge of our hard places and holler into the wind of our decisions knowing what it is going to take. Get out of the boat. Make the list. Have the hard conversation. Enforce the discipline. Forgive the wrong done. Love, anyway. We can know these things all day long.

But it is that leap from knowing to doing that is the hardest to make.

You see, I love the story of Peter walking on the water with Jesus. I love it for many reasons. But when I try to live it out in the middle of a real life challenge? I find that I want to change the narrative.

I don’t actually want Peter to have to leap out of the boat and sink into the waves. I want it to go like this instead: Jesus walks across the water right up to the boat where Peter is and he gets in with him. The. End.

Peter is with Jesus and no one has to do anything crazy like jump into a churning ocean or sink into some waves. All is well and they go sailing off into happily ever after. Much better story, right?

I want the miracle without the abandon. I don’t want to have to trust in what I cannot see.

But here’s the question.

If Peter hadn’t gotten out of that boat, what would he have missed?

You see, if Peter had stayed in, Jesus would have still loved him; would have still used him in mighty ways. Peter didn’t earn the love of Jesus by getting out of the boat.

But. Peter would have missed something that changed him forever. He would have missed the chance to go for a walk on the water with his Savior.

Staying in the boat means we miss the walking part. Avoiding the hard parts of life means we miss the chance to grab the arm of our Savior and know the joy of walking with him even through the hard and dangerous storms life brings our way.

And it seems like it shouldn’t matter; the mundane grocery lists, the kids and decisions, the complicated relationships; these are just the boring everyday parts of life. It feels stifling and sends me searching for holy and sacred places where Jesus seems more likely to be.

But then. I sit and do the thing. The list. The work. The conversation. The slow decision making. And as I go, I feel the Spirit with me.

Freedom, he whispers into the whir of everyday life, isn’t being able to avoid the hard things. Freedom is knowing you never have to do them alone. Come on, get out of the boat and let’s go for a walk.